Feminine Observations
A MAN on maintenance work at one of the mines had reported sick and, having checked out with the timekeeper, he had made his way down through the top hamper of the mine to reach a path crossing the sandy and littered flat to one of the abutting streets. It was quite dark, but, being familiar with the path, he was able to follow it, and where it skirted a mullock dump he almost tripped over the body. He had ascertained, with the aid of a match, that the body was that of a woman and, being a member of a First Aid Section, he recognised death.
Crome, who lived farthest from Headquarters, had been eating supper when recalled. He arrived at the scene with a doctor a few minutes after Abbot, who had collected several men. The doctor found the blade of a knife buried in the woman’s breast, and the place was cordoned and the body brought to the city morgue.
Bony, having met Policewoman Lodding, was shocked but determined not to be sidetracked from his own investigation. Crome was confident that he could deal with this type of homicide and raised for discussion the division of forces. It was agreed that Bony retain as his assistants Senior Detective Abbot and another man, and so by daybreak Crome had ample forces, which included black trackers, and Bony and Abbot were in bed.
Later Abbot was first at Headquarters, Bony being delayed by an interview with Mrs Robinov.
“You have a car?” he asked Abbot, who said he owned a motor-cycle. “Hopeless to ask for a police car, and I want you to call on Mrs Wallace and that Mrs Lucas you saw yesterday and persuade them to come to Goldspink’s shop at two this afternoon. Explain to them that their advice and assistance is needed with reference to the pictures they saw Mills paint last night.”
“Very well, sir.”
“How is that other affair coming along?”
“Don’t know much about it,” replied Abbot. “Sergeant Crome is still out. I did hear that the knife blade in Miss Lodding’s body is made of glass. Where the blade joins the hilt a file was used to make a circular cut, so weakening the weapon that after the blow was delivered the murderer was able to snap off the hilt, leaving the blade in the wound and preventing bleeding.”
“A glass dagger, Abbot! Peculiar kind of weapon.”
“That’s so, sir. Light blue glass, triangular down to an inch of the point.”
“Well, don’t let us be diverted from our own job,” Bony said. “Our three murders are quite enough to keep us fully extended.”
Abbot left, and Bony telephoned David Mills and arranged that Mills also be at Goldspink’s shop at two o’clock, taking his painting materials. At eleven Luke Pavier rang.
“This Lodding business, Mr Friend,” Luke said. “It doesn’t come into our agreement, does it?”
“No, Luke, you can go your hardest.”
“Anything for me,” pleaded the reporter, “on this Lodding murder?”
“Nothing. I know nothing. Haven’t seen Crome this morning.”
“All right. We’re putting out a special. I found aladdie and his lass who saw the Lodding woman in the company of a man late last night. Just beat Crome to it. Reduced the stuff about Gromberg to five lines. That please you?”
“It does.”
“These women,” Luke ran on. “The straight-backed, flat-chestedLodding walking out with a man. Whatd’ya think? Passed under a street light. Man’s arm linked through hers. Tall and handsome gentleman who wore gloves. Bad luck the lovers didn’t see his face. Old Crome shouldn’t fall down on this job, though. See you later.”
Crome didn’t think he would, either. He dropped in on Bony to relate his progress, describing how the trackers had backtracked the murdered woman and her companion to a street ending abruptly at the narrow flatpf waste ground. It was in that street they had been seen by the lovers, who stood just inside a garden gate.
“Trackers are now looking for the handle of the dagger,” Crome said. “I made good plaster casts of the man’s tracks. Like to see ’emsometime?”
“Yes, sometime. Should find Miss Lodding’s companion easily enough. The number of her male acquaintances was not large, I understand.”
“That’s so. I’m off to question the sister. A Mrs Dalton. Bit rough on you, however.”
Bony reflected. He wanted to be generous to Crome, who now had the opportunity to regain lost prestige.
“Don’t worry about my end. Concentrate on your job. For several reasons I hope you clean it up quickly.”
Crome was pleased and left. Almost immediately Superintendent Pavier rang through.
“Any developments, Bonaparte?”
“Nothing, Super. But-”
“That’s all right. I’m going with Crome to visit Miss Lodding’s sister and dig into backgrounds. We must show Sydney this time.”
The Detective Office was vacant except for the man assigned to Bony under Abbot. He was asked to remove the paintings from the wall, and as he had been typing rather speedily, Bony asked if he could write shorthand. The detective said he could, and, having accepted the parcelled pictures, Bony told him to be at Goldspink’s shop at two o’clock.
