Death of a Lake b-18 Page 4

  The second horse proved more difficult, but the third was like the first, and finally Bony climbed the rails to sit beside the overseer, and roll a cigarette. No one spoke. Having applied a match to the smoke, Bony said:

  “You have a handy paddock for themokes?”

  “Yes. What do you think of them?”

  “Passable. I’d like the lot taken out to the paddock and yarded again this afternoon.”

  “Why?” asked Martyr. “You’ve got ’emfor the day, haven’t you?”

  “I want them to become used to yarding without rebellion. I want them to become so accustomed to these yards that they will never give trouble when being driven to any yard. And I want to handle them so that they will stand while I climb over them, under them, all round them. They have to be quiet before I ride them, because I’m no buck-jumper rider. I don’t break a horse, I train him.”

  “All right, if that’s the way you want it.”

  “Thanks. You might ask your riders to leave their whips behind. There’s too much noise, too much excitement. Later, I’ll get them used to a whip cracking against their ears.”

  Martyr ordered Carney andMacLennon to return the youngsters to the paddock and to bring them to the yards again after lunch. Lester seemed inclined to remain, and was told to get on with his chores. Alone, Martyr said:

  “Haven’t seen you in this district before.”

  “First time I’ve been down this way. The Diamantina’s my country.”

  “Oh. Then why come?”

  Bony chuckled.

  “Woman trouble,” he said, and from Martyr’s nod knew he had been accepted.

  Chapter Five

  Below Surface

  ATTHECLOSEof his first week as horse-breaker, Bony knew he had successfully ‘edged’ himself into this small community, and further, he was confident that there were strange under-currents in this community, opposed to him and to two other men… KurtHelstrom and EarleWitlow.

  Helstrom, always addressed as Swede, was grey and tall and long-jawed. He had a strong sense of humour which he himself appreciated most and it made no impression upon his ebullient nature when others appreciated it not at all. He preferred the company of EarleWitlow to anyone else’s and it appeared thatWitlow liked the Swede. Witlow, much younger, looked much older, for he was a sun-dried raisin of a man who spoke but rarely to anyone other thanHelstrom.

  The others, that is Lester, Carney andMacLennon, for the two aboriginal stockmen were quite apart, while not openly hostile to each other were bound by an invisible cord which would have been accepted by anyone less intuitive than Bony as the clannishness of old employees.

  Witlowhad been employed atPorchester Station for four years, but at Lake Otway for only the last seven months, and the Swede had been put on the pay-roll eight months back. Neither had been at Lake Otway when Ray Gillen came, or when Gillen was drowned. Lester had been working onPorchester for fifteen years and he had gone to the city every year for a spell, but not after Gillen had come to Lake Otway. MacLennon’s service had begun three years ago, and Carney had ridden paddocks about Sandy Well for two years before being transferred to the out-station shortly after Lake Otway had been born.

  Lester andMacLennon and Carney had been working here when Gillen vanished that moonlit night. That was fifteen months back, and not one of them had left the place for a spell since then. One man of several working under such conditions of isolation might decide not to take a spell, his ambition to knock up a good cheque, but it was rare enough to be an oddity for three men to work more than a year without a holiday.

  The same tag applied to the Fowler women. They had come to Lake Otway shortly after its birth and had remained ever since without once leaving the out-station. Like the men, they bought their clothes per mail-order, but, being women, it was a trifle odd how they had so long resisted the shops.

  There was another matter to spur speculation. The two women, the three men and Barby, the cook, were much more concerned by the coming death of Lake Otway than seemed normal, certainly more so thanWitlow and the Swede, and when Bony coloured the known facts concerning Gillen with impressions gained during this first week breaking horses he felt that the death of Lake Otway could coincide with the climax of a drama which began when Raymond Gillen came.

  He had had no further opportunity to probe RedDraffin, asDraffin had returned to the main homestead the day after he brought Bony and the load to the Lake. Draffin had certainly voiced suspicions, but it had been to a casual worker who would not long remain, concerning especially the suitcase and contents belonging to the vanished Gillen. In view of the fact that it was officially believed that Gillen possessed twelve thousand odd pounds in notes of low denominations. Draffin’s remarks about the ‘tide’ having ebbed in that suitcase appeared significant.

