The Baby Jane Murders

by Pen Avram

  "Would you be long?" constable Milton asked, wondering when he’d be able to go home and have his supper. His supper regularly included a glass of Shiraz and he wanted it badly.

  "We’re done. Thank you, Miss Whiteford. You don't know how much you helped me. Thank you, senior constable Milton." As he left, Kroupa wondered if Miss Whiteford was telling truth.

  -------

  Kroupa was in deep thought when he returned to the Hydro. "Mr Kroupa, Mr Hendrych would like to talk to you. He said that it was urgent," the Concierge informed him.

  "Where can I find Mr Hendrych?"

  "I believe he is in his room. Should I announce you?"

  "No need. You said he was expecting me, didn't you?"

  "Yes, I did, Sir."

  Hendrych greeted Kroupa with open arms. "You won’t believe my news. You’ll think I’m making it up.”

  "Let’s hear it then. I'm all ears."

  "I was attacked by two highway men. Do you believe me?"

  "Whatever you say."

  "And you’re not surprised?"

  "No. What did the highway men want?"

  "Money, what else."

  "Did you give them any?"

  "I gave them a couple of Ashi Barai and Kin Geri. They’re probably still recovering. Kin Geri is an especially painful kick if you aim accurately."

  "Did you get a good look at them?"

  "I didn't get the chance. Besides, they were wearing stockings over their heads. I reckon they were quite young, teenagers… no more, and it must have been their first attempted robbery. They were amateurs. That's all I can say. You don't seem to be impressed. Why?"

  "What is there to impress me?"

  "You are awful, Rowan. You really are."

  "Alright, I’m awful, but you are stupid. How could you fail to look at the faces of two incapacitated highwaymen. Who ever heard of such silly thing?"

  "Okay - I am stupid and you are ungrateful. Let’s quit and have a drink."

  They did, grinning at each other like two young boys who’d made themselves look silly and didn't want to admit it.

  ---------

  The local Gazette provided a charming story about the dog Nugget, which had been found by his happy owner. The parrot, Shakespeare, was entertaining his mistress with his talking once again, but the main report was about the two missing boys, Greg Sharp and Mark Cotton. Police confirmed that both boys were known to the police in relationship to the previous theft of groceries at an Aldi store on the nineteenth of January. The theft was a minor felony, but as a precaution the police had taken their photographs, vital statistics and fingerprints, without their consent. The boys claimed in their defense that they did not want to return to school or home, and needed a small supply of food and drink. The police reprimanded them and took into consideration that it was their first offence and released them without giving them a record. It was all good for the police, but the boys' parents were increasingly worried and requested that the police release the photographs and the boys' descriptions in the Gazette. The police dutifully complied and the distressed parents issued a statement that they wanted their sons back and assured them that any fear of punishment was baseless. The pictures were clear enough for the faces to be recognised and with the description and statistics there was every chance they would be found.

  Kroupa was looking at the photographs when constable Milton phoned. "Did you see the Gazette. Sorry I didn't ring you immediately, but you know the deadlines in the papers. But better late than never. The fingerprints on the cans are an exact match to those of the Sharp and Cotton boys. How's that for a coincidence!"

  "Congratulations, Senior Constable, I should have thought of it before. When did you have the boys down at police station?"

  "I’ll have to check… wait a moment. I’ll get the files.”

  There was a pause and Kroupa waited.

  “Here we are, January nineteenth, at fourteen hundred hours. They were held for two hours and thirty minutes, roughly."

  “But where are the boys now? Thank you very much, constable Milton."

  "Senior constable, Sir."

  "What's up?" Hendrych was feeling cosy, sitting in a comfortable armchair, sipping his beloved Martini.

  "Milton unfortunately believes that the two boys did it."

  "How does he know that they attacked me?"

  "Not your minor incident. I mean the murder. What an ass."

  "Isn't he a policeman?" Hendrych chuckled."

  "Sara, I have a job for you. Come on, we’ll leave the lazy man here drinking."

  "Oh, no! I want my exclusive. May I go too? Please." mewled Hendrych theatrically.

  "Come on then… First we have to go to Cottons and Sharps."

  "Why?"

  "To find the boys. I think that they’ll still be sore, if you were as good as you claim."

