by Hunter Alan
‘You’re a good girl, Miss Spelton. You wanted to save your brothers a lot of trouble. You came out specially just now to save them from trouble. You didn’t mind staying up late to do that for them. You’re a good girl, you’ve done well. Now Dave and Jackie don’t have to worry any longer. You’ve taken care of them, you’re a true Spelton. You’ve made everything all right by coming out here like this.’
The head of the hammer sank further.
‘I’m going to tell them about you,’ Gently said, ‘how brave you’ve been, how you got rid of their enemies, we’ll go in now and I’ll tell them. Give me the hammer and we’ll go in. They won’t be angry any longer. I’ll show them the hammer, tell them all about it. Look, here’s my hand. Give me the hammer.’
He held out his hand, shone the torch on it. Vera Spelton was silent.
‘Put the hammer in my hand,’ Gently said.
Vera Spelton reached out, put the hammer in his hand.
The hammer was a three-pound ball-peen hammer and there were bloodstains on the head of the hammer and on the edge of the face of the hammer was a burr and in the burr was trapped a pluck of hair. The haft was burned with the Spelton brand. Gently handled the hammer by the helm of the haft. He held the hammer behind him away from Vera Spelton. He made a sweeping motion with the torch.
‘Come on then,’ he said.
Vera Spelton rose silently. The light touched her face. She was smiling. She didn’t say anything. Gently didn’t touch her. He began to walk. She walked beside him. They walked across the rough ground and down the cinder path and through the garden of the Spelton house. Gently opened the door without knocking. They passed through into the office.
‘Here’s your sister,’ Gently said.
Vera Spelton smiled at her brothers. Gently laid the hammer on the desk. Vera Spelton sat. She kept smiling.
Nobody spoke for a little while. Jack Spelton had stopped smoking. David Spelton sat folded up, his face turned aside. Neither of them looked at Vera Spelton. Vera Spelton didn’t look at them. She was smiling at something a long way off. Her hands were folded in her lap and the hands were still and she sat still. At last Jack Spelton said thickly:
‘She’s one of our hammers I reckon.’
‘Don’t touch the hammer,’ Gently said.
‘Wasn’t going to touch it,’ Jack Spelton said. ‘I was wondering where she’d got to.’
‘You didn’t tell us one was missing,’ Gently said.
‘No, I didn’t,’ Jack Spelton said. ‘That’s one of the old hammers, that is. Somebody hasn’t been using it fair.’
He closed his eyes.
‘She likes tools,’ he said.
David Spelton straightened, stared at the hammer.
‘She can use them too,’ Jack Spelton said. ‘I taught her that, how to use tools. You see these things. She made them all. All the angles cut clean. She’s a clinker at using tools. I could take her on tomorrow.’
‘Oh shut up,’ David Spelton said.
‘Using tools,’ Jack Spelton said. ‘She’s got the feel for it. It’s in her. She loves wood, a bit of wood.’
‘Jack shut up shut up,’ David Spelton said.
‘She loves the yachts,’ Jack Spelton said. ‘You won’t tear her away from them, not the yachts, they’re everything to her. She can’t live without them.’
‘I’ll go mad, shut up,’ David Spelton said.
‘You see her sail one,’ Jack Spelton said.
David Spelton gave a cry, covered his eyes with his hands.
‘Dave taught her sailing,’ Jack Spelton said. ‘Dave’s the master one for that.’
He didn’t say anything else just then. He hadn’t opened his eyes this while. He sat as though staring at the hammer on the desk but without his eyes open, not moving.
‘How many knew?’ Gently said. ‘This isn’t evidence, doesn’t matter.’
David Spelton said through his teeth: ‘All of them knew, everybody.’
‘Lidney knew,’ Gently said.
‘Sid knew,’ David Spelton said.
‘Archer,’ Gently said.
‘He’d know,’ David Spelton said.
‘Suppose I’d charged one of them,’ Gently said.
David Spelton shook his head.
‘Tell me this,’ Gently said, ‘was she ever violent before?’
David Spelton moaned, rocked his shoulders. He lifted his head, looked at Gently.
‘Was she?’ Gently said.
David Spelton said: ‘Blame me.’
‘There’s no point in blaming anyone,’ Gently said.
‘Yes,’ David Spelton said, ‘because I’m to blame. She never hated anyone. She doesn’t know how to. I’m to blame. It’s my hate killed him. She heard me talk. She caught it off me. It was my hate saw him there, took that hammer, I struck the blow, I killed him. She’s gentle, wouldn’t hurt a fly. Don’t take her. Take me.’
‘You know that’s impossible,’ Gently said.
‘But it isn’t impossible,’ David Spelton said. ‘You thought I did it, you might have charged me too, you want justice, that is justice, I’m responsible, I’ll go with you.’
‘No,’ Gently said.
‘But why, why?’ David Spelton said. ‘Look at her. She’s not the violent one. I’m the violent one. I always have been.’
‘She can be violent,’ Gently said.
