Bony Instructs Headquarters
SERGEANT MORRIS arrived during the afternoon, the fight and its tragic result having been reported to him over the telephone by Jeff Stanton. He walked into the kitchen about four o’clock after he had been given tea and scones by Marion on the big house veranda. Bony was preparing the dinner, and neither he nor the sergeant spoke until both were assured that no one was by to see or hear.
“Good day, Bony,” the policeman said in greeting, with far less than the habitual gruffness he used to people whom he considered his social inferiors. “Cooking, eh?”
“I shall be glad when Jeff gets a cook, for I am becoming tired of cooking.”
“The cooking didn’t prevent your attendance at the dog-fight this morning, I am told.”
“Alas! Man, after all, is a brute beast,”sighed Bony. “Nevertheless, I was entertained and thrilled.”
“Humph!” Sergeant Morris looked as though he did not quite approve. “Anyway, as you were a witness, tell me all about it.”
“I believe I saw you talking to Jack Withers,” Bony remarked blandly.
“Yes. I got his statement.”
“Then why in the world, my dear Morris, do you attempt to waste my time?”
“Well, I want a corroborative statement from you. You and Withers appear to be the only witnesses of the affair from first to last.”
“In that case, send me a copy of Withers’s statement, and I’ll sign it as my own. Yes, yes! I know you are a senior police official, and stuffed full of red tape, but Ludbi’s death was the result of a tribal affray, and not murder, and therefore nothing for us to worry about. Have you got the report concerning Marks?”
“Yes. How is the case going?”
“According to plan, Morris. It proceeds unhurriedly to its destined end.”
“And you still believe it was murder?”
“Decidedly. I know it was murder.”
“You do? Who did it?”
Bony smiled provokingly, and said: “As yet I do not know the identity of the killer. When I do, it will be a most difficult matter to prove.”
“Why?”
“I will explain,” Bony answered, rolling out a slab of dough with which to cover a large meat pie. “As I once told you, nine hundred and ninety-nine cases of murder out of every thousand are affairs of the utmost simplicity. The body of a human being is discovered, either whole, as was the body of the victim ofMilsom and Fowler and kindred cases, or in pieces, as were the victims of the romanticCrippen, the money-loving Mahon, and the atrocious Landru. It has been said by people of great intelligence that the human body is one of the most difficult objects to destroy completely. Landru, the French bluebeard, came very near to success. Deeming utterly failed.
“Why it should be considered that a human body is difficult to destroy, and why murderers, who in their normal state are thinking, reasoning beings, should make such blundering failures of their attempts, has, to me, always been a source of amazement.”
“You, then, could succeed in completely destroying a body?” Morris said, with sceptically raised brows.
“Man, I could completely destroy a body in six quite different ways. It is really simple.”
“How? Describe the methods.”
“How can you, my dear Sergeant?” Bony evaded, with gentle reproof.
“All right! If you won’t tell, don’t.”
“If I did tell you, Morris, you might start at once removing your enemies,” the detective laughed.
The half-caste finished his pie-making by decorating the edges of the pastry crust with a fearsome butcher’s knife. Observing Morris watching the knife, Bony smiled queerly and turned back to place the pie in the oven. Then he added wood to the fire, pushed in a damper, examined the contents of several pots, and finally filled two tin pint pannikins with tea, and put them on the table.
“Have a sip of real China tea,” he urged Morris.
“China tea?”
“Yes, China tea! Made by the Chinamen in our great cities. They collect the tea-leaves from the hotels and restaurants, take them home, dry them over a stove, and sell them to those provision merchants who supply squatters with rations for the poor station-hands. I believe the wholesale price is somewhere about one pound per ton. The profit must be enormous. Now, please, the report.” Morris handed it to him, and sipped in silence whilst Bony read.
“William Green, born 10 February, 1878, at Louth, River Darling, N.S. W. Educated State schools, Louth and Parkes. Passed intoN.S. W. Police Force 9 Oct., 1907. First station, Wilcannia. Second, Sydney Central…”And so on, until:“Resigned to joinA.I. F. Served withA.F. A . at Anzac and 5th Division in France. Decorated M.M. 2 June, 1916. Promoted commission rank 19 June, 1917. Received head wound about 22 September, 1917. DischargedA.I. F. 17 January, 1919. RejoinedN.S. W. Police Force 18 November, 1919. Transferred Licensing Branch May