The Port Fairy Murders (29 page)

‘That’s quite a story, Miss Todd,’ Halloran said.

‘I thought I was doing the best thing. It’s a Greek tragedy, Inspector.’

NO ONE NOTICED
the photographer in the front garden of the house opposite Mrs Cuthbert’s house. He fired off half-a-dozen quick shots and hurried back to the offices of the
Port Fairy Gazette
. News of the events in James Street had spread quickly through the town. Some people locked their doors, with stories of what had happened varying from Selwyn Todd having gone on a rampage to a Japanese assassin having come ashore from a submarine in the night.

‘Constable Adams will take the first shift watching the house,’ Inspector Halloran said. ‘I want Miss Todd to stay put.’

The four police officers were walking back to the station.

‘What a bizarre and extraordinary story,’ Helen said.

‘Well done catching her out on the punctuation, Constable. That wouldn’t have occurred to me.’

‘It wouldn’t have occurred to me, either,’ Joe said.

‘You have to hand it her, she’s fast on her feet,’ Halloran said. ‘Was there a single thing about her story that was convincing, do you think?’

‘She was making it up as she went along,’ Joe said. ‘You could drive a truck through the holes in it.’

‘Let’s break this down into simple parts,’ Halloran said. ‘We’re certain Matthew Todd was killed sometime just before or after midnight, and that he wasn’t killed at Aggie Todd’s house. There was sand residue under his shoes, and there was no trace of it in Aggie’s front room. In other words, he didn’t walk into that room.’

‘So whoever killed him carried him there,’ Joe said.

‘Yes. Todd was a fit young man. It would have taken someone of equal or greater strength to strangle him. There’s no bruising on his body, no damage to his hands, and nothing under his fingernails. He was taken by surprise, from behind, and dispatched quickly. I’d say that Aggie Todd is not a suspect in the murder of her nephew. I’d say that pretty much eliminates Rose Abbot as well, despite Miss Todd’s view to the contrary.’

‘Unless she had an accomplice,’ said Joe.

‘And Miss Todd kindly offered us one, didn’t she? Rose’s husband, John Abbot.’

‘He hasn’t come into town?’ Helen asked.

‘Rose drove the truck into town this morning, so he wasn’t able to come in. Constable Manton is with him. Abbot runs a dairy farm, and the herd has to be milked. It’s tough on Abbot. Manton telephoned earlier to say that he was shattered. He’s our next port of call.’

‘So,’ said Helen, ‘we’re assuming that Matthew Todd was killed by a person or persons unknown. What about Rose Abbot? Is there any possibility that Selwyn Todd is responsible for her death? If he isn’t, it means that Aggie Todd is lying about having seen him do it. Why would she do that?’

‘Because she did it herself?’ Joe asked.

‘I reprimanded Constable Adams for dismissing her as a suspect,’ Halloran said, ‘yet I can’t see her wielding that shovel. And why? Why would she hit her own niece in the face with a shovel?’

At the police station, Constable Filan’s wife, Anne, had left a bowl of stew and vegetables for Selwyn. Constable Adams, who’d been given instructions to occasionally open the slot in the cell door and talk to Selwyn, had grown bored with the exercise. Selwyn never replied, so he left him alone — which was why he missed Selwyn’s signs that he needed the toilet. A pan had been left in the cell, but Selwyn had never used a pan. He grew distressed, and began to make a noise. By the time Constable Adams responded, the smell that assaulted his nose when he opened the slot told him that Selwyn had soiled himself.

When Inspector Halloran and the others entered the police station, they were met with the pleasant odours of mutton stew, which was sitting, covered with a cloth, on the front desk.

‘Constable Adams!’

Adams came in from the cell.

‘Why hasn’t that been taken out to the cells?’

‘I’m sorry, sir. Mrs Filan just delivered it. I was going to take it out, but the prisoner has had an accident.’

‘What kind of accident? You were supposed to be checking on him.’

‘I mean, he’s shat himself.’ He paused and added, ‘Sir.’

Halloran was livid.

‘He’d have signalled that he needed the toilet. Where were you?’

