Taking a Chance

by Deborah Burrows

  ‘We know, Susan,’ I put in hastily. ‘You’re out of there now.’

  ‘What happened to the tin of Coloseptic?’ Johnny’s voice was cold.

  Susan looked at him and shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’

  His face was expressionless, but he was watching Susan closely and she met his steady gaze with frightened eyes. After a beat or two she frowned and said lightly, ‘I think maybe Lily buried it under the big gum tree near our cottage.’

  I saw her flinch, almost as if to ward off a blow. Surprised, I looked towards Johnny. His eyes were glittering with fury.

  ‘You let Lena Mitrovic be tried and found guilty for murder,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Was that part of your plan with Lily?’

  Susan stared at him. ‘No, of course not. It just happened. We read in the paper that they thought Lena had killed him and I wanted to tell, but Lily said that it probably was Lena anyway because the Coloseptic couldn’t have killed him.’ She rubbed the damp hankie over her eyes. ‘I would have told if she was going to be hanged.’

  Johnny made a snorting sort of sound.

  ‘I would’ve! But then I got so scared, and Willy wouldn’t let me out of the house if I didn’t pay his money.’ Her voice rose into a whine. ‘I didn’t know what to do. Lily wasn’t there. She always knew what to do.’

  Johnny turned to me. ‘Nell, would you get out your notebook please?’ I got it out. ‘Write this down,’ he said. And with the precision of a trained interviewer he dictated to me the entirety of what Susan had said, almost verbatim as far as I could tell. I wrote it down exactly as he said it, and Susan nodded in agreement as his deep voice calmly repeated what she had told us. When I had finished he held out his hand for the notebook and I handed it to him. He put it in front of Susan.

  ‘Read this carefully and sign at the bottom of each page. I’ll sign next to you. We can give it to the police.’

  She hesitated, wide-eyed and scared.

  Johnny said patiently, ‘Either Lily played a dirty trick on you and let you put the stuff in Rick’s tea knowing that it was poisoned, or someone who wanted Rick dead played a trick on her, or it was a simple mistake. I believe you. I believe that you didn’t know what was in the tin, but you’re what they call a material witness. It is safest for you if your story is set down in black and white and given to the police – then you’re out of the equation.’

  She looked confused. He sighed.

  ‘If Rick’s death was planned then you’re dangerous to the murderer because you know the true story. The murderer may be looking for you now. Understand?’

  She said slowly, ‘Once I’ve told my story then there’s no point in killing me.’

  ‘Clever girl. Now sign the pages.’

  She picked up the pen and shakily wrote her name at the foot of each page. Johnny signed his name beside hers before he carefully folded the pages and tucked them into his breast pocket.

  Then he turned to look at me and we shared a moment of pure exultation. Johnny’s brown eyes were shining with excitement and my heart was pounding against my chest. We’d done it! We’d found the evidence that could exonerate Lena Mitrovic. John Horvath and Eleanor Fitzgerald may have saved a woman from spending her life in gaol for a crime she didn’t commit.

  It was heady stuff, this investigative reporting.

  The offices of the Criminal Investigation Department were in the old stone Police Courts building on the corner of Roe and Beaufort streets, around the corner from the cafe. We told the policeman behind the grille that we wanted to see Detective Munsie, the head of the Criminal Investigation Bureau. We got a very surprised look, but he took our names and made the call. Five minutes later we were seated in Mr Munsie’s office.

  Detective Munsie was a keen-eyed middle-aged man with a mournful face and the senior policeman’s air of having seen and heard it all. He listened to our story and then read with careful deliberation the pages that Susan had signed.

  ‘And you say this is all true?’ he asked Susan sharply.

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Her voice was a soft squeak.

  His light-coloured eyes moved to regard Johnny.

  ‘John Horvath,’ he said pensively. ‘I’ve heard of you, of course. Read your Philippines bulletins. And the ones since.’

  He looked down at the handwritten pages again, and a deep crease appeared between his eyebrows. Then he shot a look at me. His eyes were a grey-green colour and they were surprisingly intimidating. I didn’t know why I should feel guilty, but in the face of that pale gaze, I did.

