Death of a Swagman. Arthur W. Upfield
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yourself. How long have you been stationed at this district?”
“Eleven years, sir. A long time.”
“You didn’t get along too well with Redman, did you? ”
“Well, no, sir, I didn’t,” Marshall admitted, his mind instantly imagining an adverse report on him by Detective Sergeant Redman. “You see—”
Bony cut in, nodding his head to emphasize his words: “Yes, I know. Redman is a city man. He has no bush background like you and me, and Gleeson, your constable. Redman is used to bullying loose women and thieves for information. We have had to use our grey matter and obtain our information from such things as sand and birds and tracks. Wouldn’t you like a change to a big town or city?”
The sergeant nodded. Bony’s clear blue eyes and dark face seemed to blaze into a flashing smile and the other man’s mind began simultaneously to work along two lines of thought: one that this famous detective could do him an extra good turn, and the other that only now was this half-caste revealing to him his personality. It was as though the smile was a lamp showing a man seen previously only in half-light. When Bony continued speaking, even his voice changed from the soft tones of his mother’s people to the fuller cadences of the white man used to authority. Already Sergeant Marshall was becoming aware of his own mental inferiority. Bony was saying:
“Men like you who have gained valuable administrative ability are often the forgotten men of our state’s police force. You see, I have so often worked pleasurably with men of your type. You rule over an area of thousands of square miles, efficiently and without fuss, and the chiefs are unconcerned because you do not give them concern. I have given my chief a great deal of concern—and I am an inspector. I will show you how to earn promotion and a move to a large town or city where Rose Marie will receive a better chance in life. You and I will co-operate. We understand each other and the bushlands. Redman was a child—here in our element.”
“That’s so.” he agreed.
“Well, then, if you can spare the time from your labours of collating statistics about sheep and fences and bores and income taxes and stinkweed and other stupid things not connected with the maintenance of law and order, I would like you to relate to me in chronological sequence the facts concerning this murder. Redman’s report is full enough, but I want to hear the story from a bushman.”
Marshall nodded. Bony was an entirely new experience, one that he was liking more and more.
“On the night of October eleventh last,” he began, “there was held in the local hall a social and dance. In point of attendance it was most successful, nearly all the townsfolk being present as well as most of the people from the surrounding stations. Mrs James, the wife of the parson, organized it in aid of the aborigines’ missions, and what she organizes is always successful.
“There was also present George Kendall, a stockman employed on Wattle Creek Station, riding from a hut at a place called Sandy Flat, which is three miles due east of Merino and close against the Walls of China.
“Nothing much of Kendall’s history is known. He came east from the Darling River stations about a year ago, and got the job on Wattle Creek Station. He was unmarried and apparently had no relatives. His age was thought to be about thirty-eight. He was a good stockman. He never drank to excess, and he never gave us any trouble. He was a gambler but a poor sportsman, and his movements that night of October eleventh were as follows:
“He arrived in town about six o’clock and checked in at the hotel for the night. He stabled his horse at the rear of the hotel, had a few drinks at the bar, then had dinner, and later was seen by Gleeson, my constable, playing poker for matches with three travellers. He left the hotel with the licensee and his wife to go to the function at the hall, which was timed to begin at eight, the social part lasting till ten o’clock and the dancing continuing from then until midnight.”
“There was a full moon that night?” Bony interposed.
“Yes, there was a moon ... a full moon, I think. ”
“What were the weather conditions?”
“Clear sky and a wind.”
“About what was the velocity of the wind?”
“I couldn’t say. It was not a very strong wind that night. ”
“No matter. I can find that out later. Proceed.”
“I didn’t go the chivoo,” Marshall continued. “I had a lot of those damn-fool statistics to make up, but Gleeson was on duty outside the hall and he had my permission to have a dance or two. He’s fairly popular, although you wouldn’t think so to look at him. Stickler for duty and regulations is Mounted Constable Gleeson.
“My wife went with Florence, our daughter. According to Gleeson, the chivoo was in full swing by eight o’clock. There was a whist drive going on in one portion of the hall, and children’s games were being conducted in another part. Now and then someone would be asked to go to the stage and give a song or a recitation.
“When Kendall entered the hall there was a children’s game called musical chairs going on. Our girl was in this game. Mrs James was playing the music on a piano and every time she stopped all the children rushed to the chairs, one of which was always short. Kendall went over to watch the game when Mrs James was playing and the children were dancing round the chairs in a circle. It turns out that when Mrs James stopped playing Florence hesitated in choosing a chair to run to, and Kendall pushed her with unnecessary violence so that she tripped and fell.
“The child wasn’t hurt, but the push ruined her chance of getting a chair. The parson, Mr Llewellyn James, admonished Kendall for interfering, and Kendall said: ‘I was only showing the silly brat what chair to go to.’ With that, young Jason, the son of the garage proprietor, walked up to Kendall, put a hammer lock on him, and marched him from the hall. There might have been a fight outside had not Gleeson been there, and to Gleeson, Kendall explained that what had happened was an accident. Young Jason went back inside, and after Gleeson had a few words with him. Kendall went in.
“At half past nine they served supper, and after supper all the children left and the dancing began. It was when Gleeson was having a dance that Kendall said something to young Jason and they went quietly out and fought in an adjacent allotment. Result: Kendall won and Jason wasn’t seen again that night.
“The following morning when the hotel yardman went to the stables he found that Kendall’s horse had been taken away, and the maid found that Kendall’s room had not been occupied by him. Late in the morning of October twelfth the owner of Wattle Creek Station and one of his hands called at the hut at Sandy Flat to leave rations for Kendall. They found his horse standing saddled and bridled outside the horse paddock gate, and they found Kendall lying dead on the floor of his hut. The table was upturned and a chair broken. The door was closed. Kendall lay in a pool of blood, and the doctor who examined the body said that he had been killed with a blunt instrument, his skull badly smashed.”
“What time did you arrive on the scene?” Bony asked.
“Four minutes to two o’clock.”
“What were the weather conditions? ”
“Fine with a wind blowing from the west. ”
“How strong was the wind?”
“Medium strength, I suppose. Not strong, but strong enough to blow dust.”
“Are there any aborigines in the district?”
“Yes, but they come and go. When here they usually camp at Wattle Creek.”
“Where were they when Kendall was murdered?” asked Bony.
“They were camped on Wattle Creek ... below the homestead.”
“None of them was outside the hall that night?”
“No. Two were brought across to Sandy Flat the next day to see if they could pick up any tracks, but by that time the wind had erased any tracks made