Arthur Upfield: Murder Must Wait

It was Bony who first left the room, preceding the doctor and Yoti to the porch, where waited Essen with the constable and Thring.

“There is a point concerning which there must be no disagreement,” he told them. “Mr Thring, to your knowledge the only persons who have been inside this house since Mrs Rockcliff was last seen alive are we five men?”

“That’s so, Inspector.”

“Thank you, Mr Thring.” Mr Thring failed to understand what prompted the smile in and about the friendly blue eyes. “Now please return home. I shall be calling on you soon. Oblige me by ignoring the cement path leading to the gate and by walking on the bordering flower-bed.”

The strip of cultivated ground between the path and the drought-stricken lawn was four feet wide, and the surface was dry and sandy. Mr Thring obliged, and Bony walked the cement path halfway to the gate, when he turned and called to Dr Nott to walk the flower-bed. Essen was asked to follow the doctor, and only Yoti was annoyed when requested to make his footprints to be studied by a man who never forgot footprints. The rubbernecks at the gate were entranced.

“Now Sergeant, you and I will re-enter the house, see what is to be seen and what is to be felt. I want no one else inside the house until we have done.”

They stood in the hall, Yoti having closed the door and released the lock snib. Bony switched on the light.

“I detest wall-to-wall carpets,” he said. “Harbours all manner of wogs… and cannot register footprints. Mrs Rockcliff was a wise woman when she selectedlinoleum, and a good housewife when she polished it, I should think, at least once a week. You might stay here while I look over the scene. Where is the body?”

Yoti indicated the bedroom and then, like those at the street gate, became an entranced spectator. He watched Bony sidle along the walls to reach the bedroom, noted how he placed his feet as close to the skirting as possible, and as closely to the door-frame when he sidled into the bedroom. The light went on, and he regretted he was unable to watch the man who had never failed to finish an assignment.

It seemed to Yoti that Bony was in the bedroom a long time, when he was surprised less by the identical manner of his return than by the pair of woman’s shoes he carried.

“We will have to retain these,” Bony told him, gazing upon the soles and heels. “I disliked the task of removing them.”

The dark tan at the corners of Bony’s mouth was oddly pale, and, having passed the morgue test in his training days and since being inured to death and violence, Sergeant Yoti felt a spasm of contempt for this man who betrayed fear of death. Bony said:

“I have to run about like an ant in search of a lead, and I’m not going to ruin my favourite suit.”

Removing the creaseless coat, he passed it gravely to Sergeant Yoti, who was distinctly disturbed when Bony removed his trousers and proceeded to match the crease of one leg with that of the other. The trousers were carefully placed over the coat resting on the sergeant’s forearm, but Yoti’s attention could not be given to anything save the sky-blue silk underpants and the sock suspenders of the same hue.

“Open the door, please. I require more light.”

Hoping that the crowd at the distant gate would be denied this spectacle, and that his staff wouldn’t faint, Yoti obeyed. Again turning, he found Bony on hands and knees, his face close to the floor as though trying to locate a small pin.

The blue-panted figure backed like a bull-ant before a thrusting twig, then forward again like the bull-ant determined to attack. It was not unlike a voodoo rite, but could have been more realistic were it not for the blue pants and the cream shirt. Quite abruptly, the figure moved with astonishing nimbleness to the front bedroom and disappeared.

Yoti heard the bedroom blinds snap up. The flies were persistent, the air heavy and dank with the odour of the dead. The little noises outside seemed too fearful to comein, and the sound of the flies within seemed hushed as though they flew with crepe-draped wings. He could feel the presence of Essen and the constable on the porch, and wondered if they smiled at sight of him waiting like a well-trained valet.

Bony’s reappearance was a relief. He came from the bedroom on all fours across the hall to the lounge. When again he appeared, he halted at the hat stand to make obeisance by bringing his forehead to the linoleum many times.

On his final reappearance from the rear of the house he was walking like a human being. Saying nothing, he donned his trousers. Perhaps he hoped Yoti would assist with the coat, but the sergeant wouldn’t play. The coat on and the shirtsleeves carefully pulled down, Bony smiled, for Yoti enigmatically, and said:

“Bring in the constable, Essen I think, who found the body. We’ll discuss the matter in the lounge.”

They found him standing with his back to the window, engaged in rolling a cigarette.

“Permit me to transmit the picture I have studied with no little interest,” he said, as though making a difficult request. “Circumstances sometimes favour the investigator, and on this occasion they have. When you, Constable Essen, entered the house by the unlocked front door, with Mr Thring following you, you first went into the lounge, having told Thring to remain in the hall. From the lounge you crossed to the bedroom opposite, pausing for a moment or two in the doorway. There you uttered an exclamation of horror, because Thring joined you there, standing behind you and seeing what you saw. You told Thring to stay in the hall, and he obeyed this time, while you went in, switched on the light, and stood looking down at the body. Then you moved to the baby’scot, and from the cot back to the door.”

“You passed along the passage, opening the door to the left, then the next door on the right, and so to the kitchen, where you tried the back door. On returning to the hall, you and Thring went out to the porch. You closed the door, ordered Thring to remain and let no one inside, and you then left to telephone to Sergeant Yoti. Do I err in any detail?”

“No, you are all correct, sir.”

“When Sergeant Yoti arrived, he followed you into the house, Thring and the constable being told to remain outside. Sergeant Yoti went at once to the bedroom, and you followed him to the door. As you had done, Sergeant Yoti stood on the threshold for a short period before entering the bedroom on tiptoe. All the time he was in the bedroom he walked on his toes, passing to the body, then to peer into the baby’s cot, then back again to the door. You followed him from the bedroom door across the hall to the front door and went out after him to the porch. Again, do I err in any one detail?”

“In no detail, sir.”

“When Doctor Nott reached the house,” went on the soft, cool voice, “you, Sergeant Yoti, brought him in. He entered the bedroom… I incline to believe he went in first, not you… and it’s the only point about which I am a little doubtful… and he crossed at once to the windows and released the blinds. Having examined the body, he drew down the blinds before joining you in the hall. Any error?”

“No,” replied Yoti.

Bony chuckled.

“Were I Dictator I would prohibit the manufacture, sale, and/or use of any type of floor covering other than linoleum. Now, before I take the next step, do I have your co-operation?”

Receiving their assurance, he pointed out that when agreeing to investigate the disappearances of the babies he demanded no interference from the State CID. This murder, however, might upset the arrangement.

Yoti said, and Essen was astonished by his candour:

“We don’t want the city fellers here, sir. We’ve had a stomach-full. Essen’s had experience with the fingerprint section in Sydney, and he’s a pretty good photographer. So we could manage without Sydney.”