  ‘Miss Eleanor Fitzgerald. Mrs Munsie enjoys your column, but I wasn’t aware that you were an investigative journalist.’

  My voice was rather high. ‘I’m not, really. I was assigned to the last day of the Mitrovic trial because there was no one else. I met Mr Horvath and it all went from there.’

  Without moving his head, his eyes fixed on Susan. ‘You shouldn’t have run away, my girl. You’ve put yourself in danger and worried your parents sick.’

  Still holding Susan’s frightened gaze, he tapped lightly with his forefinger at the papers on his desktop. ‘Do you know where Lily Carter is?’

  ‘I think she’s in Fremantle,’ said Susan in a small voice. ‘We had a fight and split up about a week after we got here.’

  Then Mr Munsie smiled at her, a real smile, a comforting smile.

  ‘Don’t worry, lassie,’ he said. ‘You’ll soon be home with your parents.’

  He pressed a button on the telephone on his desk and asked for a woman police constable to be sent in. When she arrived he asked her to take Susan to an interview room and make her comfortable. Susan looked young and lost and forlorn as she left the room. I smiled at her, but got no smile in reply.

  ‘Susan needs to be looked after,’ I said when they had left. ‘Where will she stay tonight?’

  He looked at me with a slightly confused expression, as if he’d been thinking of something else entirely. ‘I want to talk with Susan a little more,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry, Miss Fitzgerald, I’m not in the business of terrifying children. Miss Bonehill will be present during any interrogation – I have to contact the probation officers where a child is involved. I’ll phone Susan’s parents now to tell them that she is here and send a car to pick them up if that’s what they want.’

  There was a slight grimace. ‘But I have to tell you both that I’m sceptical about all this.’ He again tapped the papers that held Susan’s statement. ‘Teenage girls often make up stories – we see it all the time. What do we actually have here? A silly girl who ran away from home and got mixed up in no good. This story makes her into a heroine – Lily’s dupe, who now wants to make things right. It reads like a pack of lies to me.’

  Johnny made a sudden movement beside me.

  Munsie flicked him a look and said, ‘But of course I’ll investigate it thoroughly.’

  ‘Will you keep me informed?’ I asked Munsie. I was determined to keep the running of the story.

  He gave me a tense smile. ‘I’ll let you know what’s happening.’

  Mr Munsie put both his hands on the desk and pushed himself up. Looking first at Johnny and then at me, he said, ‘Thank you both for your efforts. I’ll give this information to the Crown Prosecutor and the Attorney-General for their views.’ Johnny made another jerky movement and Mr Munsie said quickly, ‘It will also be provided to Miss Mitrovic’s lawyer, but only after we’ve finished our investigations.’

  Johnny stood quickly and his chair made a scraping sound when he pushed it backwards across the wooden floor. He said in a low, angry voice, ‘Two things. First, this girl is potentially in danger. If what she says is true then the whole thing may have been an elaborate murder. Someone may have tricked the girls into poisoning Henzell. If so, then whoever it is will want Susan and Lily out of the picture. Second, Lena Mitrovic is rotting in gaol and she’s innocent. I’m going to see Mr Williams as soon as I leave here and I’m going to tell him everything we’ve found out. You can’t
stop me doing that. I want Lena out of gaol. Now. You know this new evidence means that there’s enough doubt. She should be let out on bail.’

  Munsie frowned and leaned across the desk towards Johnny. He said, annoyance clear on his face, ‘I can’t stop you from going to her lawyer, but Miss Mitrovic will be kept in gaol until after our enquiries are complete. All you’ve got here is the word of a young girl who was stupid enough to run away from home and get involved in prostitution. We can’t

  reopen the case on this evidence alone. This isn’t America, Mr Horvath.’

  Johnny’s eyes narrowed. ‘You can’t bury this,’ he said. ‘You can’t leave Lena in gaol when there’s new evidence like this. I’ll go to the West Australian and it’ll be tomorrow’s front-page news.’

  I drew in a sharp breath. How dare he? It was my story, my exclusive. He couldn’t just hand it to a rival newspaper. I glared at him, but he wasn’t watching me.