‘Only because of me,’ David Spelton said. ‘If I’m not here she’ll be all right, it’s me who’s the trouble, me who’s to blame.’
‘You’re to blame for anger, hatred,’ Gently said, ‘not for what’s been done, you’re not responsible for that. She’s not responsible either, we shan’t hold her responsible. But she’s a danger to others. We can’t pass it by.’
‘Through me she’s a danger,’ David Spelton said. ‘She’s all right on her own, look, she’s all right.’
‘No,’ Gently said, ‘I’ve seen her otherwise, perhaps you have too. She’ll have to go with me.’
Jack Spelton said: ‘She can’t be happy. Not away from us.’
‘She’ll be afraid,’ David Spelton said. ‘She must have us. She must.’
‘This is her life,’ Jack Spelton said, ‘all she knows, all she is, the three of us here, that’s V, she’ll die like a bird if she’s put in a cage. She’s happy here, always happy. She’s like one of them birds what chip in the reeds. Don’t take her away, give her to strangers. She wouldn’t last. Leave her here.’
‘It doesn’t rest with me,’ Gently said.
‘We’ll take care of her, watch her,’ Jack Spelton said. ‘Hull that hammer in the river, I’d have hulled it in if I’d found it. You can make up some yam about what happened. You don’t want to take her away.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Gently said, ‘I mean I’m sorry.’
‘That’d be the crime,’ Jack Spelton said.
‘She’ll maybe come back again,’ Gently said, ‘you’ll maybe get custody, it’ll all be considered.’
‘She wants the sun, the water,’ Jack Spelton said, ‘the boats. Where’s she going to get them?’
‘They won’t be unkind to her,’ Gently said.
‘Where’s she going to get us?’ Jack Spelton said.
Gently didn’t say anything. He looked at Vera Spelton. Vera Spelton had heard nothing. Where she was smiling was across the Sounds across the sandhills perhaps across the sea. She was very beautiful very young very like David Spelton. David Spelton was weeping. Vera Spelton smiled.
‘Do I,’ Jack Spelton said, ‘do I pack her some things?’
‘Some night things,’ Gently said. ‘They’ll let you know what to send later.’
‘I’ll go and do it,’ Jack Spelton said, ‘I’ll go and pack V’s things.’
He got up, knocked against the desk, steadied himself, went out.
* * *
When they arrived at the car they found Parfitt asleep. Jack Spelton was carrying a big fibre suitcase, a woollen cardigan, a raincoat. Vera Spel
ton was walking beside Gently. David Spelton came behind them. Vera Spelton had remained silent though both of her brothers had spoken to her. Gently carried the hammer wrapped in a newspaper. The time was between twelve and one o’clock. They met nobody. There was no traffic. There were no lights. The night was still. Parfitt woke, said:
‘Sorry sir. Must have got into a doze.’
Gently grunted, opened a door, stood aside, glanced at Vera Spelton. Vera Spelton slipped quietly into the car. When she’d got in it she sat rigidly. Parfitt saw the suitcase, jumped out smartly, unlocked the boot, stowed the suitcase. Nothing was said. The Speltons stood woodenly. Jack Spelton glanced towards the bridge. Gently laid the hammer on the seat, got in behind with Vera Spelton. Parfitt returned to the driver’s seat, slammed the door. The night air had an edge of chilliness. The stars were sharp, over-numerous. Gently closed his door, lowered the window.
Jack Spelton said: ‘We’ll, we’ll hear.’
‘You’ll be kept informed,’ Gently said. ‘You’ll be able to see her when you like.’
‘Yes. Yes, I reckon so,’ Jack Spelton said.
Parfitt started the engine.
‘Anything else?’ Gently said.
‘No,’ Jack Spelton said, ‘nothing else.’
‘We’ll get away,’ Gently said.
He closed the window. Parfitt let in the clutch. The car drove off. That was it.
* * *
And it was still fine weather on Sunday August 9th because of an anticyclone which remained stationary and would continue to remain stationary over the North Sea: a rare occurrence once in ten summers at or about August Bank Holiday happening this year this summer during these days this dying. Raising the night mists the early dew framing the white morning sun heating the ocean the reeded rivers the broads meres pulks deeks yachts wet-awninged tall-masted alder willow sweet briar banks mint-odoured flower-bosked and the white waterlily: all birds such as reed warblers reed pheasants the coughing bittern the musical swan the harsh harnser the flirting waterhen the sad coot: yellow black-trellised soaring swallowtails fragrant-winged drooping dragonflies damselflies skidding boatmen the bold water-walking arachnid: setting staring wide the day of these and many other things also leaving the twilight beautiful and the night prickling with stars: though he was this was now not so was other, though was still this.
Thus: Superintendent Gently returned to London having given the local police his expert advice and the case was referred considered adjourned reopened reconsidered appealed disposed. Of which matters Superintendent Gently heard nothing nor indeed attempted to hear anything though some of the details of the case would come to mind when it was fine summer weather.
Thus and thus.
Being an end.