  They found both the boys’ parents very cooperative. They happily parted with pieces of clothing for Sara to sniff, and the trio proceeded to the place where Hendrych had defended himself so bravely. Sara caught the trail instantly. She led them deep into the forest. She was quiet. There was a dead stillbess surrounding them, till Hendrych loudly asked, "Did you get our position? On you iPhone, I mean."

  "Of course I did. For what do you take me? An amateur?"

  "Pssst. Look at Sara" Hehdrych was pointing to Sara who was in full alert. The sound of disturbed branches and twigs cut through the silence of the rainforest. And there was another sound, the sound of falling water. Not far from were they stood was an opening, a little pond, a rocky wall overgrown with moss and lumps of unevenly distributed water-grass, and all this was behind the curtain of a waterfall. Sara was quick to run to the falling water and barked. Kroupa hinted to Hendrych to follow her and see why she was so excited. Hendrych complied and soon was behind the watery drape, after which Kroupa could hear his voice. "There is a cave over here and it’s inhabited. Come and have a look."

  Kroupa followed his instruction. Behind the waterfall was a cave large enough to accommodate two people. In the middle were still smouldering cinders and ash. Against the stone wall leaned a crudely made bow with five equally crude arrows. Sara was clever enough to know that the first part of her job was accomplished and that there was still more for her to do. She sniffed the travel rags under which the occupier had slept, gave a loud bark and was on her way, regularly waiting for her companions to catch up with her. She arrived at a huge grey eucalyptus tree. It looked like it had three trunks, with a mane of beautifully curved thick branches. The bark was peeling in large pieces, which crumbled and broke with a crepitating sound, echoing in the almost scary silence. Sara kept barking at the tree. "O.K. boys. It is time to go home. Your mums are waiting for you. I will not press any charges for the shot." Kroupa shouted at the top of the gum. The young boys took their time, but eventually joined the trio. Together the boys went home with Kroupa and Hendrych, who made sure that they were safely deposited to their parents before returning to the hotel. Sara first followed the call of nature and then, after a bowl of Pedigree and another bowl of water, she fell asleep exhausted, snoring softly. Kroupa and Hendrych took their showers and went to the restaurant for an early dinner; in the middle Kroupa nervously searched for his iPhone and after recovering it, called constable Milton. "If you're still looking for young Sharp and Cotton, you'll find them explaining to their relieved parents all their adventures and mischievous behaviour. But if I were you I would not charge them with the murder. I wouldn't want you to bark up the wrong tree. 'Man that is born of a woman is of few days, and full of trouble'. They may have other sins to answer for. Have a peaceful night, senior constable. And since I can't resist giving you my advice, I would recommend you release Miss Whiteford. She’ll be happier in her own bed. Besides, I'd like to have a chat with her in her own home. It's more friendly and intimate, don't you think? Good night, constable." Hendrych was watching Kroupa enjoying his portion of steak chateaubriand and rolling a 1954 Grange over his tongue. "I deserv
e it," he said in self-satisfaction.

  He was thinking whether he should have another talk with Alyson Brunt. He had her contact details, he just thought it might be too late. But there again, it was not even eight o'clock and there was surely something on TV to entertain the old woman. He decided to go. "Johan, do you want to join me in the company of an old gossipmonger?"

  "No, I don't want to, but I will. Is Sara going, too?"

  "No. I’ll let her have a good night’s sleep. She’s worked so hard lately, poor thing. Besides, Miss Brunt poses no danger to us."

  "Oh, that’s where you want to go? I wonder if I shouldn't reconsider."

  "You’re going, and there is no way out. That’s final. I'll announce ourselves and then we can go."

  --------

  Alyson Brunt was an elderly woman, short, stocky, with pink cheeks and a cunning, sly smile. Hendrych didn't like her at all and Kroupa seemed to share his sentiment. But Miss Brunt received them in a friendly manner, with the hospitality for which the Blue Mountains were famous. "Tea or coffee, gentlemen?" she greeted them and showed them into the dining room. The cottage was rather small. It resembled a miner's cottage, which probably had had one bedroom originally, as well as a bathroom, dining room and kitchen. "I have biscuits, Anzac biscuits. Will they do? And did you decide, coffee or tea?"