At two, to the minute, Bony entered the shop and was met by Mrs Robinov.
“Everyone’s in the fitting-room, Inspector.”
He smiled his approval of such punctuality, and she conducted him to the fitting-room, where waited Mrs Wallace and Mrs Lucas, Mary Isaacs, Miss Way, Abbot with his assistant, and David Mills.
Bony thanked them for being present, and they were made to feel ‘awfully important’. He had the plainclothes man tack the pictures to a wall and then arranged the gathering as though children seated before a blackboard. Mills was placed at the cutting table and asked to prepare his materials.
“It is important that you are silent concerning this little session,” Bony began, “because I want to take you into my confidence and be able to discuss with you freely certain grave difficulties confronting me in unearthing this vile poisoner.
“Now look at these pictures so ably painted by Mr Mills. These three to the left represent the woman who was present shortly before Mr Goldspink died, and these two on the right represent the woman present in the hotel lounge to within a few minutes of the death of Mr Gromberg.
“We know that neither Mrs Robinov, Miss Isaacs, nor Miss Way can see in the picture of the lounge woman the woman they saw in the shop, and although two women could have carried the same handbag, the circumstances are such as to make us certain that one woman committed both crimes.
“This woman is clever. She isn’t a novice. She doesn’t make mistakes, and she did not make the great mistake of adopting a disguise after committing a crime, but before she committed it.
“At once divest your minds of the picture of a woman wearing a false wig and dark glasses and the uniform of a nurse or something of the kind. When she came here to the shop she seemed to be elderly, she had a stoop, and she used her eyes as though by habit peering over glasses. That is the impression she gave Miss Isaacs and, in lesser degree, Miss Way. When she went to the hotel lounge she appeared very much younger, did not peer as though over glasses, didn’t have a stoop, and wore clothes suitable for a woman of, say, thirty. With reason, therefore, we may assess her real age at from forty to forty-five.
“There is the remote possibility that the person seen by you ladies is a man disguised as a woman. We must take into account that there have been and are extremely clever female impersonators both on the stage and off, and before we proceed let us settle that point. You, Mrs Wallace, do you think that the person who sat next you on Saturday afternoon could have been a man disguised as a woman?”
Mrs Wallace was most indignant. “Not a hope. I knowall the differences between a man and a woman.”
“What makes you so certain?” questioned the unabashed Bony.
“Because I’d soon smell the difference,” claimed Mrs Wallace, and Bony hastily changed the subject.
“We then reject the possibility that the person was a man disguised as a woman. Did the woman betray any evidence to you, Mrs Wallace, that she was short-sighted?”
“I’m sure there wasn’t anything wrong with her eyesight. I remember telling you that she fumbled with her purse, but that wasn’t short sightedness. Itmusta been because she was all steamed up to skittle old Gromberg, though I still say I never saw her do anything to his beer.”
“Then let us discuss the woman’s face. Her make-up, you say, was heavily applied. How near did Mr Mills paint the faces to what you remember of the woman’s make-up?”
“Pretty close, but not quite, Inspector.” Mrs Wallace became triumphant. “I remember the lipstick she had on.”
“She had on the wrong lipstick,” interposed Mrs Lucas.
“She did that,” Mrs Wallace agreed. “It didn’t give her anything.”
“Looked to me as if she was an amateur at putting her face on,” said Mrs Lucas, and again Mrs Wallace agreed.
“An amateur-or it could have been done purposely to achieve an amateurish effect,” Bony pointed out. “You said, Mrs Wallace, didn’t you, that the woman looked like an old maid who had ventured into-”
“Hell or a harem,” added Mrs Wallace. “If she wasn’t an old maid she acted pretty well, is what I say and what I think. I can tell ’emin spite of all their titivating.”
“How did she appear to you, Mrs Lucas?”
“I didn’t take that much notice, Inspector, but I’ve a sort of impression that Mrs Wallace is right.”
“Thank you. Well, now, because you two ladies remember that woman so clearly, and Miss Isaacs and Miss Way do not clearly remember the woman who visited the shop, we will discard these three pictures of her as and when she was served by Miss Isaacs.” He took the three paintings from the wall. “We have now only the two pictures of the woman seen in the lounge. Mrs Wallace, which of these two pictures is nearer your memory of the woman?”
“That one on the right, although the dress on her isn’t as good as in the other picture.”
“We will leave the dress for the moment. Mrs Lucas, which is your choice of pictures?”
“That one Mrs Wallace picked.”
