Venom House. Arthur W. Upfield
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Answerth’s Folly. With one of the men, she had gone in the station boat and retrieved the body. There was no doubt that Mrs Answerth was dead.
“As Miss Answerth proceeded to give me orders, I cut her short by saying I would leave at once with Dr Lofty. I had to wait ten minutes for the doctor, but we reached Answerth’s Folly at 8.35. While the doctor was examining the body, I got Miss Answerth to tell me about her discovery of it.
“It appears that every work-day morning Miss Answerth leaves the house and wades over the causeway to the men’s quarters on the shore end. There’s a long story behind how the house came to be surrounded by water, and the rest. Anyway, Miss Answerth was nearly over the causeway when she saw something unusual floating on the Folly, and presently she saw it was her mother’s body. It was about twenty yards off-shore and half that distance from the causeway.
“The men were at breakfast when she reached the quarters, and she ordered the cook to fetch the boat and went with him to bring the body to land. She then went back to the house and telephoned me. The cook ... feller by the name of Blaze ... substantiated her story in part.
“This being the second drowning in Answerth’s Folly, and the first being medically proved to have been homicide, we thought that Mrs Answerth had been murdered the same way, that is, by being held under the surface and drowned, like Edward Carlow was murdered. On examining the body, Dr Lofty found a red mark about the neck indicating that the woman had been strangled with a light rope or a cord having distinctly bulging strands. However, he would not be definite about this until he had done the post mortem.”
“Was the body clothed?”
“Yes, fully dressed. The air imprisoned by the clothes kept the body floating. When subsequently I visited the house to interview the inmates, I learned that Mrs Answerth was last seen alive when going up to bed. There was no suggestion of suicide.”
“What was the reaction of Mary Answerth when you arrived with the doctor?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary, sir. I didn’t expect to find any difference in her front. She was very angry ... and most times she’s angry ... and demanded that I get going and arrest the murderer. You know, like being annoyed at having a steer lifted. She roared when we insisted on having the body brought to the morgue, but made no bones about bringing the body to the morgue in her station wagon, she herself driving it. At the morgue she bullied Dr Lofty to get on with his examination so’s she could hand the body over to the undertaker, and I’m thinking that Lofty has purposely delayed his report just to get his own back for what she said to him.”
“She seems unusually masculine,” Bony observed.
“I’ll be candid, sir,” Mawson said, grimly. “There’s no one in this district I’m afraid to handle if he has to be handled. Excepting that he-woman. She’s ruddy dynamite. I’m more than glad that Headquarters sent you down here at once.”
“I was not sent, Mawson. I chose to come. The case promised interest, in view of the other murder. We’ll discuss that tonight. Tomorrow we’ll visit the scene and pay our respects to the Misses Answerth. May I hope for your co-operation?”
Mawson made no effort to hide his eagerness.
“Certainly, sir. Only too pleased to give a hand. Inspector Stanley didn’t want any co-operation when he came down on the Carlow drowning.”
“And failed to finalize it, Mawson,” Bony reminded. “I understand that you have been stationed here eight years, and therefore would know the district and the people as well as your own quarters and your family. I am familiar with Inspector Stanley’s attitude to the uniformed men. He cross-examined you, and you felt he was trying to trap you into making an error. Naturally, you were unable to give of your best. He wanted only the bald facts, I’m sure. In addition to facts, Mawson, I shall want from you opinions, suppositions, ideas. I shall want you to treat me as a colleague, and eventually as a friend. Thus we shall succeed.”
“Glad to hear it, sir. It’s like breathing fresh air to listen to you.”
“Good! Take your first breath by omitting the “sir” when there isn’t a third party present. I am Bony to all my friends. Even the Chief Commissioner calls me Bony to my face. Did you ever meet him?”
“Only on Passing-Out Parade.”
“Choleric, Mawson. Horrible blood pressure. I am sometimes concerned that he will drop dead before me ... when damning and blasting me for declining to obey orders at the double. But at heart a kindly man, Mawson. Like myself, Colonel Spendor is unable to suffer fools gladly or otherwise. So this is Edison.”
“This is Edison,” repeated Mawson. “Situation very healthy. People just like people of other towns, having the same virtues and vices. One pub, two churches, three banks. The bank managers don’t associate with the publican, who could buy up the banks, and the publican don’t associate with the parsons. Usual women’s leagues and such-like. Average number of drunks, till-ticklers, scandal-mongers and snobs.”
And yet, Bony found Edison in advance of “other towns”. When the track became a macadamized road, the policeman’s car began to work up a long slope. The road entered the town, and Main Street continued the slope upward. They passed a bank, some shops and the Shire Hall. They stopped beside the service car halted outside a dilapidated tin shed, from which Mike Falla emerged to transfer Bony’s case. They proceeded up Main Street, passing the police station on one side and the home of The Edison News on the other. Bony caught a glimpse of the butcher’s shop, other banks, a church either side the street.
The hotel was of red brick, a modern monstrosity and a travesty in this street of weatherboard and cement sheet and corrugated iron. Then Bony was looking at a neat little villa at the very top end of the street, guarded by two poplars and a white-painted picket fence. He was given a momentary vision of wide spaces in which lay folds of tree-covered hills, long white sand dunes, a wide arc of vivid blue sea. The light abruptly dimmed, and he found himself in a small hall furnished with a hat-stand, two chairs and a telephone on a small table. He heard Constable Mawson say:
“My sister, Mrs Nash. Inspector Bonaparte, Jean. Like to put up here for a bit.”
He bowed to a gaunt, grey-haired woman in her early forties. He was not charmed, for her face was wrecked by recent illness, and her dark eyes were without expression. One second that impression lasted. The next second she was smiling at him. The dark eyes were alive. The lips were parted in a smile of welcome, and swiftly-drawn lines brushed away all the hardness.
He was introduced to a large front bedroom exceptionally well furnished, and then to the lounge, colourful and inviting, which he could consider his own. Having showered and dressed, he was introduced to the dining-room, where he ate a first-class meal with his hostess and her daughter.
When the light was almost gone from the inverted celestial bowl resting upon the world at a lower altitude than the town, he entered the office of the police station to find Constable Mawson at his desk.
“Now, now, Mawson, don’t get up. Smoke if you wish. Both of us will probably do a lot of hard smoking before we’re through.”
“Thank you, sir ... Bony.”
Bony drew a second chair to the side of the constable’s desk, and proceeded to manufacture an alleged cigarette.
“The P.M. report come in yet?” he asked.
“Doctor said he’d like to bring it himself. Suggests I ring him when convenient to you.”
“Oh! Considerate. Better call him now.”
Mawson’s hand was beginning to reach for the instrument when its alternating buzzer demanded attention. Mawson lifted the instrument. Bony could hear the distant voice. The policeman looked at him beneath quizzing sandy brows. He spoke with grave politeness.
“Yes, the Inspector is here now. Yes, very well.”
The large sandy-haired hand was cupped about the mouthpiece.
“Miss