‘I was in here, sir. I didn’t hear him.’

‘This is completely unacceptable.’

For the second time that day, Helen felt sorry for Constable Adams. It was humiliating to be dressed down in front of other officers.

‘You’ll have to clean him up.’

Adams recoiled.

‘How?’ he said weakly.

‘I’ll help,’ said Paddy Filan. ‘There’s a hose in the yard. It’ll be the simplest solution. He’ll need another change of clothes.’

‘Perhaps Constable Adams can donate his uniform,’ Halloran snapped.

SELWYN KNEW THAT
he was in trouble. When two men came into the room, he began to whimper.

‘It’s all right, Selwyn,’ Paddy said. ‘We’re going outside again, into the yard.’

Constable Adams was holding his breath as he and Paddy put a hand under Selwyn’s arms and lifted him to his feet. Selwyn didn’t resist; he knew what would happen if he didn’t do what he was told. Outside, Paddy indicated that he wanted Selwyn to undress, while Fletcher Adams attached the hose to a tap. When Selwyn saw the hose, he began to shake, but he took his clothes off and stood with his eyes squeezed shut. His body was quivering. Paddy turned him gently around, and again saw the welts on Selwyn’s body.

‘Okay, Fletch, turn the hose on. Gently, gently.’

‘Christ, I hate this fucking job. Halloran fucking hates me, the pay is lousy, and here I am, hosing the shit off some fat fucking retard.’

Filan took the hose from Adams.

‘I’ll do it. You go back inside.’

This seemed to Paddy to be the best way of avoiding punching Fletcher Adams in the balls.

‘That suits me,’ Adams said. ‘I can’t wait to get back to Warrnambool.’

Halloran hadn’t had time to give Adams his instructions to watch Mrs Cuthbert’s house. Adams found a note to that effect beside the stew. He was to go to the house immediately, and someone would relieve him at midnight.

‘Fuck,’ he said. Before he left, he lifted the cloth off the stew and, using his fingers, picked out chunks of the meat. It was good, so he helped himself to some more. Selwyn’s meal was reduced to mainly potatoes and gravy and carrots, with a couple of small pieces of meat.

‘MR ABBOT, MY
name is Detective Inspector Greg Halloran, and this is Sergeant Joe Sable and Constable Helen Lord, from Homicide in Melbourne.’

John Abbot was sitting in the kitchen. His eyes were red, and he looked more than usually dishevelled.

‘We’re very sorry about your wife. We need to ask you some questions, if you feel up to it.’

Abbot nodded. The back door opened, and Johanna Scotney came into the kitchen. Her eyes, too, were red and puffy from crying.

‘Johanna works here,’ Abbot said dully. ‘I’ve told her she can go home.’

‘You can’t do the milking on your own, Mr Abbot. I’ll wait outside.’

‘No,’ Abbot said. ‘I’d like you to stay.’

Johanna was reluctant. Helen Lord said that it would be fine, that anything she could add might be valuable.

‘Some of these questions might be upsetting, Mr Abbot,’ Joe said. ‘We need as much information as we can get in order to find out who took your wife’s life.’

‘If I find out,’ Abbot said, ‘I’ll kill the cunt.’

‘What time this morning did Rose leave to go to her aunt’s house in Port Fairy?’

‘Stupidly early. The old battle axe telephoned at some ungodly hour, five o’clock or five-thirty, and told Rose that she had to hightail it over there.’

‘Miss Todd telephoned Rose?’

‘Yes. I picked up the phone and handed it on to Rosie as fast as I could. I didn’t want to talk to that bitch of a woman at that hour of the day.’

‘Do you know of anyone who might want to hurt Rose?’

‘What? No, of course not. It was that bloody simpleton they keep at the bottom of the garden, wasn’t it? People have been ringing here all day saying it was him.’

‘We don’t know for sure who killed your wife, Mr Abbot. I’m sorry I have to ask you this, but did you leave the farm at any time last night?’

Abbot stood up.

‘What kind of question is that?’

‘The kind that will help us eliminate you from our inquiries, Mr Abbot.’

‘Are you insinuating that I murdered my wife?’

