Simpson’s Superior
“You going to nail Simpson for killing the old guy?” Shannon asked, when he was eating damper bread and a tin of pork and beans and Bony was sipping his third pannikin of tea, laced with brandy.
“No. I must know Simpson’s motive for moving the body. It must be a tremendously powerful one and so remarkable that I am unable even to theorise about it. However, Simpson is continuing to make a pattern, and he must be permitted to go on making the pattern until the motive appears in it.”
“Show me the pattern, and eat a slice of this damn fine bread to sort of soak up the brandy you’re tearing into you.”
“The suggestion is sound. Thank you. The pattern, yes. It begins that morning the two girls left the hotel. Simpson made sure that Ferris was with him when the girls left and that subsequently he was observed repairing the garage. He made sure it was on record that he stood by Price’s car and talked with him just when he was leaving. He probably murdered O’Brien when his mother and sister were absent on holiday and his old father was incapable of keeping him under observation. He was absent when his city henchmen arrived and insulted the lady artist. He was absent when his henchmen attempted to assault me. We don’t, of course, know what his plan was with reference to yourself, but I believe it would have conformed to the general plan of providing himself with an alibi.”
“You think he was intending to have me done in?” Shannon asked.
“Don’t you?”
“I reckon-by his pals at Baden Park.”
“But not, I think, by the owners of Baden Park. In fact, I cannot believe that he telephoned for those men who came over that night-until and unless I have much stronger evidence. Now answer me this: Was anyone present when Simpson told youyou would have to leave?”
“Yes, the old man.”
“Then he told you that you could stay that night and go in the morning. After that he withdrew to play the organ, having no design upon you, as he had not given himself time to plan an alibi and arrange for you to be dealt witha la the detective. He did speak with Baden Park and learned that three of the men were coming over for the evening. They arrived when you were about to leave. He couldn’t stop you. With some tale or other that you had gone off with the petty cash, or had insulted Ferris, or something else, he induced them to give chase, to find out which road you had taken from the junction. And on his return he telephoned a pal in Dunkeld to report on what you did, just to be sure you had or had not left the district.
“He was informed that you purchased provisions and a quart-pot and that you came this way on leaving Dunkeld. He recalled that you had done quite a lot of bush walking and that he had seen your tracks in the vicinity where he had buried O’Brien.
“I’ve no doubt that he did have a plan to do you in, as you say, and he acted a little too hastily in telling you to leave, in the first place, and in the second you declined to accept his invitation to remain until the next day. Those two causes produce a fault in the plan showing that Simpson, in all previous instances, had a perfect alibi.”
“H’m!” Shannon grunted, lighting a cigarette. “You reckon he done like Pausta advise me and the kid brother never to do; get drunk or chase the girls in the old home town, that being bad for respectability?”
“That, I think, circumscribes the idea,” Bony said, smiling for the first time that morning. “Old Simpson mentioned to me that there are hard doers, or dangerous men, in this country. Some of them might well be among the stockmen at Baden Park, but it isn’t logical to include with them Mr. Carl Benson, the owner of the very valuable Baden Park Station and all its golden fleeces. Our interest must lie in and about the hotel, and in Simpson and his associates, or those of them desperate enough to commit murder.”
“Then why that mighty fine fence around Baden Park?” asked the American.
“The fence is a legitimate insurance against the theft of valuable animals and the depredations of wild dogs. The electrically-controlled gate is quite a good idea, because people will leave gates open, no matter how the pastoralist might plead or command with a notice affixed to his gates. Are you sure that, having found the body of O’Brien, you obliterated all the signs?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Simpson, remember, was born and reared in this country. He is a bushman, and it is therefore certain that he saw your tracks, plainly indicating that you had often been in this locality, and possibly was so informed of your entry into that mound of rocks. When he discharged you and then wanted you to remain until the next morning, either a plan concerning you went wrong or he’s far from sure that you discovered anything of significance. In this particular instance he acted out of character, and that is a point which will require attention.
