Arthur Upfield - Winds of Evil

“Later, perhaps, thank you. Do you know Mrs. Nelson’s history?”

“Yes-from the year Tigue came here to practise, in 1906. At that time Mrs. Nelson was living with her husband in one of the poorer houses in Carie. Her husband was Cobb and Co.’s groom. In February, 1910, she, and not her husband, bought the hotel.”

“One of the pages in the case-book for that year is missing, is it not so?”

“It is.”

“As the wife of a horse change-groom, where did Mrs. Nelson get the money with which to purchase thehotel. Do you know?”

“She has said, and I have heard it from several people, that she inherited the money from an aunt.”

“Well, what other important dates are there?”

“In 1914 Nelson died, and from that year Mrs. Nelson prospered. I understand that he was an alcoholic.”

“Ah! And the year 1914 is also remarkable for the missing leaf in the case-book devoted to it.”

“Yes, but he died towards the end of the year, and the missing leaf deals with notes made in June. The notes concerning the death are still in the book.”

“There is no reference in all the case-books to the wounds which caused the scars on Mrs. Nelson’s neck?”

“Nothing.”

“The wounding might have been done before Doctor Tigue came to Carie?”

“But it wasn’t,” Dr. Mulray almost shouted. “Across in old Grandfer’s son’s house is a photograph of Mrs. Nelson and her husband and a small crowd taken outside the hotel at the time she purchased it. In the picture Mrs. Nelson is wearing a low-cut blouse.”

“Dear me!”Bony sighed, to add sharply, “What more do you know, doctor?”

“Nothing. And yet I have often scented a mystery enveloping the acquisition of the hotel by Mrs. Nelson. Old Dogger Smith once told me that Mrs. Nelson never had an aunt to die and leave her any money. There are two men who could tell us quite a lot about those early days-if they chose. One is Dogger Smith and the other is Grandfer Littlejohn. For heaven’s sake don’t ask Littlejohn anything. He would be sure to tell Mrs. Nelson.”

“There may be no connection between the scars on Mrs. Nelson’s neck and the Strangler,” Bony said slowly. “I must mentally chew all you have told me. Did Mrs. Nelson have any children?”

“Yes-one. A male child. It died a day or so after it was born.”

“What was the date of the birth?”

“The fourth of January, 1910.”

“Oh! And the leaf torn from Tigue’s case-book for that year bore reference to Mrs. Nelson! I must see those casebooks… now… with your kind permission.”

Dr. Mulray was absent from the room only two minutes.

“I am a great believer in intuition,” Bony told him on his return. “This matter of Mrs. Nelson’s neck scars may be the essential clue in this extraordinary case I am looking into. I have been baulked and baffled for a lead, and this may well be it. Now for those dates as I write them down, thus:

1st March1906-Tigue begins practising in Carie. Mrs. Nelson and husband living in poor house. Nelson is Cobb and Co.’s change-groom.

4th January1910-Mrs. Nelson gives birth to a male child. Child dies a day or so after birth.

February1910-Mrs. Nelson purchases Carie Hotel, as it was then named, with money from a legacy.

Leaf in case-book for this year, probably dealing with the birth of Mrs. Nelson’s baby, is missing.

20th June1914-Nearthis date another leaf is missing in the year’s case-book. One page of this leaf also devoted to Mrs. Nelson.

27th November1914-Nelson dies of alcoholic poisoning.”

“What do you make of it all?” inquired the interested Dr. Mulray.

“Nothing of much import just now, doctor,” Bony replied in that clipped voice which betrayed mental excitement. “The missing leaves in these case-books provide us with a mystery, the solution of which may solve the identity of the Strangler. It is a thought, however, which might well be father to the wish. We can, with assurance, guess what concerns Mrs. Nelson on the page torn from the book devoted to the year 1910, the birth of her child and its death. By the way, from your examination of the books, do you think Tigue would note its death on the missing page?”

“Yes. That is why I assumed its death. It is not noted elsewhere. Further, I had heard that Mrs. Nelson’s only child died in infancy.”

“Oh, indeed! Then as yet we have not proof of its death. I wonder, now, for what Dr. Tigue attended Mrs. Nelson about 20th June, 1914? Did he attend her for wounds on the neck caused by attempted strangulation?”

Bony stood up, and Dr. Mulray always remembered him as he looked at this moment-slim and yet indicative of power, his eyes lit with the flame of mental vigour. “Doctor, I thank you,” he said gravely.

The Warning

THE NEW BOOK-KEEPER for Wirragatta arrived on the morning of 1st December. The next day he took over the office from Donald Dreyton, and the day following Dreyton departed, with his camels, on another inspection of his one hundred and eighty-three mile section of boundary-fence.

As usual, this morning of 3rd December, Bony, as Joe Fisher, accompanied the men to the office at half-past seven, where they received orders for the day. As usual, promptly on time, Martin Borradale emerged through the wicket gate in the homestead garden fence and walked briskly towards the knot of waiting men.

He had a nice way with his employees, which went far in retaining their loyalty. He would always halt several yards from the gathered men and, after giving a general good morning, would call each to him in turn and give his orders in quiet, confidential tones.

This morning he called first Harry West, and what he had to say occupied a full five minutes. Having received his orders, Harry came away with a stony face and paused beside Bony to whisper that he was to take the ton-truck with wire and fencing-tools out to a place called Westall Corner and there assist Dogger Smith, who had accepted a fewweek’s work fence repairing.

If there was a man Bony was anxious to meet it was this Dogger Smith, and when, on having called him, Martin Borradale asked with a smile what work he would like to be given this day, Bony requested to be sent with Harry West.

“All right, Bony. Are you looking for a spell of real work?”

“Physical work always bores me, Mr. Borradale, but it invariably improves my digestive organs.”

“How is your investigation going?”

“Slowly but surely.”

“I am glad to hear that,” Borradale said warmly. “My sister, having guessed who you are, has been talking to me quite a lot about you. You know old Stanton and the Trenches at Windee! Jolly fine people, aren’t they?”

“They are among the finest I have met,” Bony agreed with equal warmth. “I hope you do not take it amiss that I have not confided in you about my investigation, but I always work along certain lines. However, it is due to you to know that I wish to examine this man called Dogger Smith. Can I have your permission to use the truck should I desire to return here before the fence repairing is completed?”

“Certainly-but I would like you to leave the camp with sufficient water to last for three or four days. Would you inform me on one point which has bothered me for some time? I cannot think what motive the Strangler has in killing people. Do you think he is a lunatic?”

Bony looked deep into the candid grey eyes and then examined in a split second the boyish, kindly face. Slowly he shook his head.

“I don’t really know what to think, Mr. Borradale. Were he a lunatic he would not select the time and the place when opportunity presented him with a victim. Were he a lunatic he could not hide his lunacy from his associates for long. I may be wrong, of course, but that is what I think. The Strangler is a man who is controlled in exaggerated form by the lust to kill. This same lust, in much lesser degree, finds expression in the normal man who shoots pigeons released from traps, and who kills animals and birds when not bound to do so for food. I should say that the Strangler is a man who has never mentally matured.”