‘If hate could kill, half the world would be in their graves.’
Without looking at her he took her hand and held it in a firm grip.
In his assumed role as Coroner, Twyman opened the proceedings with a fulsome speech of introduction that caused considerable shuffling of feet and restless twitching. Clytie studied him objectively, seeing him in the light of Doc’s suspected enemy. Tall and portly, he had gimlet eyes that darted behind gold-rimmed spectacles. His receding black hair, pointed beard and toothbrush moustache conveyed an air of unchallenged authority – at least in his own eyes. His final statement caused a wave of uneasy silence.
‘As Coroner, I am empowered to summon a jury of twelve men. If I deem fit an autopsy and inquest can be performed super visum corporis – that is, in the direct presence of the corpse.’
His deliberate pause caused a stunned silence. Clytie looked at Finch in horror.
‘However,’ Twyman continued, ‘given that Dr Robert Hundey has already taken it upon himself to conduct the autopsy at the Diggers’ Rest overnight, and the direct cause of this death is yet to be determined, I have decided it is unnecessary to subject Sister Bracken’s corpse to public display.’
‘Thank Christ for that,’ came a woman’s audible whisper.
‘I expect all present will treat the proceedings with the same respect they would when attending church.’
‘What about us atheists?’ a man’s voice mumbled.
Clytie covered her mouth with her handkerchief and Finch coughed to conceal an involuntary laugh.
‘He’s got a point,’ he whispered.
The male jurists were named and took their places. The majority were storekeepers and tradespeople, including the baker, blacksmith and mine manager, ‘Boss’ Jantzen. To no one’s surprise, the foreman of the jury was the self-appointed Pius James, Noni’s father.
Finch’s whispered comment left Clytie bemused. ‘Sonny deserves to be on the jury – but perhaps he’s more valuable off it.’
The residents grew attentive at Twyman’s next statement.
‘I will now call on Dr Robert A. Hundey to report on the autopsy conducted on the orders of Sergeant Mangles immediately after the discovery of the corpse.’
At the sight of Doc gripping a copy of his report, Clytie felt a surge of anxiety. He looked exhausted, shabby and distinctly on edge. He blinked in surprise when Twyman addressed him as if he were a complete stranger.
‘For the record, Doctor, you are empowered to conduct an autopsy given that you are indeed one of three things. Either a Bachelor of Medicine from some University or other. Or have been licensed or admitted in England or Ireland – or else are a medical officer in the Navy or Armed services. I take it one of these applies in your case?’
Dr Hundey’s complexion drained to a paler shade of grey.
‘My medical qualifications are a matter of public record, as well you know, Sir. I have been resident physician in Hoffnung for the past twelve years – and in that capacity I have conducted some hundreds of autopsies.’
‘So it would seem. Given your credentials, in the light of your medical experience, what are your findings, Doctor? Was suicide the likely cause of death? Or murder by person or persons unknown?’
‘I cannot speculate on whether Sister Agnes Mary Bracken took her own life or if she met with foul play. I can only verify that her death was due to suffocation – and that her neck was broken, apparently in the act of hanging. I estimate the time of death as being between two and three hours before the discovery of her body in the cemetery.’ He paused. ‘I have some knowledge of knots due to my term as a naval surgeon. In this case the noose had been tied by someone who was inexperienced.’
His voice cracked. ‘I regret to say that death was unlikely to have been instantaneous. Sister Bracken may well have been strangled at the end of the rope for some minutes – a not uncommon occurrence in a bungled execution.’
Shocked exclamations erupted from the crowd and swelled like waves until the Coroner called for silence.
‘Anyone who causes a disturbance shall immediately be ejected from this inquest.’ Twyman turned a penetrating look on Doc. ‘You use the word “execution”, Doctor. Do I understand you to have used that word advisedly? That Sister Bracken’s death may not have been a clear case of death at her own hands, but an act of murder by person or persons unknown, designed to give the appearance of suicide?’