  "Coffee for me, thank you," answered Hendrych and Kroupa added, "Me too, please." Miss Brunt shuffled to the kitchen, the whistle of a kettle sounded, and soon a plate of Anzac biscuits - an Australian tradition - was on the wooden coffee-table with a pot of strong coffee. Kroupa noticed with appreciation that the coffee set was Meissen, simple but 'echt' Meissener Porzellan with crossed swords. He didn't expect such luxury in a little house like this. Miss Brunt noticed his surprise and casually noted, "The little cottage that smiles is better than a palace that cries."

  "It is unfortunately another cottage that cries now." Kroupa said in half whisper.

  "Yes, it is a shame. Very unfortunate, if you ask me. Very unfortunate. But not surprising, if you know what I mean."

  "Sorry, I don't. Could you elaborate a bit?" Kroupa suggested.

  "I could, but first tell me, gentlemen, in what capacity did you come here to interrogate me?"

  "Let me assure you, Ma'am, that we are not here to interrogate you. We are here purely out of personal interest. If I may introduce myself, I am Detective Chief Inspector Kroupa, and this is my dear friend, the journalist and my assistant Mr Hendrych. We came here to spend a couple of days in this beautiful part of the world in which you have the privilege to dwell and we came across this dreadful incident. You know, old habits die hard. I am a detective and there is something to report on. You understand, don't you?"

  "Of course, I understand. But I’m not a gossip monger. On no account. And I certainly don't want to be labelled as one. But since you are a detective, I might just assist you in your inquiries, if I can. I am financially independent, but if there is a reward for helping identify the killer, I would not mind being acknowledged, if you know what I mean."

  "Unfortunately we can't speak for the police, but I can promise you that if we come to the right conclusion, you will be publicly acknowledged. Please, begin." Kroupa indicated to the biggest armchair. Miss Brunt sat herself in it, her short legs gently and comically swinging, and she began. "As I said before, I don’t like to gossip, but it is my public duty to assist the police where a murder is concerned. Do you follow me, gentlemen?"

  "Yes, we do," Kroupa and Hendrych said in one voice, and nodded to Miss Brunt to continue. Hendrych secretly turned on his voice-recorder.

  "Well, gentlemen," Miss Brunt began her narrative with a pompous gesture and matching tone, "Miss Winterbottom was a strange person, if you know what I mean. Take her age, for instance. To look at her she was an elderly woman of around sixty, wouldn't you say? But you’re wrong, gentlemen. She was much, much younger. She was the only woman I know who wanted to look older. But why? She had to have a reason. I asked myself, 'Why'? She had to have a dark secret in her past that she wanted to hide or forget, or both. But what could it be? I searched and asked, not that I am an inquisitive person, mind you, but one should know about their neighbours. However all I know is that she lived in Sydney before moving to the Mountains more than twenty years ago. Why, I don't know. She started teaching music, singing; that is how she earned her miserable living. She shopped at Coles in Katoomba, and lately more often at Aldi, which is cheaper. She never had a car and had to take the train everywhere. She befriended Miss Whiteford, but in general she tended to ignore me and we didn’t really have any contact. And you yourself know how it ended. Winterbottom is dead and Whiteford is behind bars, in the slammer. There you have it. I can't tell you anything else. Except that I heard it on the grapevine, that before she started shopping at Aldi, she had a fit at Coles. She didn't argue with anyone. She just had a fit. Make of that what you will. And now, gentlemen, is there anything interesting you could tell me?”

  Hendrych looked at Kroupa who was equally surprised by the question. They both shook their heads, got up and made to leave. "Thank you, Miss Brunt for your hospitality. The biscuits were magnificent." Hendrych said.

  "Are you sure you have nothing to share with me? A small, tiny piece of gossip?"

  "No, I’m sorry Miss Brunt. We don't have anything to share. It's all very much still under wraps. Be patient, please, it will all be in the Gazette, including your valuable contribution. You won't be ignored anymore, I guarantee you. Good bye, Miss Brunt." Kroupa prodded Hendrych out of the cottage.

  "I need to recover. Let's go to Portland Street." Kroupa decided.

  "What is in Portland Street?" Hentrych wondered.

  "The Chalet Restaurant. Something is telling me we should dine there. Okay with you? I cannot guarantee you’ll get a Martini, though."