“Good. We will now discard the left one,” and Bony removed it. “Now, Mr Mills, will you try to draw this woman’s head without make-up, and to your notion of what she would be like, say, at forty-five.”
David Mills took fifteen minutes. Bony produced cigarettes, and Abbot’s assistant rounded off his notes. Mrs Wallace began to discuss the suspect’s clothes and was asked to refrain. She was the first to be shown the new face.
“Pretty good,” was her verdict, “but the chin isn’t square enough, and the eyes ought to be a bit slanted down at the outside corners.”
“I’ll make the alterations easily enough,” volunteered Mills.
He took the draft sketch, and Mrs Wallace went to stand by him, saying:
“When you’ve done that, I’ll tell you just where to put in the wrinkles. Her makeup didn’t hide them from me.” Using an eraser, Mills swiftly went to work. “That’s good for the mouth. Yes, and good for the eyes too. Come and have a look, dearie.”
Mrs Lucas was drawn into conference, and both agreed that the result was ‘just it’.
“You’re a beaut, Mr Mills,” exclaimed the ex-barmaid. “You’ve got thelivin ’ image, hasn’t he, Mrs Lucas?”
Mrs Lucas agreed again with Mrs Wallace, and Bony handed the black and white drawing to Mrs Robinov, who said she didn’t know a woman like her. Mary Isaacs hesitated long enough for Bony to say:
“Don’t hurry.”
Finally Mary admitted defeat, and the cashier shook her head.
“We’ve done very well so far,” Bony said. “Now let us examine the pictured dress. How near are we at this stage, Mrs Wallace and Mrs Lucas?”
They both said that the dress was almost as they remembered it. It was light blue scattered with white blossoms, elbow-length sleeves and a full skirt.
“Did you notice the material?” asked Mrs Robinov.
“ ’Course I did,” countered Mrs Wallace. “I said she took it out of lavender. It was extra-heavy silk, the sort of stuff you haven’t been able to buy for about fifteen years.”
Mary exclaimed:
“Oh, Mrs Robinov! You remember-”
“I’ll fetch it-my wedding dress. I had it made in Harbin in 1926. It might be the same quality.”
Abbot looked alarmed. Bony remained placidly patient. Mrs Robinov hurried away, and the women questioned Mary Isaacs, their excitement making even Bony wonder. The dress was brought, displayed on the cutting table. It was off white, but the material had captured the heady sheen of the water lily.
“That’s it-let me touch it,” Mrs Wallace cried. “Oh, it’s gorgeous! Oh, how lovely, Mrs Robinov.”
“You say that you bought the material in Harbin,” Bony inserted.
“Yes. I’ve never seen such silk in Australia, Inspector.”
“There never was such material in Australia,” Mrs Wallace said with conviction. “If there’d been I’d have got some.”
Mrs Robinov tenderly folded the wedding frock in the mass of tissue paper and carried it away.
“It would seem, Mrs Wallace, that the woman in the blue silk frock at one time travelled beyond Australia,” Bony said suggestively.
“Don’t follow she did, Inspector. But someone who’s done a bit oftravellin ’ around has certainly brought back that material. All the best comes to the Hill, and that sort of stuff would have come too, if it was imported.”
“And we can say that Mr Mills’s pictured dress is near the reality?”
She and Mrs Lucas agreed that it was.
“Can we say the same of the handbag?”
Mary Isaacs led the chorus of approval.
“Thank you so much, ladies. You have all been extremely helpful. I’ll now run through the items which make up this woman’s description as seen in the hotel lounge. Age somewhere about forty-five. Height five feet ten or eleven inches. Walks without a stoop. Shape of face more square than oval. Eyes grey. Nose straight and slightly thick. Mouth wide and lips straight. And lastly, the hair. Your description of the hair, given to Mr Mills last night, is ‘hennaed’. Will you please explain that word?”
Mrs Lucas, who was thinking she had taken second place to Mrs Wallace, got in first.
“Henna is used to brighten the hair and make it look like red hair. But the woman’s hair wasn’t properly red. Just tinted.”
“Otherwise, dyed to appear what it isn’t?” questioned Bony, and Mrs Wallace giggled.
“Two out of every three women do something like that to their hair,” she said, and looked almost affectionately at Mrs Robinov, who brought in afternoon tea. She called Mrs Robinov ‘luv’ and ‘dearie’ and thoroughly enjoyed herself. And Bony, well pleased, walked with Abbot back to Headquarters.
“Seems that we’ve got something at last,” Abbot said. “We should be able to find that woman now.”
“Should!” echoed Bony. “We shall!”