Inspector Bonaparte to Jimmy Nimmo
AT THE time Mrs Goddard boarded a tram in Argent Street, Mary Isaacs was following a woman carrying a well-remembered handbag. Superficially that proved that Mrs Goddard was not the woman seen and followed to the hotel by Mary Isaacs, and had it not been for the doubt in the mind of Mrs Wallace after meeting Mrs Goddard, and for the resemblance to Mrs Goddard, Luke Pavier saw in Mills’s picture done under the supervision of both Mrs Wallace and Mrs Lucas, Bony might have been satisfied.
He telephoned for Jimmy Nimmo, and within half an hour Jimmy was seated before his desk.
“There are people named Goddard, man and wife, no family, in business at Number 1 Willow Street, South Broken Hill. You don’t happen to know them or of them?”
“Of them, yes,” replied Jimmy. “They run a grocery store and fuel yard. House behind the store. Big wood-yard. Every Saturday night they come to town to go to the pictures, leaving two lights on in the house to bluff poor innocent burglars.”
“Ah! You have surveyed the scene, it would appear.”
“Had it mapped out before luck wiped me.”
“When was that, Jimmy?”
“When we met down Argent Street.”
“Come now, don’t be so unkind,” Bony objected. “You have on several occasions referred to the ‘attraction’. Surely that was not brought about by lack of luck.”
“It comes into it,” protested Jimmy. “I’m getting married some time soon, and I’ll have to retire to keep the peace. Couldn’t bear to be in the jug and anotherfella taking my missus around. Womenoughta have a man handy to keep them straight.”
“Too bad, Jimmy. Because I want you to undertake a little burglary for me. Being Saturday, I want you to enter Number 1 Willow Street and search for a navy-blue handbag with red drawstrings, a baby’s dummy, and a quantity of cyanide. I shall be working here late tonight to receive your report before going off to bed.”
“Supposin’ I get pinched? All me good intentions gone west, and married love done in the eye.”
“You won’t be pinched-unless you should disobey my orders by lifting money or some article of negotiable value. You will be working for me, Jimmy, and I am the police.”
“Well, can I tell me wench I’mworkin ’ for the police-meaning you? I got to square off for not taking her to the pictures.”
“Can she keep a secret?”
“Good as I can. Not the sort to let her right know what her left’s doing-like me.”
“Very well. That’s agreed. I’ll see that you are not apprehended, but you will take as much care in entering and leaving as though ten policemen were on the lookout for you.”
“Righto! I’ll beseein ’ you.”
Bony went along to Crome’s room, where he asked for the file on Tuttaway, and mentioned that it would be helpful of Inspector Hobson if between 8 and 11 pm his man on patrol in the vicinity of Willow Street would not approach Number 1. Crome said he would fix it.
“Any line on Tuttaway, sir?” he asked, presenting the required file.
“Afraid not,” replied Bony. “I think he may be walking about Broken Hill in the complete freedom of a perfect disguise. What are you doing this morning?”
“I’m taking out those three trackers to have another look around for the haft of that glass knife.”
“Good! I won’t detain you.”
Bony took the file back to his room. It was fairly sketchy before the crime for which Tuttaway had been imprisoned, giving date of birth and biographical details of his career. The medical history was equally vague prior to the conviction, and this pre-trial information had been supplied by London.
Tuttaway was the second of a family of four sons and four daughters. Two sons had taken over their father’s business, and one had subsequently suicided. Of the four daughters, one had married a minister, another an artist, yet another had married an architect and within a year had to be certified. The remaining daughter had been associated with the magician brother. All theTuttaways had inherited much money.
Bony regarded the picture taken by the prison authorities. It was a strange face, the tottering mind emphasising and revealing. Nobility and evil, ruthlessness and generosity, humour and arrogance. Being an actor, a showman, a man controlled utterly by his own egotism, Tuttaway’s greatest enemy was Tuttaway. He must have occupied a place, great or small, in the life of the woman he murdered. She must have known him at some period of her life prior to coming to Broken Hill or leaving England. That must be it: prior to leaving England in June