Chapter Three

Problems for Bony

BONY WAS delighted with his office, a small room situated at the end of a corridor and plainly furnished. He had only to turn in his chair and thump the wall to summon Sergeant Crome.

He liked Crome at their first meeting. Big, inclined to stoutness, not much hair, and grey at that, Crome was both dynamic and kindly, impatient with himself and tolerant unto others, and very early Bony sensed that he was perturbed by the discovery that he had not been equal to events. What Crome needed was a renewal of confidence.

“Sit down, Crome, and smoke if you want to,” Bony told him when Pavier had left after the introduction. “Before we’re through we’ll do a lot of hard smoking. Tell me about yourself. Married?”

“Yes, sir,” replied the sergeant, producing pipe and tobacco. “Have two girls in their early teens. I was a senior constable stationed at Bathurst when the Superintendent was an inspector. That was eight years ago. The Super’s been a good friend to me.”

“He gave me the impression that he could be. During the period you’ve been stationed here how many homicide cases have you been engaged upon?”

“Not including these two cyanide cases, nine. Of those nine, only one was difficult to break open. You see, sir, here in Broken Hill we don’t have gangster feuds, very few bashings, and rarely a sex crime.” Crome lit his pipe and tossed the spent match into the emptyw.p. b. “Superintendent Pavier is the best senior officer we’ve ever had at Broken Hill. He’s trained most of us, and he invented a system to identify characters reported from other centres. Every train and aircraft is met. Social evils which experience has proved everywhere cannot be stamped out are here quietly controlled, and, despite the surplus of males, our women are safer than in any city in Australia.”

“What about petty offences-robberies?”

“Not much of that-until these last few months.”