  "I never interfere with your intuition. Let's go."

  They walked. It was a cool summer’s evening and Kroupa was sorry that Sara was locked up in his room. She would have enjoyed the sound of bower birds calling their mating partners and the deafening noise of cicadas. When they arrived at The Chalet there was only one guest. He was sitting at the corner table, looking depressed and sad. The dinner in front of him was getting cold. It was rarely touched. The man was close to sixty years old, tall, athletically built and he had clearly been a handsome man in his earlier years. He didn't look up when Kroupa and Hendrych entered. "This is a BYO. We must drive to Coles or LiquorLand to get something. We can get a cab, surely. It’s very close to Katoomba. Let's go." Hendrych was quick off the mark. Kroupa thought differently. "Excuse me Miss, do you sell wine and spirits?" he asked the waitress.

  "Only with meals, if that's alright with you?"

  "It is."

  After being settled, Kroupa observed the only other guest. He scrutinised him carefully; his tropical suit, sandals with socks, very unusual in this country, and a straw hat resting on the chair on the side. The man, despite his age, was proudly displaying a rich, curly mane of red hair. Kroupa nodded to Hendrych and pointed to the stranger. Hendrych took the hint. He cleared his throat and said. "It is quite cosy here, isn't it. Just the three of us. We need a fourth for a game of poker, if you would join us, Sir?"

  The man looked up, shook his head and said in a sad tone, "I don't feel like any entertainment. Not today."

  "What’s up? I’m Rowan, by the way and this is Johan."

  "I’m Stan… Stanley Lackey."

  "Are you holidaying, Mr Lackey?"

  "Call me Stan. No, I’m not holidaying. I am, or was, on a sort of a business trip that went wrong."

  "I’m sorry to hear it. Would it help you if you talked about it?" Kroupa was ready to listen.

  "I don't know; it's really very personal and uninteresting. It would bore you to death." Stan's eyes were getting watery. "Death, that's it. Death. The death of a being, who hasn't got a name yet. What a swine I was." Stan dropped his head into his hands and started to sob.

&nb
sp; Hendrych came to the rescue. "What can I shout you?"

  "What?" a surprised Stan asked.

  "What can I get you to drink?" Hendrych was patient.

  "Something strong. Maybe an original Bourbon? Bottled in Kentucky, or Tennessee." Stanley started to warm up.

  "Bourbon it is. If they don't have any, you can use my hip flask." Hendrych call the waiter, who assured him that they had a variety of Bourbon.

  "Take your pick; Jim Beam, Wild Turkey, Eliah Craig, George Dickel, Maker's Mark, Evan Williams; will anyone do?" answered the proud waiter.

  "Ask my fried here." Hendrych pointed to Stan.

  "Maker's Mark, please, and make it a double while you’re at it. Thank you."

  The atmosphere was getting warmer. The Maker's Mark arrived and the waiter stood at the table anticipating their orders. Finally he said, "Excuse me, gentlemen, but we only serve drinks with meals; if you are looking for a dinner option, here is our menu to tempt you. He presented each of them with an elaborately decorated menu and waited in the distance.

  Entrée

  -Zucchini and Almond Soup

  -Chorizo, Goat’s Cheese & Caramelised Onion Bruschetta

  -Trio of Oysters: Gin & Dill Vinaigrette; Lemon & Pepper Granita; Chilli, Ginger & Rice Wine Vinegar

  Main

  -Pan Fried Snapper with Pancetta and Caper Butter

  -Pepper Beef Fillet, Roast Mushrooms & Roast Tomato

  -Baked Eggplant filled with Tomato, Feta & Almond, with Soft Polenta

  Dessert

  -Caramelised Figs with Lemon Mascarpone

  -Raspberry Crème Brûlée & Vanilla Bean Ice Cream

  -White Chocolate ‘Fondue for Two’, Biscotti, Strawberries, Figs, Peaches, Marshmallow.

  Kroupa and Hendrych carefully chose and asked Stan what he wanted. "I don't have an appetite, but please go ahead."

  When the order was completed, Kroupa indicated to the waiter, ordered their dinners, another double for Stan, who did not object, and a Dry Martini and a handle of Black. The waiter was slightly taken back, so Kroupa explained to him that he wanted a pint of Tooheys Old.