"Venom House" - читать интересную книгу автора (Upfield Arthur W.)

Chapter Three

Dr Lofty’s Views

“BEFOREWECONTACTyour Dr Lofty, tell me about the first murder,” requested Bony. “Take your time. Begin with the victim’s early background, his history. More often than not, homicide is the climax of a story beginning years prior to the act.”

“When I came out here eight years ago,” Mawson said after thought, “Edward Carlow was nineteen years of age and worked for his father, a farmer. The old man was never much good, and when I’d been here two years his drinking habit reached a climax and he left the family dead broke. Beside Edward, there was his mother and his young brother, Alfred, still at school.

“When the old man dropped out, the owners of the farm decided to find another tenant. The rent hadn’t been paid for years. The owners were these Answerths, who were influenced by their local business agent named Harston. Harston, by the way, is our deputy coroner.

“I never got to the real rights of that farm matter, but it seems that Miss Mary was with the business agent all the way, Miss Janet being against throwing the Carlows out and all for giving Edward Carlow the chance to succeed. I’m still not certain, mind you, but it seems that Miss Janet put Edward Carlow into a butcher’s shop here in Edison and found a house for the family close by.

“In those days, Edward Carlow was big and dark and handsome. Although he’d worked on the land he wasn’t dumb, and it’s been said that his mother gave him a better education than he’d have had at the local school. Anyway, Miss Janet took the wheel and started him off in the butchering line. Edison badly needed a good butcher, and Carlow never looked back. Began deliveries with an old truck and within a year was delivering with a smart new van.

“They left the house Miss Janet found for them for a better one Edward Carlow bought. There was new furniture, too, and Alfred was sent to finish his schooling in Brisbane. The business certainly flourished.”

Constable Mawson paused to light his pipe and hesitated to proceed. Receiving no comment from Bony, he went on:

“A little more than three years ago, a farmer reported the loss of steers. Then another man reported that the number of his sheep was down by thirty. While I was making enquiries about the sheep, they were found on virgin country, and there’s a lot of it in spots. Finding these sheep sort of put a question to the loss of the steers, for they also could have taken to the scrub and remained lost.

“One day I was over towards Manton delivering a summons when I chanced to meet the Forest Ranger. As it was near midday, we boiled the billy and had lunch together, and during the yabber he mentioned that several farmers and one or two sheepmen had asked him about stock which had got away.

“That made me thinka bit. You know how it is in a district like this. The local butcher is alwayssuspect when stock goes missing, and more often than not isn’t to blame. I began to look at Edward Carlow. By now he was softer than when he’d been on the farm. He was drinking at the pub, and doing a bit of betting.

“So we come to June of this winter. The Forest Ranger reported that he’d found evidence of possums having been trapped. As you know, this year’s fur prices have been very high. Also, possums are protected. The Ranger had his eye on a timber cutter named Henry Foster, and we agreed that Henry Foster could be the illegal trapper and that Edward Carlow could be the skin buyer from Foster. Could be, mind you. We had no proof.

“My ideas about Carlow’s prosperity were firmed a lot when his empty van was found parked in the scrub near that old logging stage where you met me and Miss Answerth this afternoon. How come that that van was concealed by the scrub when Carlow’s body was a mile away in Answerth’s Folly?

“Carlow was last seen about five p.m. on August 1st. He was then driving out of town, Mrs Carlow saying that he was going to Manton, where he was courtin’ a woman. She couldn’t tell us the name of this woman, and we couldn’t locate her. I believe she was truthful about it, that Edward told her a yarn about courting a girl.

“The next day, shortly after eleven in the morning, Carlow’s body was discovered by a feller named Blaze, the men’s cook out there. It was by the merest chance, too. The cook shot a duck and when wading out to get the bird actually kicked against the submerged body.

“The van wasn’t found until the following day when we began examining every off track from the track to Manton. It was well concealed by the scrub, and finding the van was chancy because, during the night Carlow was murdered, it rained heavily and tyre tracks were scarce. That afternoon, Inspector Stanley and Detective Jones arrived from Brisbane and took over.”

“You had then questioned the cook and the Answerth stockmen?” Bony probed.

“Blaze, the cook, yes. There were no men in camp the night Carlow was murdered. Excepting the cook, the only man employed at that time was the head stockman. The shearing was over and the sheep put into the spring pastures, and so work was slack. The head stockman was on the booze here in Edison. Feller by the name of Robin Foster.”

“Same name as the wood cutter.”

“Yes. Henry Foster’s brother.”

