The Devil's Steps by Arthur W. Upfield is the 10th book of the Inspector Napoleon Bonaparte mystery series set in Victoria (not the Australian Bush) after WWII. Bony is on the trail of military secrets. He's not in the bush for this case, rather at a posh guesthouse in a lush landscape.
As always, Bony has to deal with police bureaucrats who get in his way and doubt his skill, but eventually take credit for his directions how to solve the crime and nab the killer. He's just "too clever by half" as the saying goes.
first morning in September...."Thank 'eaven this winter won't last much longer."
A maid set down before Bisker his breakfast of bacon and eggs, toast and coffee for Miss Jade fed her staff well.
This Grumman business was a kind of aftermath of the German surrender.
To the man of the open spaces of the semi-arid interior, this scene of soft greens and chocolate earth, of silvered tree trunks and trailing vines, gave pure delight. The air was so clear, cool but not cold, and its freshness was like wine in the nostrils.
It was strange how there were always periods of calm in an investigation, and how a period of calm inevitably gave place to another period of excitement and action. Crime is a most peculiar manifestation of human psychology. It never lies down for very long, especially the crime of homicide.
"And the secret of success is--personality," stated Bony. "The secret of success is organization," countered Miss Jade. "The study of details so that unnecessary labour is eliminated. Success is not dependent on the appearance of the hostess--it might be in a saloon bar."
Mason jumped to his feet and welcomed him with a smile. "How's the world treating you?" asked Mason. "Fairly easy. And you?" "Fairly hard," replied Mason.
Mason leaned back in his chair and regarded Bony with raised brows. "Well, that's strange. We live and learn, don't we?" he said slowly. "We are always learning, Mason, those of us who are intelligent."
"Well now, sit down and behave yourself," Bagshott commanded, and waved his visitor into a chair. Bony was startled, being unaware that he was misbehaving, and then his eyes gleamed with humour, for his host meant nothing more than to put him at ease.
Mounted on a plaque was the head of a marlin. Bony stood in the centre of the room, looking upward at the gleaming sea-green-and-blue specimen of the greatest fighting fish in all the oceans. Bagshott was talking game fish, but what he said did not register in Bony's mind, for Bony's brain had become a torch set on fire by the head and sword of the fish and by the huge hook he still carried in his hands. He could smell the sea. He could feel the tautness of every nerve whilst waiting for the moment to strike. A million pictures passed before the eyes of his inner mind, and he lived again through the greatest moments of his life.
Mason asked if he was considering the fellow's arrest. "Arrest!" echoed Bony. "Arrest--nothing! Why, I'm going swordfishing with Bagshott and his wife." And he left Mason looking after him from the car door, on his face an expression of blank bewilderment.
"There are times when my Chief, and others whom I will not name, causes me intense weariness. It is my Chief's paramount failing to assign me to a case and then impatiently demand instant results. He lent me to Colonel Blythe, and almost immediately demanded my return. I'd not like to think where I would have got in my career if I had ever taken the slightest notice of him."
"And you have reason to think that Bagshott's feet weren't in his shoes when his shoes made the marks on Miss Jade's lawn?" "That, Super, sums up the situation. Now, let me have a few minutes with the bust of our dear friend Marcus."
"I have an intuition that Marcus is not as far away from us as the facts and assumptions. indicate."
"How's your place off for rain?" he said, opening the conversation. Mr. Bonaparte, passing as the squatter whose station was in Western Queensland, was able to answer the question with a fair degree of accuracy, having studied the weather reports over the last six months just in case.
His mother's blood was tingling his neck and the roots of his hair; his father's blood was flowing strongly through his heart. The aboriginal half of him was widening his nostrils and dilating his eyes and urging him to flee from the unseen terror; the white half of him was holding him to that corner, controlling his limbs and his mind.