Arthur Upfield - Winds of Evil

“Yes. Or rather, there need be no excuse. There is a small matter of a choked bore-drain I wish to see Mr. Borradale about.”

“Very well. Mention to him that I have played chess all night and that I have accepted the doctor’s kind invitation to stay the day. He will probably want to know what a detective means by playing chess all night and then sleeping all day, but no matter. It is important that you find some pretext to interview Donald Dreyton and Hang-dog Jack and note if they behave abnormally-if they show any signs of having been struggling, even of gunshot wounds. If you can overlook all the other men, do so. Then ride across to theStorries ’ and have a look at Fred and his son Tom.

“I was attacked on the north bank of the creek under the trees approximately opposite that tall leopardwood-tree growing out on the plain. I made a distinct cross on the clay-pan on which I regained consciousness. I want you to search for my pistol and torch. I was too ill to do so myself. Make a thorough examination of the locality for clues and tracks. Tracks there will be none, I feel sure. You may find a shred of grey flannel cloth. Is that clear? Oh, and you will say nothing to anyone of my adventure.”

“Perfectly, sir-er-Bony.”

“No more,” interrupted the doctor, flourishing a hypodermic syringe. “That’ll do for the present, Lee. Take a stiffener before you leave and tell your good wife to keep her mouth shut. I’ll be having that Mrs. Mumps here in an hour, and I’ll have to explain about the fire being lit so early. And now, Inspector Bonaparte, you are going to indulge in a nice long nap. Where will you have it? In the arm is as good as anywhere. That’s the idea. I like a man with guts, because I have none myself. I wouldn’t have loitered about Nogga Creek at that hour for the price of Wirragatta itself. Bless my soul! And Simone’s arrested the wrong man! Haha! Now close your eyes and sleep.”

When Bony awoke, the sun was striking full on the lowered blind. The wind no longer heaved and strained at the roof iron and drummed on the walls. The house stillness permitted the sounds of Carie’s life to penetrate into the room-the not unpleasant sounds of goat and cow bells and a blacksmith’s hammer on ringing iron.

He was feeling much better in himself, and his throat felt much less painful. Save for the stiffness of neck muscles, he had almost recovered from his ordeal, and he earnestly blessed Dr. Mulray-and his coat-collar. He was smoking his second cigarette when the old man came into the room. “Ah! Humph! Smoking, eh!” he exclaimed in noticeably subdued voice. “Mrs. Mumps thinks that we had a night of it together and she is now preparing dinner for us, with plenty of Worcestershire sauce in the soup. Great stuff, that sauce. Her husband always drinks a full bottle after one of his benders in order to settle his stomach-what’s left of his stomach, I mean.”

“I am almost completely recovered, doctor, thanks to you,” Bony said as he swung his legs to the floor and so came to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Good! Excellent! Lee is in the study. If you can manage it, I suggest that you dress and come along. We must not arouse the suspicions of my housekeeper. I’ll examine the neck first, though.”

“Show me the bath-room, or may I use the washstand here?”

“Whichever you please. The shower is on the back veranda. I’ll run out and see if Mrs. Mumps will favour us with a pot of tea.” The ponderous old man rolled away to the door, but before opening it turned and smiled and said, “We can add brandy to the tea if we choose.”

Fifteen minutes later the detective was sipping tea and smoking a cigarette in the study. In his workaday station-hand’s clothes, he did not appear as disreputable as he might have done had Dr. Mulray’s clothes looked better than they were. Lee was in uniform, and the wearing of uniform had a distinctly official effect on both his appearance and his mind.

“I gave your excuse to Mr. Borradale,” he began his report. “He didn’t believe it, but it hardly mattered. He was more relieved with the wind having gone round to thesouth’ard early this morning, when it lost its power to raise the dust. Dreyton looked all right. Smart as always. As for Hang-dog Jack-well, his eyes were red from lack of sleep and his temper was bad. The others were normal. Fred Storrie is in bed with a mild attack of influenza, which he says he got down at Broken Hill. Tom looked and behaved all right. He’s doing the cooking and looking after his father while the women are down in Adelaide.

“I found your gun and torch at the edge of the claypan you scored with a cross. The torch is all right, but the gun is empty and clogged with grit.”

“So Fred Storrie is in bed with influenza, is he? Did you see him?”

“Yes. He’s got it sure enough. I hope I don’t catch it…”

“Could Storrie successfully trick a layman into believing he had influenza, doctor?”

“He might. He wouldn’t trickme, though,” asserted Mulray. “But surely-”

Bony stood up and sauntered to the window, before which he lingered. The doctor glanced at the policeman, and Lee placed a finger to his mouth, indicating the advisability of silence. Opposite the doctor’s house was the hall and drawn up outside the side entrance was a car and a man pouring water into the radiator. The scene recalled to Bony’s mind the car driver who filled his radiator only after the static electricity had been allowed to drain from his car. When he turned back to the doctor and Lee, his eyes were smiling.

“I am going to take you both into my confidence, not because I love you so much, but because I need your assistance. It is not really the detective’s business to take anybody into his confidence, but then, you see, I am not a real policeman,” Bony told them.

“When I first came here, Constable Lee prepared for me a list of the names of everyone living in and around Carie over the last two full years. I have struck out all but eleven names. Among the remaining eleven is the Strangler. I haven’t proof of it, but I yet believe it. Your name, doctor, is one of the names struck off. I am about to strike off your name, Lee. That will leave ten names.”

Rapidly Bony related all that he had seen and experienced during the night of terror, and the discerning Dr. Mulray came to understand the real measure of Bony’s courage. Lee listened intently, and twice essayed to take his long and narrow note-book from his pocket.

“I never saw my assailant,” Bony concluded. “That he is exceptionally strong in the hands and arms, I was given ample proof. Understand, a man who is strong in his hands and arms need not be strong in his legs and body, and he need not be a big man. What caused him to fling me aside before he had killed me we shall probably never know, unless it is that I winged him with my pistol, or that its reports frightenedhim. You say, Lee, that all the cartridges were expended?”

“Yes; the gun was empty. It seems evident that we’ll have to put that cook through the hoops. Hang-dog Jack’s the man right enough. Why, he’s strong enough to hold me. Is he on your list of suspects?”

“He is,” Bony admitted. “And yet we will not question him or permit him to think we suspect him. I had you among the eleven suspects, Lee, because youcould have killed those two and attacked Mabel. I have taken you off the list because you wear a nine-size boot. Who the other eight on the list are I will not inform you just yet.”

Lee grinned ruefully.

“You’re a strange fellow, Bony,” he said.

“Ah! How many times have I heard that? I wonder now if Dreyton is responsible for the introduction of it into this district. Well, there are quite a number of strange fellows here. Tell me, doctor, can you guess what Dreyton was before he left England? It is sometimes easy to tell a man’s profession from his gait, his eyes, even the cast of his face.”