Arthur Upfield - An Author Bites the Dust

Simes said he didn’t think so. The doctor said he had not touched the bottles or the glass.

Bony said, “Both these bottles were opened quite recently. There is still distinct moisture in the empty bottle. On what do you base your opinion that he died of alcoholic poisoning?”

“On my knowledge of the man’s habits over a long period,” Fleetwood replied.“And also upon the outward evidence of death on the features. There is a ghastly, vacant expression on the face, which is suffused and bloated. The lips are livid, and the pupils of the eyes are much dilated. That Walsh died in convulsion is also evident. All are the outward signs of death by alcoholic poisoning.”

“He and I were drinking at half past five yesterday afternoon,” Bony said. “He appeared to be much more sober than I felt when we parted.”

“That’s not significant. However, I am not sure of my diagnosis. A post mortem would prove or disprove it.”

“Would you mind conducting the examination?”

“No. But the situation is involved because the man has no known relations from whom permission could be obtained.”

“A Justice of the Peace, acting as Coroner, could give the authority,” Simes advised.

“In that case-”

“Thank you, doctor, we’ll have the examination done.”

“I shall be interested in view of what Professor Ericson said about the powder you handed to me.”

“Ah! You have his report! Let us go outside to hear it. Bony led the exodus, and they walked across Walsh’s tidy back yard to sit in the shade cast by several gum-trees. “You may speak freely before Simes, doctor. He is collaborating with me.”

“Wish you’d tell me where you obtained that powder.” Fleetwoodsaid, his grey eyes hard. “I’ll read Professor Ericson’s letter. Here goes: ‘Dear Fleetwood. I am glad to hear from you and to know that all is well with you and yours. Thank you for the little task concerning the packet you sent along. It was quickly apparent that it is neither mineral nor vegetable, and that, as you thought, it is animal matter. What animal, however, it was difficult to prove. Even now friendMathers, who assisted me, and I am not in complete agreement.

“ ‘Weare agreed that the dust is the residuum of a long-dead animal body. We are agreed also that theptomaines have survived the decomposition of the body and are still unimpaired in the residuum. In Mathers’s opinion, the dust is of the body of one of the canine species. In mine, it is that of the body of any primate excepting man, but in my mindexists the thought that it may be the residuum of a human body.’ ”

Dr Fleetwood looked up from the letter and regarded Bony with the frown even deeper between his eyes.

“Pardon my ignorance,” Bony said. “What areptomaines?”

“Basic organic chemical compound which is derived from the decomposing animal or vegetable protein. It bears a resemblance to an alkaloid.”

“And is, therefore, poisonous?”

“I said it bears a resemblance, not that it is an alkaloid.”

“This particular protein could possibly be poisonous?”

“Oh yes, not only possibly but probably. When injected in the form of an alcoholic extract the rabbit died, remember.”

“But the rabbit that ate the powder on a leaf did not die.”

“That is so.”

“H’m!” Bony gazed downward at his dusty shoes. Then, “So far so good. In layman’s phraseology, if the stuff is eaten it is not poisonous, if it is injected it is. Might not the powder be poisonous if eaten by a body saturated with alcohol?”

“It might, inspector. I will not commit myself. It would have to be proved by experiment. Is it in your mind that some of that powder was taken by old Walsh-probably in his whisky?”

“It is, doctor. It is also in my mind that the putting of any powder similar to that examination by Professor Ericson in Walsh’s food or drink is an extremely remote possibility. But because of that possibility, I should like you to conduct a post mortem. You might then be able to determine if Walsh drank two bottles of whisky. If, say, you determined that he drank, or could have drunk, no more than one bottle of whisky, then I should be disinclined to believe that he died from alcoholic poisoning, because a large number of men in any given community can drink a bottle of whisky in an hour or two without noticeably ill effects.”

“I’ll do the P.M.,” Fleetwood said. “And if I find that death was not due to alcoholic poisoning, that it was caused by another poison, an alkaloid, for instance?”

“It will strengthen a theory in my mind that this death is connected with the death of Mervyn Blake. It will compel an inquest, and in that both Superintendent Bolt and InspectorSnooks will take exceptional interest-long before I am ready to permit their interest to be roused. Is Professor Ericson in a position to assist you with the post mortem?”

“Yes, and I feel sure he would be very willing,” replied the doctor. “That’s an idea. Ericson could go very much farther than I could to establish the poison, if there is poison.”

Bony rose to his feet and loosened his shoulders.

“Assuming that the professor assented, when would you make the examination?”

“Tonight, if the professor is agreeable. If not tonight, then first thing tomorrow. I could do the preliminaries this evening.”

“Could you delay your findings, assuming you found poison?”

“For two days, perhaps, before reporting to the Coroner. We could find excuses.”

“Good. I am placed, doctor, in the position of fighting for time.” Bony reached forward and touched Fleetwood upon the label of his coat to emphasize his words. “Cicero said, ‘Certain signs precede certain events’! I am now threatened by certain events preceding me, and that is a situation I find irksome.”

Points of Interest

HAVING assured Bony of future co-operation, Dr Fleetwood departed, and before his shadow had passed over the old front gate, Bony and Constable Simes were inside Sid Walsh’s bedroom.

“We must preserve these bottles,” Bony said. “Wrap them in newspaper. Perhaps there’s an old case handy.”

Without commenting, Simes went to work salving the two whisky bottles.

“When found, did Walsh have his false teeth in his mouth?” Bony asked.

“I didn’t notice,” replied Simes.

“All right. Don’t touch that glass yet. Deal with the bottles by pushing your little finger into the top of them.”

Bony caught his breath, hating what he had to do. He pulled the blanket down from the face of the dead man, forcing himself to look upon it and mentally shrinking from the awful picture it presented. Simes heard him say, “You didn’t lead a good life, Walsh, did you? Your liking, or weakness, for what you termed guts-shudderer, was your ruin. But you loved flowers, and that must be credited to you. You died with your teeth in your mouth and with your boots on your feet, and you died before you could go to bed. Just too bad. Well, we’ll find out all about it.”

Covering the face, Bony made a superficial examination of the bedroom, and then looked over the living-room. He went outside and found a lean-to wash-house, and there he poked about for several minutes.

“Looking for anything in particular?” asked Simes.

“Yes, a cut-glass tumbler in which Walsh put his false teeth.”

“Haven’t seen such a tumbler. Only glass in the place is that one on the table in the bedroom. That’s plain and cheap.”

“Be extra careful of that glass, Simes. No, I don’t think Walsh would tell a lie about the cut-glass tumbler he found buried just inside theBlakes ’ gate. There is an old quarry where he used to dump his empties. How far is it from here?”