Arthur Upfield - Batchelors of Broken Hill

“Well, yes, I am working with Detective Sergeant Crome,” Bony answered. “We shall, of course, find Tuttaway.”

“You are certain it was he who killed her?”

“Quite. Your sister must have known him, surely. Probably when you were living in England.”

“Yes. That’s my second reason for coming to Superintendent Pavier. Although the man’s name was familiar-for who hasn’t heard of the Great Scarsby?-I didn’t recall that my sister had had any contact with him.

“You see, Inspector, it’s all of fourteen years since we left England, and I’m not sure but I think Tuttaway was then in America. And then when he was imprisoned for abducting that girl, we were living here, and my sister evinced no great interest in the case, excepting to recall that at one time or another she had done some work for him. But I suppose that won’t be of much help.”

“On the contrary, Mrs Dalton, it may be of extreme importance. Do go on.”

“Well, then, I must tell you something of our life before we left London. Do you mind?”

Mrs Dalton produced a cigarette-case from her handbag, and, when holding a match in service, Bony murmured:

“London! I’ve always wanted to see London. Once I had the opportunity of exchange duty, but it didn’t come off. What part of London did you live in?”

“Ealing. Quite close to the Underground-Gosport Grove. Far enough from the city to be out of the traffic noises and yet within easy reach. My husband left me comfortably well off, and Muriel had no need to work, but she insisted on doing something. She then worked for several authors, typing their manuscripts and assisting them generally, and she would never discuss her work or her clients other than to mention their names.

“It wasn’t as though they came to my house. Muriel either went to their houses or brought their work home, and I never sought to know more of them than she cared to tell me. I was thinking about this last night when I remembered that my sister once did work for the Great Scarsby, and the name came to my mind only because Muriel mentioned that his work was more difficult than the other. And now-”

“We are convinced that it was Tuttaway who was seen with your sister that last evening of her life. We know for certain that Tuttaway was in Broken Hill that night and think he is still in Broken Hill. Can you recall anything more of that association of your sister with the Great Scarsby?”

“No, I’m afraid not, Inspector. You see, it’s all so very vague, and at the time so unimportant. What I am sure about is that there was no love affair between them. Why, she must have been twenty or twenty-five years his junior.”

“Can you recall when, what year, your sister did work for George Henry Tuttaway?”

“Well, it must have been before he went to America in 1934. I don’t know-it could be-no, Inspector, I’m afraid I cannot answer your question.”

“You have no reason to fear he might be, shall we say, interested in you?”

“In me! Why should he be? I am a little afraid, however, that when caught he may tell highly coloured stories about Muriel. Why he killed her, and all that. I’m sure the police wouldn’t take notice of a madman’s ravings, but the newspaper people might, and I dislike publicity. Muriel was so-so uninterested in men as men. She used to tell me she was born to be an old maid.”

Bony stopped doodling on his blotter and smiled encouragingly at Mrs Dalton.

“You need have no cause for concern,” he told her. “Tuttaway, having been certified and having escaped from custody, will not be charged with murdering your sister, because he is unfit to stand trial.”

“He will merely be returned to the prison?” Mrs Dalton asked bitterly, and rose to leave.

“That will be the result of his apprehension.”

“I hope you will prove him guilty. It won’t lessen my loneliness, but I want to know the truth.” Her lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears. “I miss my sister very much and think I won’t be able to stay in Broken Hill. We understood each other so completely, and all our interests were the same. Do you think that Scarsby is also responsible for those other murders?”

“It’s possible, Mrs Dalton, but we have as yet no proof. Just leave the worrying to me. We’ll find him. We always get our man, you know.”

“I hope so. But the police didn’t catch Jack the Ripper, did they?”

“Ah! But I wasn’t in London.”

“Of course not.” Mrs Dalton tried to smile. “I forgot you were never in London. Well, goodbye. You’ll tell Superintendent Pavier I called?”

“Oh yes. And about the money owing your sister’s estate. Goodbye, Mrs Dalton. I am so glad the Superintendent was out.”

Unprofessional Conduct

THE LODDING case now gave promise of breaking, but the poisoning cases refused to give.

The connection between Muriel Lodding and George Henry Tuttaway, established by Mrs Dalton, was a distinct advance. The murder had been prompted by a reason born in the past and was not the result of swift passion or blood lust. Therefore the odds were against another murder by the Great Scarsby.

Bony discussed Tuttaway with Crome late that afternoon.

“Had a visit from Mrs Dalton this morning,” he said, offering a slip of paper. “That’s the name and address of Muriel Lodding’s solicitors. You might pass it on to Finance Section.”

“What do you think of her?”

“Mrs Dalton? Cultured. Very much alive. The sister knew Tuttaway in England.”

“Is that so?” exclaimed Crome with great satisfaction.

Bony related what Mrs Dalton had told him, and Crome pounced on the fact that, Tuttaway’s motive having been born in the past, it was unlikely that he had stayed one unnecessary moment in Broken Hill.

“Think we could lift those road blocks now?” he suggested. “Bit of a strain on the department.”

“Wait, Crome. For the time being we’ll act on the Emperor’s advice: ‘When in doubt do nothing.’ Meanwhile, make a few notes.

“In 1934 Tuttaway took a company on tour through the United States. At that time Muriel Lodding was living with her sister at Gosport Grove, Ealing, London, and was engaged by several authors in preparing their manuscripts. Note that Lodding did this work at Mrs Dalton’s house and that she visited her clients and not they her. An additional client was Tuttaway, and, like the writers, he did not appear at the house.

“Two years after Tuttaway went off to America the sisters came to Australia, and in the following year Tuttaway also came to Australia, having disbanded his company. That was in ’37. The next year, in November, the sisters left Sydney and came to Broken Hill-we understand because a better position became available here in Lodding’s firm.

“That may be the reason behind the move to Broken Hill, or it may have been dictated by the appearance of Tuttaway on the Lodding Sydney scene. The point will have to be checked. Did Lodding ask for that transfer to Broken Hill, or was it offered her? Ask Sydney to check up with the wool firm and dig out all that can be obtained concerning the two women. Records have the addresses.”

Crome was faintly perplexed.

“Suppose it’s necessary, sir?” he asked. “Considering that it was Tuttaway who killed Lodding?”

“I think so,” Bony replied coldly. “Further, have Sydney ask London for the number of the house in Gosport Grove, Ealing, occupied by Mrs Dalton prior to 1936, and for any information re the lives and associations of the two sisters.”

“Very well, sir,” Crome said stoically.

“We could obtain most of this from Mrs Dalton, but we won’t bother her too much just now. The life of Muriel Lodding before coming to Broken Hill is most important, and it will give Sydney something to think about and remove the idea from their minds that Broken Hill is doing nothing.