“How did the cook come out of it?”

“Seemed to me he came out square. Only a weed of a man, and elderly into the bargain. Carlow was a big man and could have defended himself easily against a man like Blaze. According to medical evidence…”

“We will leave that to Dr Lofty,” Bony interposed. “Contact him now, and ask him to come and yabber… the word being yours.” Lofty was telephoned, and Bony then asked:

“Is the man Blaze still cooking for the Answerth men?”

“Yes. Been there a very long time. Used to be head stockman. Turned to cooking when age fastened on to him.”

“You examined the van belonging to Edward Carlow?”

“Too right. There were several cut-open sacks in it and a light tarpaulin. Obviously last used to transport meat. Remembering the possum query, I examined the inside of the van pretty thoroughly. Not a single possum hair in it. I did find evidence that coke had been loaded, and subsequently established that Carlow had brought a load of coke from Manton for use at his home.”

“Did youmentioned the Forest Ranger’s suspicions concerning the possum-trapping to Inspector Stanley?”

“No… o.”

“Why not?”

“What we thought about that possum angle was just surmise,” replied Mawson before giving the correct reason. “Beside, the Inspector didn’t want co-operation.”

“Still, had you mentioned the matter, Stanley would have had experts sent down from Headquarters to examine the van with meticulous thoroughness. The possum point is important, and I thank you for drawing my attention to it. Where’s the van now?”

“With Mrs Carlow. She took over the butchering business. Alfred does most of the shop work and uses the van to transport carcases to the shop from the slaughter yard. As I said, they employ a man to slaughter for them. Ed Carlow used to do his own slaughtering.”

“The slaughter-man… character?”

“Local farmer. Good character. Has an alibi no one could bust.”

“What about the timber cutter… Foster?”

“Said he was in camp all that night. Couldn’t shake him. But… His camp is within three miles of the logging stage.”

Bony made another of his cigarettes. Years of practice had not brought skill to his fingers, and his fingers remained careless if tenacious in following one pattern. Every cigarette bulged in the middle and dwindled to a point at either end.

“You have given your facts, Mawson,” he said presently. “Now give your opinions. First, why was Carlow murdered?”

“Personal opinions, mind. Because he owed money for carcases to a cattle or sheep lifter, or owed money for skins to a possum trapper. He tried to put it over a man who would not stand for it.”

“Sound,” Bony murmured. “Who murdered Edward Carlow?” Mawson slowly shook his head, saying:

“Wouldn’t care to guess.”

“We’ll find out. Sounds like the doctor arriving. Howd’you get along with him?”

“All right. Good man with babies, they say. Co-operative with us. Done a lot to get the local hospital on its feet.”

Mawson rose and crossed to open the door. He was there a half-minute before welcoming Dr Lofty, and when the doctor entered Bony was ready to receive him. Lofty had the physical appearance of a jockey, the eyes of a hypnotist, the voice of seduction. Mawson’s introduction of Bony produced momentary shock, followed by keen interest.

“A privilege, Inspector!” he drawled, and produced a foolscap envelope which he dropped upon the desk.

“Good of you to come round,” murmured Bony, and they all sat.“Your P.M. report? Thank you. Before we discuss it, I would be obliged did you concentrate on your post mortem on the body of Edward Carlow. I’ve had small opportunity to study that case as presented by my Department’s Official Summary and other data. The scene at least is common with this last crime.”

“As you say, Inspector, the scene is the same in both murders,” agreed Lofty. “One was drowned, the other strangled. One had put up a fight forlife, the other hadn’t been given even that chance.”

“We begin, Doctor,” Bony said. “You knew Edward Carlow when alive, of course?”

“Yes.”

“Was he ever your patient?”

“On several occasions. For minor causes. Accidents. The man was a perfect specimen… until he took to drink. At the time of his death the liver was spotted, one kidney was diseased, and he was unhealthily fat. Still, he would have lived for years. My grandfather drank three bottles of whisky every day during the last four years of his life, which ended at a hundred and two. I wanted to look inside him, but the relations wouldn’t have it. Most interesting old chap.”

“You like post mortem work?”

“Love it.”

The little man’s black eyes were bright with laughter. He made himself comfortable on the straight-backed kitchen chair and smoked a cheroot with enjoyment.

“Edward Carlow, I understand, was forcibly drowned. Taking into account his diseased kidney and spotted liver, what kind of man, physically, must the murderer be?”

“A man who could take either you or me between his forefinger and thumb and pinch us in two separate parts, and then sit on each part and flatten it to mere parchment.”