“We do know that Simpson has removed an illegally-buried body. We can assume that Simpson murdered O’Brien. We are entitled to assume that the murder of O’Brien is a natural corollary of the murder of Detective Price and/or the murder of those two young women. But assumption is as far as we can go. Pricecould have been killed by a criminal whom he recognised. The girls could remain undiscovered for years, if ever found.”
“Getting yourself all tied up, aren’t you?” Shannon cut in, the corners of his mouth hinting at grim humour.
“No,” Bony replied. “I am merely proceeding with caution to avoid the possibility of taking a wrong track and thus wasting time. You are inclined to think that that party of men from Baden Park were sent for by Simpson. We must remember that previously Simpson sent to Melbourne for his thugs to persuade a lady artist and myself to leave the hotel.”
“But this time his plug-uglies are in the hands of the cops,” countered Shannon.
“Doubtless he could have arranged for others. Anyway, we are not progressing, and there is Simpson to follow and establish what he has done with the body. When your girl set out on the trip through these mountains she was wearing a hair-clip set with red brilliants. Did you know that?”
“Yes. I gave her the ornament.”
“I found a red brilliant within a few minutes of finding the piece of stone with the gold in it.”
Shannon’s blue eyes opened wide for a moment and then contracted.
“Is that so?” he said very slowly.
“I found it where a car had been turned on the area of quartz. It could have been waiting for those girls. During a struggle the trinket could have fallen from the girl’s head and been trampled upon. The trinket could have been picked up and the brilliant from it not noticed.”
“Have you got the brilliant with you?”
“No. It’s in safe hands. I think, Shannon, it would be wise for you to continue searching for traces of those two girls, and I will continue my investigation into the motives and actions of Simpson. If you will do that and promise not to take the law into your own hands, we will progress much better. We will leave our swags here, concealing them with scrub, and we could meet here again late this evening to make camp and compare notes.”
“Okeydoke. Let’s act.”
Eventually, the swags were hidden among a nest of rocks at the foot of the range, and when returning to the creek to pick up the tracks of the dray, Bony pointed out the tracks left by the American.
“Pretty hard for an ordinary guy to trail a man through this country,” countered Shannon, and not for the first time revealing a stubborn streak.
“Good Australian bushmen are not ordinary guys, Shannon. Australian aborigines are super-extraordinary guys. However, we are fortunate that there are no aborigines in this district-so far as I know. Well, now, I’m going after that dray. We’ll act independently. Meet you tonight.”
Shannon nodded agreement a trifle too casually to satisfy Bony and at once proceeded to demonstrate his bushcraft by disappearing into the scrub. Bony went forward, keeping roughly parallel with the dray’s tracks, for him broken bush and scrub being a clear guide.
It was quickly evident that Simpson had not led the horse towards the hotel, but had skirted the foot of the range, reaching the elbow of the side track where it left the vineyard, and then, on that track, had passed through the white gates he had left open. Keeping wide of the track, Bony found the horse and dray standing on a small cleared space, and the licensee sitting with his back against a stack of some six tons of cut firewood.
Bony concealed himself in a patch of low bush at the edge of the clearing, and he, too, made himself comfortable, envying Simpson his opportunity to smoke. He had seen and heard nothing of Shannon.
The stack of wood was significant and confronted Bony with a problem. Should he prevent the destruction by fire of the yardman’s remains? Where lay his duty? If the body was destroyed by all that wood, what then? Fire does not completely destroy a human body. Thecalcined bones remain among the ashes, and teeth, natural or artificial, and such items as metal buttons and boot nails.
Because he felt that O’Brien’s murder was the outcome of others, because he felt that through Simpson and his crime he would penetrate the mystery covering the fate of the, two girls, he decided again to lie low, like Br’er Rabbit.
A full hour passed, and he was fighting off sleep and yawning for a cigarette, when he heard the sound of horse’s hooves coming down the road from Baden Park. Simpson did not budge, although he must have heard the approaching horseman. He did not rise until the horseman reined off the road and dismounted beside the dray.
The rider was tall and lean and slightly grizzled. Bony had seen him twice before, seated with a woman in a magnificent Rolls-Royce.