Arthur Upfield - Batchelors of Broken Hill

At two, to the minute, Bony entered the shop and was met by Mrs Robinov.

“Everyone’s in the fitting-room, Inspector.”

He smiled his approval of such punctuality, and she conducted him to the fitting-room, where waited Mrs Wallace and Mrs Lucas, Mary Isaacs, Miss Way, Abbot with his assistant, and David Mills.

Bony thanked them for being present, and they were made to feel ‘awfully important’. He had the plainclothes man tack the pictures to a wall and then arranged the gathering as though children seated before a blackboard. Mills was placed at the cutting table and asked to prepare his materials.

“It is important that you are silent concerning this little session,” Bony began, “because I want to take you into my confidence and be able to discuss with you freely certain grave difficulties confronting me in unearthing this vile poisoner.

“Now look at these pictures so ably painted by Mr Mills. These three to the left represent the woman who was present shortly before Mr Goldspink died, and these two on the right represent the woman present in the hotel lounge to within a few minutes of the death of Mr Gromberg.

“We know that neither Mrs Robinov, Miss Isaacs, nor Miss Way can see in the picture of the lounge woman the woman they saw in the shop, and although two women could have carried the same handbag, the circumstances are such as to make us certain that one woman committed both crimes.

“This woman is clever. She isn’t a novice. She doesn’t make mistakes, and she did not make the great mistake of adopting a disguise after committing a crime, but before she committed it.

“At once divest your minds of the picture of a woman wearing a false wig and dark glasses and the uniform of a nurse or something of the kind. When she came here to the shop she seemed to be elderly, she had a stoop, and she used her eyes as though by habit peering over glasses. That is the impression she gave Miss Isaacs and, in lesser degree, Miss Way. When she went to the hotel lounge she appeared very much younger, did not peer as though over glasses, didn’t have a stoop, and wore clothes suitable for a woman of, say, thirty. With reason, therefore, we may assess her real age at from forty to forty-five.

“There is the remote possibility that the person seen by you ladies is a man disguised as a woman. We must take into account that there have been and are extremely clever female impersonators both on the stage and off, and before we proceed let us settle that point. You, Mrs Wallace, do you think that the person who sat next you on Saturday afternoon could have been a man disguised as a woman?”

Mrs Wallace was most indignant. “Not a hope. I knowall the differences between a man and a woman.”

“What makes you so certain?” questioned the unabashed Bony.

“Because I’d soon smell the difference,” claimed Mrs Wallace, and Bony hastily changed the subject.

“We then reject the possibility that the person was a man disguised as a woman. Did the woman betray any evidence to you, Mrs Wallace, that she was short-sighted?”

“I’m sure there wasn’t anything wrong with her eyesight. I remember telling you that she fumbled with her purse, but that wasn’t short sightedness. Itmusta been because she was all steamed up to skittle old Gromberg, though I still say I never saw her do anything to his beer.”

“Then let us discuss the woman’s face. Her make-up, you say, was heavily applied. How near did Mr Mills paint the faces to what you remember of the woman’s make-up?”

“Pretty close, but not quite, Inspector.” Mrs Wallace became triumphant. “I remember the lipstick she had on.”

“She had on the wrong lipstick,” interposed Mrs Lucas.

“She did that,” Mrs Wallace agreed. “It didn’t give her anything.”

“Looked to me as if she was an amateur at putting her face on,” said Mrs Lucas, and again Mrs Wallace agreed.

“An amateur-or it could have been done purposely to achieve an amateurish effect,” Bony pointed out. “You said, Mrs Wallace, didn’t you, that the woman looked like an old maid who had ventured into-”

“Hell or a harem,” added Mrs Wallace. “If she wasn’t an old maid she acted pretty well, is what I say and what I think. I can tell ’emin spite of all their titivating.”

“How did she appear to you, Mrs Lucas?”

“I didn’t take that much notice, Inspector, but I’ve a sort of impression that Mrs Wallace is right.”

“Thank you. Well, now, because you two ladies remember that woman so clearly, and Miss Isaacs and Miss Way do not clearly remember the woman who visited the shop, we will discard these three pictures of her as and when she was served by Miss Isaacs.” He took the three paintings from the wall. “We have now only the two pictures of the woman seen in the lounge. Mrs Wallace, which of these two pictures is nearer your memory of the woman?”

“That one on the right, although the dress on her isn’t as good as in the other picture.”

“We will leave the dress for the moment. Mrs Lucas, which is your choice of pictures?”

“That one Mrs Wallace picked.”

“Good. We will now discard the left one,” and Bony removed it. “Now, Mr Mills, will you try to draw this woman’s head without make-up, and to your notion of what she would be like, say, at forty-five.”

David Mills took fifteen minutes. Bony produced cigarettes, and Abbot’s assistant rounded off his notes. Mrs Wallace began to discuss the suspect’s clothes and was asked to refrain. She was the first to be shown the new face.

“Pretty good,” was her verdict, “but the chin isn’t square enough, and the eyes ought to be a bit slanted down at the outside corners.”

“I’ll make the alterations easily enough,” volunteered Mills.

He took the draft sketch, and Mrs Wallace went to stand by him, saying:

“When you’ve done that, I’ll tell you just where to put in the wrinkles. Her makeup didn’t hide them from me.” Using an eraser, Mills swiftly went to work. “That’s good for the mouth. Yes, and good for the eyes too. Come and have a look, dearie.”

Mrs Lucas was drawn into conference, and both agreed that the result was ‘just it’.

“You’re a beaut, Mr Mills,” exclaimed the ex-barmaid. “You’ve got thelivin ’ image, hasn’t he, Mrs Lucas?”

Mrs Lucas agreed again with Mrs Wallace, and Bony handed the black and white drawing to Mrs Robinov, who said she didn’t know a woman like her. Mary Isaacs hesitated long enough for Bony to say:

“Don’t hurry.”

Finally Mary admitted defeat, and the cashier shook her head.

“We’ve done very well so far,” Bony said. “Now let us examine the pictured dress. How near are we at this stage, Mrs Wallace and Mrs Lucas?”

They both said that the dress was almost as they remembered it. It was light blue scattered with white blossoms, elbow-length sleeves and a full skirt.

“Did you notice the material?” asked Mrs Robinov.

“ ’Course I did,” countered Mrs Wallace. “I said she took it out of lavender. It was extra-heavy silk, the sort of stuff you haven’t been able to buy for about fifteen years.”

Mary exclaimed:

“Oh, Mrs Robinov! You remember-”

“I’ll fetch it-my wedding dress. I had it made in Harbin in 1926. It might be the same quality.”

Abbot looked alarmed. Bony remained placidly patient. Mrs Robinov hurried away, and the women questioned Mary Isaacs, their excitement making even Bony wonder. The dress was brought, displayed on the cutting table. It was off white, but the material had captured the heady sheen of the water lily.

“That’s it-let me touch it,” Mrs Wallace cried. “Oh, it’s gorgeous! Oh, how lovely, Mrs Robinov.”