  My anger faded as I watched his face, fierce with anger and determination. Johnny was trying to help Lena in any way he could. They had been lovers; he probably still loved her. Looking at his face, it seemed that he did, but even if it wasn’t love he felt, he would fight as hard as he could to help her, because that was the sort of man he was. That was why I loved him so much.

  Mr Munsie’s voice was caustic. ‘Nothing is going to be buried, Mr Horvath. I’ve only just heard about it all. We’ll need to speak to Susan some more, find Lily Carter and find the Coloseptic tin – if it exists – and analyse its contents to see what’s what.’

  Johnny’s chest was heaving and his hands were in fists. I got up to stand beside him, feeling oddly forlorn. ‘Am I able to refer to Susan’s new evidence about the murder in my article?’

  ‘Why not?’ said Munsie sarcastically. ‘You’ll risk a defamation suit if it all turns out to be a fantasy that Susan has concocted, but go right ahead. The Marvel does that all the time. Anyway, Mr Horvath tells me that it’ll be old news by Saturday.’

  Johnny became very still. He looked across at Mr Munsie. ‘I am going straight to Lena’s attorney,’ he said quietly, ‘and I’m telling him everything.’ His voice rose. ‘An innocent woman is in gaol, dammit.’

  Johnny had lost his temper and now he’d lost Munsie, whose pale eyes had become cold and hard and glowering.

  ‘Lena Mitrovic was convicted of murder by a jury last week after a fair trial,’ said Munsie. ‘You come in here with the uncorroborated story of a fifteen-year-old girl – a ludicrous story, if you want my opinion – and you expect me to jump-to and throw scarce police resources into what is almost certainly a wild goose chase.’ Munsie glared at Johnny. ‘The matter will be investigated, but in good time, and after I’ve spoken to the Crown Prosecutor and the Attorney General. Now good day, Mr Horvath.’ There was a nod in my direction. ‘Good day, Miss Fitzgerald.’

  Johnny and I were a sombre pair as we left the police building and walked along Beaufort Street towards the city. I was very aware of him, close beside me. He was holding himself stiffly, and his anger was palpable. I desperately wanted to touch him, to feel the warmth of his body, and had to force myself to keep my distance. When we got to the bridge across the railway I stopped and glanced at my wristwatch. Two thirty.

  ‘I think I’ll go back to the office and start getting my notes into order,’ I said. ‘I want to send it all to the boss – I’ll need his okay before it’s printed. And I’ve got to finish this week’s column, too. Are you really going straight to Mr Williams?’

  ‘Of course I am,’ he said. ‘They know that this means there’s sufficient doubt. Lena was convicted on circumstantial evidence, because there was no other logical explanation for the crime. No jury would convict her now. They should let her out on bail.’

  I nodded. ‘You’re right, of course. She should be released. But, to be fair to Mr Munsie, all we’ve given him is a fifteen-

  year-old girl with a rather improbable story. Lena was

  convicted by a jury after a fair trial. I think it’ll be hard to get her released until they find the Coloseptic tin and discover that it really has got rat poison in it, or Lily confirms all that Susan has said.’

  His face closed up and for the first time his expression when he looked at me was cold. ‘It wasn’t a fair trial because those Keystone Cops of yours didn’t do their job properly. I’m going to do everything I can to get Lena out of that gaol.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I said. ‘I’ll see you, Johnny.’ I turned to walk away. He did still love Lena; it was obvious. I should have realised it earlier. I was only ever a distraction from the main business – that of getting Lena out of gaol.

  ‘Wait, Nell.’ He put a hand on my arm to stop me. ‘You do understand why I’m doing this, don’t you?’ His eyes were brown as cinnamon and my arm felt hot where he was gripping it. ‘Lena is innocent, and she’s in that hellhole they call Fremantle Prison. I have to do all I can for her. She deserves that from me. Maybe I can’t do anything more than let her know that people are working hard to try to get her out – that eventually justice will be done. But at least I can do that. And perhaps I can do more.’

  I nodded. ‘You have to do what you can for her. I understand that. I doubt that you’ll be able to get her out of Fremantle, though. Not until there’s more evidence, and even then it may need a Royal Commission.’ I looked into his eyes unflinchingly and I even managed to smile. ‘Johnny, you’ve done so much already. I really think that you’ve saved her. It’s only a matter of time now – I’m sure of that. Lena is so lucky to have you as her champion.’

