“I spent a week visiting the buildings of this pleasant establishment in the company of Timothy and a certain Mr. Ned Linnen, a teacher. He showed us the schoolrooms, the refectory, several bedrooms, and the extensive playing fields. Wherever we went, Timothy was introduced to students, masters, and occasionally a guardian, most of whom greeted him with benign curiosity. When I left him, I promised to come back whenever he requested it. I kept my promise. As the years passed, his requests came less and less frequently. I last saw him on his eleventh birthday.
“Soon after that I went back to Seattle, and while there, one year I went on a tour of the Far East during my summer vacation. I happened to visit New Bentwick, because a feminist companion told me there were ‘interesting developments’ going on there. I still don’t know what she meant, but since I met Geoffrey almost as soon as I got off the boat, I didn’t care, and a visit that was meant to last a few days — well, there’s still no end in sight.”
I asked her, “And Shanks?”
“The day after we left, I let him know by phone I wasn’t coming back. He couldn’t believe it. When I settled down in York, where I’d been studying, I wrote him a letter, in the manner of a case history of his life, as if written by a social investigator or a police officer. All cool, objective description. No judgments, no comments. It worked. He was mortified, wrecked. He still is. He begged me to see him. He’s still doing it. I have a very happy life, except for one thing. He found out where I’d gone and followed me here. I’ve made sure he never gets near me. He lives alone, he survives doing menial jobs. I don’t care. I don’t want to hear about him.”
Andreas: “How can you possibly be sure he won’t bother you?”
“As soon as I learned he was here, I went to Father Murgatroyd, our Anglican priest. When I told him Shanks’s history, he agreed to act as intermediary. An indictment, which has not been served, an indictment of Shanks for extreme child abuse, would, if activated, benefit from the testimony of the hospital staff and several dependable neighbors. Through Father Murgatroyd, I conveyed to Mr. Shanks that if he ever approached me I would denounce him in this country, he would then be extradited to the UK for arrest and trial. He told the priest that he accepted my conditions, that he was content to stay here, out of my sight, in the hope that I might one day forgive him.”
I said, “You’re divorced?”
“I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’d kicked him out of my life. I’d taken his son away from him. He’s living in penury. Divorce feels like one humiliation too many.”
The telephone rang. Geoffrey, nearest to it, picked up. He turned back to us to announce the imminent arrival of Captain Kipper and Sergeant Kerr. “It seems something rather grisly has happened.”
“Exit, pursued by a bear?”
“I’m afraid, Andreas, that they are not in a punning mood. Charley Kipper said that New Bentwick has at last recorded—a murder.”
The two men soon appeared, haggard, and of somber mien. Margot said, “You’ve not had dinner!” and disappeared toward the kitchen. After two double whiskies, rapidly dispatched, bowls of hot broth were set before the new guests, soon followed by plates of cold meat and a bottle of red wine. They addressed their dinner with little relish. A first few sips of wine helped them get started.
Captain Kipper: “What you’re about to hear may be hard to stomach. Sergeant Kerr, please tell our friends what you first witnessed.”
“Certainly, sir. I remember the whole beginning — it was a seesaw of the right throbs and the wrong. I was strolling along the shore on a routine patrol, just past the town on the north side. It was pleasant walking at that hour, a lovely late afternoon with a quiet sea to my left and to my right a familiar countryside bathed in the mild light of Indian summer. Around five o’clock, just when the first shadows from the hills were darkening the waterfront, I saw at a distance two men coming towards me. I was able to identify Paul, one of the twins you’re all so interested in.”
Captain Kipper: “You’re sure it was Paul, Sergeant?”
“It was the way he was manhandling his companion, almost dragging him along. I couldn’t see John doing that. But Paul — you remember when we had to bring him in and scare him a little for taking his fists to one of his Arab workers?
“It took me a while to place the other man. He was an older fellow in his fifties, a poor sad bloke who goes by the name of Shanks — by his family name, strange as that may seem. Mr. Shanks kept shrinking from Paul the twin, who was holding him fast by his right arm and waving something at his head that I apprehended might be a pistol, and that indeed it was, as I clearly saw when they had drawn closer. I then turned round and without actually running I hastened as fast as I might —”
Charley Kipper intervened: “You may not know this, our men never carry firearms on their daily patrols. They are under strictest orders never to challenge an armed suspect whatever the circumstances. If Sergeant Kerr had intervened at any moment during the events that followed, he would have probably been deprived of his rank.”
Alastair Kerr: “I knew the rule, and I also had not