Doc hesitated before answering. ‘I found no medical indications to support the theory of murder. But I am unable to rule out that possibility. I can only say that when I saw the corpse hanging from a tree overhanging an infant’s grave, I was aware of a tall headstone on which the deceased woman could have stood before she jumped – or was pushed off – to be hanged.’
Twynan almost leapt from his seat.
‘So you do endorse the strong possibility of murder?’
‘No, that is, I cannot rule it out. As my report states, I can only confirm the cause of her death in physical terms. I have no way of knowing if anyone else was witness to the moment of her death or involved in its execution.’
The Coroner looked severely at each member of the jury before turning back to ask his final question.
‘And tell me, Doctor, your relationship with Sister Bracken was – shall we say – not always amicable?’
‘I had the highest respect for Sister Bracken’s many years of dedication to the Hoffnung Bush Hospital. As in all professional relationships, there were occasional differences of opinion over what treatment was in a patient’s best interests.’
‘I see. Your report states death occurred two to three hours prior to the discovery of the corpse.’
‘It does. That is as near as I can estimate it. I could well be out by the best part of an hour either way.’
‘Tell me, Doctor, as the sole medical practitioner in this locality, your services are in great demand, night and day, are they not?’
‘As you are well aware they are, Sir.’
‘Then no doubt you will be glad to tell the jury exactly where you were during the hours preceding the discovery of Sister Bracken’s body.’
Clytie was shocked to see Doc’s body suddenly jerk as if he had been hit. His hands twitched nervously. ‘I was home alone that afternoon. An unusual occurrence.’
‘Indeed, so it would seem. But were you quite alone, Doctor? I understand your sister, Miss Adelaide Hundey, is reclusive by nature. So no doubt she would be able to verify your presence at home?’
Doc’s face was diffused with anger. ‘My sister Adelaide has been unwell for several days. That is why I was at home that afternoon. She was asleep, due to a sedative I had administered to her. She was unaware of my presence in the house. I was forced to leave her unattended when a young lad delivered Sergeant Mangles’s message that I was required to examine a body at the cemetery.’
Doc’s voice rose on a high, nervous note. ‘I trust my word as a physician and a gentleman is good enough for you, Sir.’
‘Indeed. That will be all for the present, Doctor.’
Clytie found she had dug her nails into Finch’s palm, horrified by the direction the questioning had taken.
‘I don’t believe this is happening! Twyman’s determined to trap Doc with words.’
‘This inquest is a farce. Don’t worry, there’s a respected journalist present – Twyman won’t get away with his insulting insinuations!’
They stood with their backs to the wall to gain a clearer vantage of the scene.
The new priest, Father Sean Collins, was called to give evidence of his parishioner’s state of mind during the months prior to her death. His Irish accent was soft but his manner was adamant.
‘I can bear witness to the fact that Sister Agnes Mary Bracken was a devout Catholic and would totally abhor the idea of taking her own life. The act of suicide is totally out of character with this fine woman. With respect, I am asking you to remember her unblemished record.’
‘Quite
so, Father, duly noted.’ Twyman cast a glance of irritation at his jury. ‘However, the jury has raised the question that even a devoutly religious person can perform an act totally out of character if their mind is temporarily unbalanced. Would you agree with that theory, Father?’
The priest’s voice rose sharply. ‘I would not, Sir. I do not deal in generalisations but in the spiritual life of individual human beings. Sister Bracken, a devout Catholic, would never have taken her own life. Her many years as a bush nursing sister proves she spent her entire life saving lives. It is unthinkable that she would have taken her own life at the risk of eternal damnation.’
‘I understand Sister Bracken was a member of your congregation, Father.’
‘Indeed she was.’
‘And as such she would presumably have come to you to make Confession.’
‘Indeed she did.’
‘Was there any indication her mind was troubled by some act that might have unbalanced her mind? Perhaps revealed in Confession?’
‘The secrets of the Confessional are a sacred trust between priest and penitent. I am unable now or at any time in the future to discuss any such matters revealed in the Confessional – as I am sure you are well aware.’