  As Bony had foreseen, this was not an investigation wherein he could bamboozle suspects with questions and hope to bring out the solution with the slickness of city detectives backed by willing informers. Actually he had but one problem: to establish Gillen’s fate, which, because of the non-location of twelve thousand pounds, cast grave doubt that the man’s fate had been accidental drowning.

  Seven people were here when Gillen vanished, and those seven people were still at Lake Otway, including George Barby, who was only twenty-six miles distant and who wanted to return for the trapping.

  Twelve thousand pounds is quite a sum. No bank held it in safe keeping, it being reasonable to assume that as Gillen came into possession of the money lawfully there would have been no cause for him to have banked the money in an assumed name. It was also reasonable to assume that Gillen would have done something about it had it been stolen from him. Thus, until proved otherwise, it must be assumed that Gillen arrived at Lake Otway with twelve thousand pounds ‘in the kip’.

  Twelve thousand pounds in notes of low denomination make up quite a parcel. A bank manager had demonstrated the size of the parcel to Bony before he left Brisbane, and that parcel could be the difference between the high and the low ‘tide’ noted by RedDraffin.

  Further, if one of the men had stolen the money from the suitcase when it was thought Gillen had drowned in the Lake, would that man have continued working at Lake Otway? Assuming so, then the reason for sticking to his job must indeed be extremely powerful.

  Yes, questions here and now would be out of order. A prodding perhaps, a good deal of listening and working out sums, plus the aid of the old ally, Time, would provide a break soon or late. His role was to be unobtrusive, subtly diplomatic, acceptable to all seven suspects.

  Seven suspects! The overseer, Martyr, was run-of-the-mill. Public school education… apprentice jackaroo… sub-overseer… undermanager. Next step up, manager. But that final step a very long step, indeed. Martyr knew how to handle men and, according to Mr Wallace, he was proficient in handling sheep and cattle. He was introspective, imaginative and ambitious.

  There was Bob Lester, uninhibited, nervy, earth -bound, with a wonderful memory for sporting details. MacLennon was restrained yet virile, slightly morose, determined, and could be dangerous. Carney was young, fearless, imaginative, well read, and not as well educated as he claimed to be. Barby was something of a mystery, conforming to no type. Well read, quietly observant, careful with his money and ambitious to make more.

  The women had to be considered, for either could have raided Gillen’s suitcase. The mother was still young and attractive, man-hungry and avid for conquest. Not the type to stay put for so long. The daughter was alluring and knew it. Bring her in contact with a good-looking and daring young man and a bush fire could start in the centre of Lake Otway. Or would the flame be kindled by twelve thousand pounds?

  It was after five in the afternoon that Bony actually came in contact with the hands, for they and Martyr had been engaged in moving several of the huge flocks of sheep from the back of the run to those paddocks around Sandy Well. Even Lester, the rouseabout, was called on to assist, so that during the day Bony was t
he only man about the place. He suffered but one hardship: to keep track of the lies he told, for the way of the liar is, indeed, hard.

  As is the custom, one of the women would tap the triangle with a bar to call him to morning smoko-tea and again in the afternoon. Lunch, which he took with them, was more formal. He was amused to find both mother and daughter piqued because he failed to progress according to their assessment of him.

  At morning and afternoon ‘smoko’ they talked intelligently of everything excepting Ray Gillen, to whom he never referred, but as the days slipped by their interest in the falling level of Lake Otway sharpened. At the close of that first week of Bony’s employment, the Lake fell by four inches.

  The men’s interest in the Lake was just as marked. Often they returned to the yards with only a few minutes in hand to wash before the dinner gong was struck, but always they scanned Lake Otway to note the imperceptible changes taking place. At this time of day, Bony was usually sitting in a broken arm-chair on the veranda of the quarters overlooking the Lake.

  Then came that late afternoon when the first sign of volcanic emotion surged above surface. Bony sensed that the beginning occurred before the men returned from work, before they came trudging across from the horse yards where they had freed their mounts to roll on the sand and take their fill at the trough.

