Arthur Upfield - Winds of Evil

“Then the baby died, and when John got out, instead of going home to Ma, he walked direct to the pub and started drinking again. That finished Ma with him. She was never the same to him again, and I don’t blame her. Watkins had no business to serve him, and ever since she took over the pub, Ma watches the married men, and if she thinks they’re boozing too much she puts ’emon the Blackfeller’s Act, and James keeps ’emout. If that baby had lived, poor John might have gone straight, but I doubt it. He was too far gone.”

“Hum! Very sad, Mr. Littlejohn,” murmured Bony. “Your wife, I suppose, assisted to prepare the little body for burial?”

“She did, young feller, she did,” Grandfer replied shortly-so shortly that Bony did not expect him to continue. However, after a space of five seconds, he went on: “Old man Borradale was very good to Ma Nelson. He provided the coffin and things, and the baby was buried up at the cemetery, old man Borradale reading the service, and crying over it, too. Yes, my wife, rest her soul, was Ma Nelson’s greatest friend, and when Ma came into that bit of money she wasn’t forgotten.”

“That was kind of Mrs. Nelson.”

“Too right!”Grandfer instantly agreed. “She gave my missus, rest her soul, a clear thousand pounds, although no onenever knew anything about it afterwards. I-I-”

The ancient ceasedspeaking, and Bony could see him peering down at him.

“I shouldn’t have told you that,” Grandfer said anxiously. “I promised Ma I never would. I never even told my son and his wife about it, nor anyone else. Itsorta slipped out, you see. Don’t you say a word about it to anyone, there’s a goodlad. ”

“We will both forget this talk, Mr. Littlejohn,” Bony suggested quickly. “If you say nothing of our conversation this evening, I’ll say nothing about that money. What doyou say to a pint of good beer?”

The ancient leapt to his feet.

“That beer what arrived the day aforeyestiddyoughta be well settled be now,” he said brightly, no longer living in the past. “Still, I can’t shout back, Joe. Me daughter-in-law don’t let my son slip memore’n two bob a weekterbacco money.”

“Then I will shout twice,” suggested the very pleased detective.

But Bony walked pensively to the hotel, with Grandfer Littlejohn hopping along beside him like a sprightly sparrow.

Two Appeals

IF THE EVENING when Bony talked with Grandfer Littlejohn hinted at yet another wind-storm, the next morning most plainly predicted it. There was an entire absence of wind and not a leaf stirred among all the great river red-gums. A tenuous high-level haze produced in the sunlight a distinctly yellow tint, while the flies were far more sticky than usual, and the seeming lack of oxygen had a depressing effect on both men and animals.

When Bony entered the office a few minutes before noon, he found Martin at work at his writing-table.

“Hullo, Bony!” the squatter said wearily. “Sit down, will you. My book-keeper left yesterday, as probably you know, and I’m up to my eyes in office work.”

“Isn’t Dreyton due in?”

“Today or tomorrow,” was the reply, spoken irritably. “I do wish he would stop here for good. Dependable man, Dreyton. When he’s here, everything goes with a swing. Have you seen that couple who are camped at Catfish Hole?”

“No, but I have heard they are there.”

“Then you probably know that the man is about forty, and his wife slim and light-weight and only half his age. Lee tells me he has warned the fellow of what has happened along Nogga Creek, and what might happen to the woman if they persist in staying there. Then the man produced a miner’s right this morning and pointed out the corner pegs of a claim he intends working just below the water.”

“And that waterhole being on Crown land, no one can argue with the miner and his miner’s right,” Bony said calmly while rolling the inevitable cigarette.

“I am not so sure,” Borradale countered with a show of temper. “I’m not so sure that they can’t be moved away. I am the sitting Justice. Here are Lee and yourself, representatives of the law. We ought to be able to devise some action to remove them from what I think is still a grave danger.”

“Yes, it could be done, of course,” conceded Bony. “I could complain to Constable Lee of being assaulted by the man. Lee could arrest him, and you could remand him for the Divisional Magistrate to deal with. We three would have to stick together in the frame-up. If it came out-”

“What the devil are you driving at?”

“I am outlining one way we could adopt to move that couple from Nogga Creek,” Bony calmly answered. “There are, of course, other methods. You and I could kill a sheep this side of the boundary-fence and then swear we saw the miner killing it.”

“This has gone far enough,” Martin almost shouted, his eyes blazing with indignation. “If you think I am a liar and a perjurer you are-”

“I fervently hope not, Mr. Borradale,” interrupted the now smiling Bony. “I was merely suggesting ways and means-not that you would even consider them. I would, of course, never lend myself to anything so gross. The fact is that the man has legal right to be where he is, and we have no legal right to move him from where he is. He has been made conversant with the ugly history of Nogga Creek, and, if tragedy comes to his wife or himself, you and Lee and I can be held blameless.”

“But all that does not remove the very grave danger, to the woman especially. I am more or less responsible for this district, and every day since Simone arrested Barry Elson I am becoming more convinced that he has arrested the wrong man.” Martin vigorously banged a clenched fist down upon the table. “Is it not your duty to prevent a crime if possible?”

“It is, I believe, the duty of an ordinary policeman,” Bony gravely admitted. Then, although his face remained serious, his eyes began to twinkle. “I like crimes to be committed. A cleverly executed crime is ever a delight to a man having my brains to solve it.”

“Ye gods!”Martin cried despairingly.

“What on earth would I do for a living; how would I maintain my wife and children and keep the eldest at the university if people did not commit crimes? Oh, no… I certainly would never attempt to prevent a crime, especially a first-class murder.”

Borradale sighed with exasperation.

“Then it is a pity that Sergeant Simone arrested Elson and took him away to Broken Hill. He would have moved on those people.”

“Sergeant Simone is a man capable of doing anything, Mr. Borradale. On the other hand, he is very tiresome when his somewhat original personality begins to wear on one. Honestly, though, that miner cannot be moved against his will. I will see him this afternoon and try to persuade him to go somewhere else. I can at least paint a word picture which will keep the woman inside the tent after sundown.”

Martin swiftly became his normal self.

“If you would do that, it would be something,” he said. “We can’t do more than our best to move them away. By the look of the sky today we are in for another wind-storm. It will be a snorter, too, so late in the year as this. You understand the incidence of those crimes taking place during a wind-storm?”

“Yes. The fellow is clever enough to choose his time when his tracks are certain to be wiped out very shortly after he commits a murder. He has his wits to that extent.”

Martin fell to staring hard at the detective.

“Would it be too much to ask if you have any inkling of his identity?” he asked.

“By no means, Mr. Borradale. I have inmind at least three men, one of whom could be the Strangler. It has been a very difficult case and yet one profoundly interesting. Solving a crime mystery depends largely on the element of luck. I have read of no prolonged investigation which did not contain the element of luck to make it successful. It has become the fashion to sneer at coincidences, as though coincidence was never found mixing the destinies of men and women. This case has been exceptionally barren of coincidence, but my investigation has been attended with luck. However, the detective’s greatest asset is patience, and patience is my greatest gift. When investigating a crime I permit nothing to disturb me, not even this private letter from my revered chief, Colonel Spendor. Listen.”