Arthur Upfield - Venom House

“Oh, that! He amuses himself for hours dropping things from his window and drawing them up again.” Her gaze was centred steadily at his eyes, and she went on: “He didn’t talk about me, or Mary? You see, he’s very troublesome at times. Nothing we do for him pleases him, when he has a bad turn.”

“You haven’t told him about Mrs Answerth?”

“No, Inspector. We thought it best not to, not for a little while.”

“How long has he been like that?”

“Oh, for years. We first noticed he was peculiar when he was very young, and then as he grew older he suffered from periods of depression which always ended with an outburst of frightful temper. We have had to be very firm with him.”

“He was examined by a doctor?”

“Of course! Old Doctor Mundy used to see him, and finally said he would never really grow up.”

“I’m sorry. Is Doctor Mundy still living in Edison?”

Janet shook her head, saying that Dr Mundy had died shortly after her father’s death.

“Who attends your brother?”

“We all do… that is, Mary and I, and his poor mother when she was well.” There was a distinct pause, when Janet added: “Lately, though, we had to dissuade her from being with him too much. I’m afraid Mother wasn’t good for him. She had become very difficult, you know.”

“His door is invariably bolted?”

“Yes, ever since somebody forgot to turn the key,” Janet replied. “It’s so easy to do that, isn’t it? We had the bolt fixed because that requires mental effort, you understand. Not just turning a key… That time the key wasn’t turned, Morris escaped from the house late one night, and next morning we found the boat had vanished. He was eventually found in one of the paddocks, and fortunately he was quiet and returned to his room without any fuss.”

“Is there a particular reason… forgive the question… a reason for him being dressed like a schoolboy?”

“Of course there is, Inspector. Mentally, Morris has never grown up. You’ve seen that for yourself. We decided that the best way to manage him was to treat him as a child all the time, and so when his second Eton suit wore out, we had another made for him, and so on.” Her eyes brightened with golden tears. “To see him in schoolboy’s uniform is easier for us, too. We’d had such great hopes for little Morris, and it has all been disappointments.”

“He seems contented with his lot, and this is something achieved for one in his tragic state,” Bony said, sympathetically. “Tell me, how many are there on your domestic staff?”

“Only the cook. Mrs Leeper. We manage quite well with just Mrs Leeper, and a man who comes over now and then to cut the wood and do the outside work we cannot do.”

“Then after I’ve had a few words with your cook Constable Mawson and I will keep Blaze waiting no longer.”

“Very well, Inspector. Mrs Leeper will be in the kitchen, I expect. Please come this way.”

“Perhaps you would permit me to interview her here.”

“Yes, if you wish. I’ll send her along.”

“I thank you.” Bony waited till Janet Answerth left them before saying to Mawson: “I will talk to the cook outside.”

Passing to the porch, he lingered to appreciate the sun-lit expanse of Answerth’s Folly. The light wind touched the surface with its brush of gold, and the great grey trunks of the trees, which sprang to life when the world was young, were pillars supporting the gentian sky. They stood but here and there upon the water which had killed but could not bring them down, and aboutthem swam the ducks and the pelicans and the swans. The distant land lured the eye to regard with fleeting interest the row of station buildings, to pass on up the long grassy slope to the green forest.

A rustle of starched garments caused him to turn and see a stout and nimble woman regarding him with wide dark eyes. Her hands were slim, and her feet appeared to be too small for her bodily weight. She was wearing a nurse’s white linen cap, and it was the voluminous white apron which had rustled when she moved. She epitomized saintly cleanliness.

“Ah! Mrs Leeper?”

“I am Mrs Leeper,” she replied, her voice clear and precise. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. Kindly accompany me for a few minutes.” Bony stood aside to permit her to go ahead down the porch step, and as they walked on the close-cropped grass, he put his opening question. “Just what is your position in this household, Mrs Leeper?”

“I am keeper-in-general of the rat house,” was the answer, and he stopped to look at her, his brows lifted. Her button of a nose crinkled with humour, but grim mockery lurked deep in her eyes. “I hope you won’t make my position here more difficult than it is by telling tales.”

“You have my word, MrsLeeper, that I never gossip. Tell me, who is the real head of this household?”

“I am.”

“Indeed!”

“They don’t know it, Inspector.”

“The Misses Answerthare not particularly courteous to each other.”

“They have forgotten how to be.”

“Meaning that they are normal when insulting each other?”

“They’re never normal,” Mrs Leeper replied with emphasis. “And there’s nothing abnormal about that because only one per cent of humanity is normal. These people have their idiosyncrasies, if that’s the word, which are a little out of the ordinary. They have lots of money, but they walk round the house at night without a light. Never collide with anything in the dark. They stick to oil lamps when they could easily have their own electric generating plant. And sometimes they are out of speaks for weeks.”

“H’m! How long have you been here?”

“Ten years almost.”

“D’you like being here?”

“Certainly not. I dislike the place, and the people. I don’t like darkness and silence, and rooms and passages which are always cold. I like sunshine and fresh air, and plenty of carbolic. I like laughter and joy, not studied politeness with an undercurrent of hatred which seems to have seeped into the very stones of the place. As I just told you, I’m here for a purpose. I’m here to save money to buy a hospital of my own. I’ve been matron of a large mental hospital, but I could never save money.”

“Then you must be capable of managing these… Answerths?”

“Yes, I can manage them easily enough, but I never let them know it. It’s an art, Inspector, managing the mentally sick.”

“It must be,” agreed Bony. “They are then, mentally ill?”

“Yes, but not quite nuts. Don’t mistake my words. The two women are fully capable. Miss Mary runs the station and the men. Miss Janet thinks she runs the house and everyone in it. She paints beautifully, and plays the piano. Keep them apart, and they’re tractable.”

“And how long do you expect to stay here to have enough to buy a hospital of your own?”

“Oh! Oh, perhaps two more years. These people pay very well. They have to, you know. There’s no entertainment. I don’t leave this place except once a year for three weeks’ holiday in Brisbane.”

“Almost a prisoner, eh?”

“Almost… due to myself, of course. I needn’t stay. I want money, and the less one spends the more one saves.”

“There is horse sense in that, Mrs Leeper. When did you last see Mrs Answerth alive?”

“See her! It was just after nine that night she was drowned. She came to the kitchen as usual for her cocoa and biscuit. The last time I heard her was about eleven when Miss Mary brought her into the house and sent her up to bed. I heard Miss Mary scolding her and then I heard their room doors being closed. Mrs Answerth must have waited and gone out again when she thought everyone was asleep.”

“D’youknow why she went out?”