Bony was not amused by being thus associated with the wispy, skinny little doctor. He said:

“Carlow’s body bore evidence of a fierce struggle?”

“It surely did. There were patches of ecchymosis all over him. He fought for his life in the shallow water of Answerth’s Folly, or he was first struck unconscious and then dragged into the water. Mud and weed from the bottom of the Folly were embedded under the fingernails, and weed and organisms were found in the water taken into the lungs and stomach. There were, of course, all the other appearances of drowning.”

“D’youknow if he could swim?”

“For years he was the beach guard at our annual aquatic sports,” Dr Lofty said slowly. “There’s no possible doubt that Carlow was forcibly held under water until he was dead.”

“How long, in your opinion, was the body submerged?”

“Eight to twelve hours.”

“Assuming that the body had not been found until it rose to the surface normally, do you think a superficial examination would have disclosed the fact that the dead man had fought desperately before drowning?”

“Are you thinking that the murderer, being unaware of his victim’s injuries, calculated that the superficial injuries would not be evident after the body had been submerged for several days? That he hoped the coroner’s verdict would be death by misadventure?”

“Yes, along that line, Doctor. It’s possible, is it not?”

“Quite.”

“Therefore, the murderer knew something of pathology?”

“He could have learned that much from a medical textbook, but more likely from a published report of an inquest. I’ve read in the newspapers two such reports this last twelve-month. There’s no proof, though, that the murderer intended this.”

“But he drowned the man when he could have killed him with his hands about his throat, or with a stick or a stone.”

“If he wasn’t himself played out by the struggle and had strength only to hold his victim under water.”

“Let us pass to the death of Mrs Answerth. How old was she?”

“Sixty-nine.”

“Therefore, frail?”

“Yes and no, Inspector. Mrs Answerth had always led a very active life. Up to the time of death, she grew the vegetables in the garden about the house, and attended to the fowls and ducks. She suffered slightly from lumbago, but her heart and lungs were sound. When I last saw her, and that was two years ago, she walked upright and her mind was unimpaired.”

“She was not drowned, I think.”

“She was strangled with rough cord or light rope. The mark of the ligature was quite plain. She was dead when her body entered the water. I believe death was very rapid, and that death was due to asphyxia rather than to shock. There was but little mucus froth and no water in the lungs.

“The body was fully clothed,” the doctor proceeded. “I found more weed adhering to the back of the head than to any other part of it. There was a quantity of weed pressed into the cavity between the neck and the back of the blouse, and there was much weed adhering to the calves of the worsted stockings. All that provides me with a picture. I can see the body being dragged through shallow water by the cord or rope with which the woman was strangled, and then, when the ligature had been removed, pushed out into deep water.”

“Where, it was thought, it would sink,” added Bony. “Assuming that the body had not floated, that it remained submerged till putrefaction brought it to the surface to be found and at once examined by you, what might have been the result?”

“It would be probable that the mark of the ligature had faded into the general slough of the skin, and also the internal appearance would be such as to indicate drowning. Assumption would point strongly to death by drowning, but in view of the Carlow drowning, assumption would not have been accepted.”

“H’m!” Bony smiled his thanks. “Do you remember, Doctor, or you, Mawson, whether during the inquest on Carlow anything was said of the specific gravity of the body?”

“Yes,” promptly replied Lofty. “Old Harston… he’s the coroner, you know… asked me if it wasn’t a fact that the specific gravity of a fat man, like Carlow, was much lighter than that of the body of a lean man.”

“He wanted to know if the body was weighted with anything which submerged it,” added Mawson.

“And I had to give a lecture on the subject,” Lofty continued.

“Mrs Answerth was not a fat woman, was she?” inquired Bony.

“No, she was tall and gaunt. She had no more fat than I have,” answered the doctor.

“And therefore her murderer possibly thought it certain that her body would sink and remain submerged for days.” Bony stood. “The body of the next victim disposed of in Answerth’s Folly will be efficiently weighted.”

Dr Lofty stubbed the butt of his cheroot and rose from his chair.

“Pleasant prospect,” he drawled, and Bony decided that the accent had been cultivated. “You know, Inspector, another asphyxia case will bore me. Arrange that the next one is by bullet or bludgeon. Good night! Anything you want of me, don’t hesitate.”

Mawson accompanied him to the street gate. Bony studied the doctor’s excellent photographs of the cord mark round the dead woman’s neck. Voices drifted inward through the open doorway, and he looked up to see a tall, prosperous-looking man precede the constable into the office.