‘Very well. May I ask how long you have known the deceased woman?’
The priest looked pink in the face, and mumbled his answer.
‘Did I hear you to say two months, Father?’
‘You did, Sir.’
‘I see. Then it would appear most of your knowledge of Sister Bracken has been handed on to you by others. Thank you, Father, that will be all.’
Twyman continued. ‘If I am to rely on Doctor Hundey’s findings, that death was due to strangulation, either due to suicide or at the instigation of person or persons unknown, that leaves several major questions unanswered. I now call on the witnesses who discovered the body.’
Sergeant Mangles’s speech took on a degree of formality that contrasted with his more casual daily dealings with local residents.
‘At ten minutes past six yesterday afternoon I was visited at the police station by two schoolboys, a local lad, Patrick Freebody and his cousin, Theo Freebody from Melbourne. The pair were breathless from running. They informed me that they had found the body of a hanged woman in the cemetery. After further questioning I ascertained that this was not the kind of boyish prank to which I am regularly subjected during the course of my duties. I escorted them to the cemetery, where I identified the corpse as being that of Sister Agnes Mary Bracken. It was obvious all life was extinct.’
‘Did you observe anyone else in the vicinity?’ the Coroner asked.
‘As recorded in my written deposition, Sir, there was no one else in the cemetery at that time. No one else in sight. I immediately prepared to cut the body down from the tree. The two Freebody boys were eager to assist me, but I sent them home to their parents.’
‘Did you notice anything out of the ordinary, Sergeant?’
‘There was something unusual about the way the corpse was dressed. There was only one shoe – on the left foot. I searched for the other shoe in the area but did not recover it. I noticed there were abrasions on the left foot, consistent with having walked some distance barefoot, as noted in Doc Hundey’s report.’
The next witness was Paddy Freebody. The son of the new schoolteacher at the local one-teacher school, he was tall for his twelve years, but still confined by the unwritten law to wearing short pants. His allegiance to Hoffnung was evident by the hand-knitted sweater he was wearing, its V-neck edged with the colour gold to denote Hoffnung’s cricket club.
‘I understand, Patrick Freebody, that you were the person who reported the body to Sergeant Mangles. And that your cousin is unable to be present today due to illness.’
‘He’s covered in measles, Sir, something awful,’ Paddy said helpfully.
‘In that case he is duly discharged from giving evidence. Please describe for the record what occurred in the cemetery.’
‘Me and my cousin was walking past the cemetery after school. He had begun to break out in spots on his face and wanted to go home. But I had my sling-shot and was on the look-out for birds to hit, when I spotted a woman swinging from a tree. There was no one else around. We ran up to see who she was. Her eyes were popping and she was all purple and –’
‘That will do, Patrick. You then ran to inform Sergeant Mangles, did you not?’
‘Yes, Sir. Is there a reward, Sir?’
‘No reward for calling the police, Patrick. That is your civic duty. But perhaps if your information should lead to the conviction of a murderer, the government might see their way to giving you some small compensation.’
‘Thank you, Sir!’
‘Did you notice anyone else at the time you were engaged in “shooting” birds with your slingshot?’
‘Not in the cemetery. But I seen Duffer Tibbut driving away in the pony trap he uses to deliver errands for Sister Bracken – or used to before she snuffed it.’
‘Duffer Tibbut? Is that his given name?’
Sergeant Mangles interjected, pink in the face. ‘The boys made no mention of sighting Donald Tibbut, Sir.’
‘I see. In that case it is important to speak to Donald Tibbut. Would you please arrange to escort this witness here immediately to give evidence – wherever he may be.’
‘I’m here, Sir!’ a voice called out from the back of the hall.
Tibbut was called forth to give evidence.
Clytie remembered him from her stay at the Bush Hospital. A pleasant lad of indeterminate age, tall and lumbering, who was slow in speech but always keen to do whatever bidding Sister Bracken assigned him. His shaven head revealed several white scars on the scalp. Although eager to help he did not seem to understand the concept of taking an oath. Twyman decided not to press the matter.