  “I’m going in for breaking,” remarked Harry Carney when passing to his room. He was cheerful of voice, but anger lurked in his eyes.

  “Yair, better’n stock-ridin’, anyhow,” agreed Lester, and sniffled. “You justhypnotizes a youngster for an hour or two each morning, and then lays off all afternoon in a comfortable chair well in the shade, with a book oraddin ’ up the dough you’ve earned. Wonderful job.”

  MacLennon, stocky and powerful, said nothing. He stood at the end of the veranda looking down at the Lake, now as placid as a road puddle. Overseer Martyr appeared on the house veranda, also obviously interested in the Lake.

  “Been hot today,” Bony remarked. “Mrs Fowler said at lunch it was a hundred and two in the pepper-tree shade.”

  “Four hundred and two in the sun,” rumbledMacLennon. “I hate these windless days. Makes the flies real vicious.”

  He passed off to the shower, and the Swede came and laughed at Bony and asked how it felt to be a ‘cap’listfeller’-asked with the usual roar of laughter. Witlow merely grinned and went in for his towel.

  Presently Carney reappeared, cleaned and his fair hair slicked with water. He stood by Bony’s chair and rolled a smoke.

  “No mail out, I suppose?” he asked, gazing down at the Lake. Bony shook his head, and Carney added:“ ’Bout time someone brought it. Hell! The Lake looks like someone’s poured gold into it.”

  The gong thrummed through the heated evening air, and Bony took his old and tattered CharlesGarvice to his room. On coming out, he found Lester looking at Lake Otway, as Carney andMacLennon had done, and he called: “It will be still there after dinner.”

  “Yair, that’s so, Bony.” Lester joined him and they walked after the other two men.“Going down fast, though. Another four weeks will see her out.”

  “A pity.”

  “Yair. She was beaut up to last Christmas, and when she was full there was no need to go down to the seaside for a cool-off beer. Given a good wind the waves would come curling ina white surf, and at night you could hear it miles away. It never seemed hot in the paddocks, when you could come home to it.”

  “Have you seen this place when there’s no water?”

  “Too right. Just a flat all over, covered with bush rubbish. Blasted heat trap, too. Water comes into her every seventeen to twenty years, and then stays only for three years at most.”

  They ate without sustained conversation, what there was of it being carried on byWitlow and the Swede. They were, of course, tired from the heat and the burning sun and the pestiferous flies, but they seemed taciturn when a normal gang could have tossed chaff at each other. Only towards the end of the meal did one address Bony, and he was Lester, who inquired of his progress with a brown gelding. Bony was making his progress report when Joan Fowler came to the door leading to the kitchen and waved to Bony, saying:

  “Cards?”

  Bony rose and bowed.

  “At eight?”he said, smilingly.

  The girl laughed and disappeared. Bony sat down conscious of the hostility inMacLennon and Harry Carney. Witlow, the bow-legged, whimsicalWitlow, dryly chuckled, and his apparent friend, the Swede, jibed:

  “Youtink Bony been pawing the ground whileswe’s been working all day?”

  “Couldof been,” concededWitlow. “You can never trust these horse-breakers, Kurt.”

  “What you reckon?” asked the Swede, grinning at Bony. “Better for us to sit in on cards, too-just to make sure hekeep all right?”

  “Yair, better,” Lester put in. “Bony isn’t old enough to play cards with grownwimmen. He’d be fleeced for amonty.”

  “Perhaps I shall need a little support,” Bony laughingly agreed.

  MacLennoncrashed his eating utensils down on his plate, got up and left. In the silence, Lester sniffled, and Carney drawled:

  “You can cut out the fleecing idea, Bob. Sounds bad.”

  His round face was flushed and his eyes were void of the usual good humour. The Swede leered wickedly, opened his mouth to say something and shut it in pain whenWitlow kicked his ankle under the table.

  That was that, and it fell out that Bony andWitlow were the last to leave the annexe. When crossing back to the quarters, the little man murmured:

  “Keep your hair on, Bony. That Bitch likes to make trouble. You might be able to use yourself, but Mac’s an ex-ring champ.”

