Arthur Upfield - Winds of Evil

“Got tired of the office, I suppose.”

“When he came here, had he had any bush experience?”

“I think not,” replied Lee. “No, he was a raw new chum.”

Bony fell silent, idly watching a moth circling under the lamp. Lee watched him. Then:

“To use an Americanism, I don’tget Donald Dreyton. I know, of course, that he is an Englishman, originally a member of what is termed the ‘upperclass’. But as there are so many degrees within each class of English society-and I mean that word in its widest sense-I, an ignorant Australian, am at a loss definitely to place him. Is he a soldier, a sailor, a lawyer, a churchman, a diplomat? Or rather was he any one of these? I find it extremely difficult to believe that he left theoffice, and the comforts of life at the Wirragatta homestead, for the opposite conditions of life on a boundary-fence just because he became tired of office work. There is, I think, something more behind that change from one pole to the other than a mere desire for change. I think so still more now that Dreyton has been offered the office work after a long period on the fence, and has declined to take it on permanently.”

“May be something in what you say, sir…Bony. Still, it doesn’t seem to have any bearing on these strangling cases.”

Swiftlycame the question:

“How do you know?” When Lee made no answer, Bony went on, “On the list you have drawn up for me is the name of the man who killed two people and the name of him who nearly killed Mabel Storrie. The actions and the reactions of all those people on our list which are not plain to us must be investigated. Without patience a detective is a block of wood.

“As I pointed out just now, like Simone, I have to begin an investigation without one leading clue. The murderer didn’t leave behind him his hat, or his false teeth, or his pipe, or a weapon. He left no finger-prints other than those, possibly, on the victim’s clothes. He left no tracks, for the wind wiped them away. He did wear rubber-soled shoes and, for a reason I have not yet established he climbed trees along Nogga Creek the night Mabel Storrie was attacked.”

“How do you know-about the-?”

“Please do not interrupt. Listen, note, and don’t question me. We will work together, and you will receive a lot of the credit, and score off the redoubtable Simone. Now, from nothing, or next to nothing, let us at least begin to build up the personality of this criminal. That he knows the locality, especially of Nogga Creek and Wirragatta River, is proved. He operates on dark, starless nights. When the girl Storrie is sufficiently recovered to talk to us of her horrific experience, she will tell us that she did not see her attacker because he attacked her from behind as, in the opinion of Dr. Mulray, he attacked both Marsh and Tindall. For the committal of all these crimes he chose a night following a day of wind and high-blown sand, and a sunset indicating that the next day would be as bad, if not worse. He reveals cunning there-marked cunning-and there is, by the way, no fundamental difference of meaning between ‘cunning’ and ‘clever’.

“Now!-Where the road begins to dip down the man-made incline to the creek-bed, the bordering trees meet over it. There is evidence that recently someone climbed up the tree on the Catfish Hole side of the road, and then worked his way along boughs until he gained position over the centre of the road. He dropped from the bough as Mabel Storrie passed under him. He dropped from a bough as Alice Tindall passed under him at Junction Waterhole. To do that he must be agile and strong and sure, and because he was so sure of foot and of hand, I believe it was by no means the first time he reached that position over the Broken Hill road.”

“Hang-dog Jack would fit,” interjected the sorely-tempted Lee.

“Physically, yes; mentally, perhaps not. Do not forget that the man Marsh was not murdered under a tree, but in the open near the two Common gates. That is a piece of the puzzle which is difficult to place, but I will surely place it. Let us now consider the incidence of time. Each of these three crimes was committed within a period of three hours-from eleven to two o’clock. There may be-I feel sure thereis -significance in this.

“In this part of Australia we have each year many windstorms of one day’s duration, a lesser number of two days’ duration, and a lesser number still of three days’ duration. Here is a point of importance to us. The close of a day of wind and dust will in ninety-nine times in every hundred indicate whether the following day will be fine and clear or windy and dusty. The close of a fine day will not always foretell a following day of wind and dust.

“Let me be clear. Any person having a reasonable knowledge of this part of Australia knows at the close of a day of wind and dust what will be the conditions of the next day. Our murderer has this knowledge. He strangles after a day of wind and dust and when the weather signs at sunset foretell another day of wind and dust to follow. You say that Dreyton was a new chum to the bush, and most certainly a stranger to this part of it, when Alice Tindall was murdered. Therefore, his ignorance of the bush and its weather portents go far towards wiping his name off our list. Hang-dog Jack-how long has he been working in this district?”

“At least five years. He was a sailor at one time, but he is certainly a bushman now.”

“A sailor, eh! Hum! Promising. All right, let us try a little harder to visualize this murderer. His climbing exploits indicate great strength, agility and familiarity with certain trees. His mental ability is proved by the fact that he wears rubber-soled shoes, by the fact that he likes to take his victims unawares by dropping out of a tree as they pass under him, and by the fact that he chooses a night for his crime when it is certain it will blow with force the next day. Lastly, and most importantly, by the fact that he does not leave at the scene of his crimes his wooden leg or his braces, his glass eye, if he wears one, or any of the normal clues which occupy such important positions in a normal murder trial. I am not being humorous. There are a hundred clues our strangler could have left behind him, none of which Simone could be expected to discover, all of which I would discover.”

“Motive?” breathed Constable Lee.

“I have been expecting you to raise that point,” continued Bony.“Motive! By the repetition of his crimes our murderer has made his fatal mistake. Taken separately, each crime could offer several motives, or one of several. Together they point to no one particular motive save gratification of the lust to kill.

“The Strangler’s victims have been two women and one man. Two of them were robbed of their lives; the third almost lost hers. Nothing was taken from the bodies, and the three victims were not connected with each other, and could scarcely have been connected with the Strangler through scheme or plot, jealousy or frustration.

“Into this brute’s activities chance enters strongly. He may be periodically governed by his lust to kill. It may be-I think it is-that the presentation of the opportunity to kill has to be coincidental with the periodic outbursts of lust. By that I mean that the murderer may have been presented with victims coincidental with a particular weather phase, that he did not choose the dates on which he killed though he must have known that the following day would be stormy. It is possible that every night separating two days of high wind he is out on the hunt for avictim, and that only by chance does he obtain one.”

Constable Lee’s lips were pressed tightly together and his eyes were gleaming from beneath lowered lids. Bony smiled at him and added:

“So you see, Lee, that no reasonable man could expect Sergeant Simone to succeed. But reasonable men will expect success of me. Who is the oldest resident in this district?”