Tibbut answered all questions slowly in careful monosyllables, all the while hugging a large paper bag to his chest. He agreed that he had worked at the hospital for Sister Bracken for several years, in exchange for free bed and board. He delivered parcels, collected her mail, tended the hospital’s kitchen garden and collected the eggs from the hen house.
When asked when was the last occasion he had seen Sister Bracken, he thought the question over carefully.
‘When she was alive? She’s gone to heaven now, aint’ she?’
‘Certainly. When she was alive, Donald.’
‘At the hospital. Yesterday. When the lady came to see her.’
‘What lady was that, Donald?’
‘I don’t know her. I’ll get into trouble.’
‘No, you won’t, Donald. You can tell me.’ The Coroner beckoned the boy to approach him. ‘Is that lady here today?’
‘I can’t say!’ the lad said anxiously and began to cry. ‘I only came here to bring this back. I never stole nothing. Never.’
He handed the parcel to the Coroner. It contained a woman’s shoe.
‘This is Sister Bracken’s shoe, is it not? Good. You did right to bring it to me, Donald. Where did you find it?’
‘On the road. After Sister was gone. She said she was going to see the angels.’
There was a gasp of horror and a woman’s voice cried out, ‘Holy Mother of God!’
Twyman looked disconcerted and abruptly changed the subject. ‘Think carefully, Donald. You said a lady visited Sister Bracken. Presumably this was the last person to see her alive. You won’t get into trouble if you tell me what transpired between them.’
The youth looked blank.
‘That is, did you hear what they said?’
‘The window was open. They was shouting. Sister said, “Rom Delaney won’t leave me in peace.” The lady said, “Neither will I!” The lady made Sister write the letter.’
Clytie flinched at the mention of her lover’s name. ‘Finch, she had seen Rom! Why on earth would he be hounding her?’
‘Just listen,’ Finch replied. ‘I’ll explain later.’
Twyman p
ressed on. ‘What happened to that letter, Donald?’
‘The lady gave me this.’ He produced a shiny silver florin from his pocket and showed it to Twyman. ‘She said to give the letter to Mr Sonny Jantzen and no one else. So I drove the cart to his house. The Missus there said Mister Jantzen was ill – she would give him the letter later.’
From the rear of the hall Clytie saw all heads turn to focus on the Jantzens in the front row. Sonny appeared agitated, as if questioning Noni.
Twyman pressed on. ‘What happened when you returned to the hospital?’
‘Sister and the lady – they was both gone.’
‘Thank you, Donald, you have been most helpful. No one will be cross if you tell me. Have you ever seen this lady before?’
‘Yeah. She gave me money another time to take a message for her.’
‘Do you know her name? No? Then can you describe her? What – does – she – look – like?’ he asked with a sigh.
‘She had a flash hat. And she must have a sore foot.’
‘A sore foot? What makes you say that?’
‘She had a funny boot. And she walked like this.’ He limped a couple of steps forward.
There were gasps from the spectators. Clytie met Finch’s eyes. There was no doubting the child-like description was of Adelaide Hundey. The lad looked at the Jantzens and Doc seated in the front row then assured them nervously, ‘I didn’t say nothing.’
Clytie leapt to her feet when she saw Sonny Jantzen towing an unwilling Noni down the aisle to the exit, his face white with anger. Finch nudged her to look across to where Doc sat holding his head in his hands.
Coroner Twyman wasted no time. ‘This inquest is adjourned until three o’clock. Sergeant Mangles, I am instructing you to bring Miss Adelaide Hundey here to give evidence. No excuses by Dr Hundey for his sister’s ill health are acceptable to me. Do I make myself quite clear?’
Doc and the police sergeant exchanged a long meaningful glance. Finally, at a nod of acceptance from Doc, Mangles rose and accompanied his friend from the hall. Twyman’s final triumphant comment caused them both to halt at the exit.
Golden Hope Page 46