  “Thanks for the tip. I’ll tread lightly,” Bony said, and added: “There wouldn’t be anything in treading on other people’s toes here.”

  “Wise feller. They’re a funny mob. Best to let ’emcook in their own camp fire.”

  Bony chuckled, and they paused to look out over the Lake and at the sea-gulls that came winging in to land with the henswho were waiting to be fed.

  “Long way from the sea for the gulls,” Bony observed.

  “Five hundred miles from the nearest salt water at Port Augusta. It could be they’ve never seen the sea.”

  “Yes, that’s likely. Get the Swede to come in for cards. Safety in numbers, you know.”

  Bony pondered aboutWitlow, and decided he would ask this stockman a few questions.

  Chapter Six

  Fish and Fowl

  ATTHECLOSEof the first week Bony had his first horse far enough in training to he ridden outside the yard and sensible enough to be trusted to permit its rider to concentrate on matters having nothing to do with a sparkling young filly.

  Thus he gained freedom to examine Lake Otway, allegedly the scene of the death of Raymond Gillen. One morning he rode round the Lake, saw where the flood water had flowed into it at the northern end and where it had spilled over a sandbar into a creek at the southern end. He noted with interest the large area opposite the out-station taken over by pelicans for their hatchery and nursery, and where the swans had selected sites for their nests. Rabbits were everywhere in plague proportions, for the surrounding dunes and the slopes of the uplands outside the dunes were honeycombed with burrows. Often a ‘swarm’ of rabbits would dash ahead of him, and when he shouted they would burrow and he could see the sterns of animals at every hole, unable to get in for the crush. Everywhere, too, claiming every major shadow were kangaroos, and away up the slopes back of the dunes were black dots of countless emus.

  A paradise for fur trappers. A mighty harvest ready for the reaping, and soon to becalcined by the sun.

  Barby arrived one morning driving his utility loaded with camp gear and trapping equipment, his three dogs, two cats and the tame galah. The Boss had found another cook to relieve him, but had been unable to spare RedDraffin, and Barby had gone along the track to Johnson’s Well and farther round the Lake to begin operations.
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  The afternoon of that day found Bony interested in Ray Gillen’s motor-cycle. He had gone to the large machinery shed which housed the station trucks, machine parts and materials, in order to repair a girth buckle. The motor-cycle was completely covered by a tarpaulin, and the dust on the tarpaulin supported statements that the machine hadn’t been used or moved after Gillen vanished.

  Bony lifted the hem of the covering. It was obviously a powerful machine, and had been maintained in good order. Bony felt the tyres, and they were firm. About the cap of the petrol tank was a wide ring of dust darker than the rest, and Bony smelled petrol. He removed the cap, and found the tank was full to capacity. The tank had been filled some time during the past two weeks, and Bony was confident it must have been done during the week before he arrived at Lake Otway.

  He was sure that whoever had filled the tank and perhaps pumped air into the tyres had, likehimself, not wholly removed the tarpaulin. When he dropped the hem of the covering, the dust remained heavy on the level surface. All evidence indicated that the machine had not been moved since its owner vanished fifteen months ago, and yet someone had prepared it for a journey.

  Came the evening when he decided to takeWitlow partially into his confidence, and it happened that the wiry little stockman himself provided the opportunity. Dinner was over and the Swede had started a game of banker in the sitting-room of the quarters, and Bony joinedWitlow, who was darning a pair of socks on the veranda. Witlow lost interest in the socks and stood to wipe perspiration from his face.

  “What about taking a swim in the Lake?”

  “In two feet of water?” objected Bony.

  “Two feet six inches,” correctedWitlow. “Do a bit of wading. Splash about a bit. Cooler, anyway. Rux up the birds, too. Something to do.”

  “Yes, all right,” Bony assented. “As you say, it will be something to do.”

  Witlowchanged into a pair of shorts and Bony put on a pair of drill trousers needing to be washed, and in bare feet they descended the bluff steps to the ‘shore’ of the Lake and stepped into the water.