  He dropped his hand from my arm and but held my gaze. ‘It’s not just because it’s Lena,’ he said. ‘It’s wrong to keep any innocent person locked up once there’s doubt like this. I’d fight just as hard if it was Evie or one of my brothers. Or a stranger on the street. You do understand that too, don’t you?’

  I nodded slowly. ‘Yes, of course. It’s like you said when we were in Richmond – sometimes we reporters can make a difference.’ I touched his arm, a feather-light touch. ‘I’m so glad that I could help you to make the difference.’ My mouth was dry. ‘Working with you on this. It’s been . . . life-changing for me.’

  He was staring at me; I couldn’t read his face. I managed another smile. Then I turned away from him again and started walking back to my office.

  typed up my notes of what had happened over the past four days, from our trip to Richmond on Saturday until this afternoon. I was glad to have something important to occupy my mind, focus my thinking.

  ‘Tea’s made.’ Maisie Coulter, our office junior, was standing in the doorway of the reporters’ room. ‘Come and get it. We’ve got Milk Arrowroot biscuits today.’ She disappeared to spread the news and I rubbed my eyes and stretched my fingers. It was four o’clock and time for a break.

  I poured myself a cup of tea, grabbed a biscuit and returned to my desk. As I sipped my tea I finally allowed myself to think about Johnny Horvath. I thought, rather bleakly, that Johnny was not for me. For one thing it was clear that he loved Lena Mitrovic: his face had lit up as he spoke about getting her released from gaol. Anyway, he’d soon be gone, far away, back to the war and the danger he craved.

  So I had to work out what I wanted to do. I couldn’t marry Rob – it was unfair to offer him such a pale shadow of what I felt for Johnny. I’d have to end it with Rob. I hated the idea of breaking his heart by letter, but what else could I do? And I’d have to do it quickly; it was wrong to keep Rob in the dark about my feelings for any longer than absolutely necessary. I wished I could speak to him face to face, but he was two thousand miles away. I couldn’t even telephone him because the service to the eastern states was a joke. Trunk calls had to be booked hours in advance and even if you got through, the conversations were virtually unintelligible because of static. No, I’d have to write. I’d try to make a start on the letter tonight, work out how to let him down easily. And then?

  I finished my tea, and put the cup back ont
o the saucer with a clatter as I made one firm decision at least: I’d ask the boss if I could keep on with investigative reporting and feature writing, because I wasn’t going to go back to just being a beauty and fashion columnist. If I couldn’t have Johnny at least I’d have a satisfying career. Perhaps I’d move to Sydney or Melbourne. Apply to be a war correspondent, like Clare Hollingworth or Martha Gellhorn or Anne O’Hare McCormick, who’d won a Pulitzer Prize before the war. Australia didn’t have female war correspondents. Well, I could be the first. I’d look into it next week.

  Now it was time to get back to my work. My notes were for Dave Gleddings and they related to two separate stories. The first I entitled ‘The Lost Girls of Perth’. It dealt with the problem of teenage girls loose in a city filled with servicemen and easy money. I set out the pitfalls they faced and the terrible consequences that could result. I wrote about poor Mabel Norton, slowly fading in Fremantle Gaol after giving birth alone in the dark and killing her unwanted baby in a fit of melancholy. I explained to the boss how I was intending to use the archives of the Marvel to complete the feature; the journal had covered every sordid story in Perth for the last twenty years and I knew it would be a goldmine of sobering information.

  The second story was that of the truth behind Rick Henzell’s murder. This was not the story the boss had asked me to write, but it was breaking and it was front-page news. It was my exclusive and I was going to make the most of it – if he agreed to publish it.

  When my notes were typed, I clipped them neatly into two bundles, put them in a large envelope and asked the office boy, Ron Browne, to take them around to Dave Gleddings’ house immediately.

  Next I telephoned Sergeant Smith at the anti-vice squad. I told him about Hanlon’s house and how young the girls were.

  ‘This Susan Lorrimer was only fifteen?’ I could hear the anger in his voice.