Joe remained calm.

‘Rose wasn’t the only person murdered last night, Mr Abbot. Matthew Todd died several hours before Rose, so we need to know where you were and when you were there. Please, sit down.’

Abbot sat.

‘So, did you leave the farm at any time last night?’

‘No, I didn’t. We went to bed at the usual time — early. We have to get up to do the milking. Rosie can vouch for that. She was here with me all night.’

He realised what he’d said, and pulled hard at his ear in frustration. ‘Except that she can’t, can she?’

‘Do you know of anyone who might want to harm Matthew Todd?’

Helen noticed a slight widening of Johanna Scotney’s eyes, and the clenching of her fists.

‘I didn’t have any time for Matthew Todd,’ Abbot said. ‘He was a prick. He’d come out here and swan about like he owned the place. Oh, and that aunt hated me. I wasn’t good enough to marry a Todd. As it happens, Rosie thought I was plenty good enough.’

‘What was Rose’s relationship with her brother?’

‘So what are you saying now — that Rose killed Matthew?’

‘Mr Abbot, please. No one is accusing anyone of anything. All we’re trying to do is assemble as many pieces of the jigsaw as we can. Please don’t look for insinuations in the questions. If you could answer them as honestly as you can, that would be helpful.’

Abbot was sufficiently mollified to give his view of Rose’s relationship with both Matthew and Aggie Todd.

‘She was so much better than they were. They looked down on her, and it didn’t bother her one bit. She …’

A great wave of emotion crashed over John Abbot. He lowered his head and began to shudder as sobs took hold of him. Johanna Scotney rose and discreetly went into another room. Helen followed her. She found Johanna in the lounge room, which was large and well furnished. It didn’t look as if it got much use.

‘I didn’t think Mr Abbot would like me to see him like that.’

‘May I ask you some questions?’

‘Me?’

‘Do you mind?’

‘No, of course not — only I don’t see how I can help.’

‘Sometimes people who aren’t involved see things that other people miss.’

Helen hoped that this might put Johanna at her ease. Those fists remained clenched. Why?

‘Do you like working here, Johanna?’

‘Very much. Mr and Mrs Abbot have always treated me well.’

‘Did they treat each other well?’

‘Yes, they did. I never saw them argue, not once. I think they loved each other. I know Mr Abbot would never do anything to harm Mrs Abbot.’

‘Were you here when Matthew Todd visited?’

Johanna’s response took Helen by surprise. She turned her back on Helen, and when she spoke, her voice had a tremor in it.

‘He used to come here a bit.’ No more words would come.

‘Johanna?’

Johanna’s body gathered itself tightly and then uncoiled as a dreadful cry escaped and echoed through the house. The men in the kitchen looked up. Joe made to move towards the lounge room. Halloran shook his head.

‘Stay,’ he said.

Johanna turned to face Helen Lord. The muscles in her face were jumping. Helen waited.

‘Matthew Todd tried to rape me!’ She stood rigidly, her arms by her side, her fingernails biting into the palms of her hands.

‘He tried to rape me.’ Her voice was quieter now. Helen’s instincts overrode her position, and she took Johanna in her arms. She felt Johanna surrender to the comfort of the embrace; the tension ebbed out of her body until she was limp with exhaustion. Helen eased her into a large armchair, its antimacassar incongruously still in place.

‘He tried to rape me,’ she whispered one more time. ‘I told Timothy, and he didn’t believe me.’

TOM SCOTNEY ADMITTED
without obfuscation that he’d overheard his daughter telling Rose Abbot that Matthew Todd had assaulted her. Johanna and Helen Lord were sitting in the Scotney’s lounge room, with Johanna’s parents. It had taken less convincing than Helen had expected to get Johanna to reveal Matthew’s crime to her parents. The only reason she hadn’t done so already, she told Helen, was that she was afraid of what her father would do. It was when she sobbingly tried to explain this to her parents that Tom Scotney had admitted that he’d been listening at the door.

‘I’ll tell you this,’ he said. ‘If someone else hadn’t got to that little bastard first, I’d have done for him myself. I’m only sorry someone beat me to it.’