The Trouble With Harry (7 page)

The sun lay low across the heath when Captain Wiles and Sam arrived with their spades. The bracken and the shrubbery cast long shadows and small rabbits started in the short grass and quickly hopped back to cover.

Peering into the heart of the rhododendron, the captain said: ‘He seems comfortable, Sam. Very comfortable and snug.’

Sam said: ‘We’d better find a place to bury him and get it dug. The sooner he’s underground the better.’

‘If what you’ve been telling me is right,’ the captain remarked, ‘I agree with you, Sammy.’

They walked the heath looking for a lonely and secluded spot where the earth was soft for digging. Sam led the way into bracken that stood higher than the rest, thick and above their heads. The little captain stumbled after him, picking his feet through bramble and ducking his head under the coarse vegetation.

‘This looks a good place,’ said Sam, stooping.

They surveyed the prospective graveyard. It was completely enclosed by the bracken and overlooked only by the sky. It was almost as gloomy here as it had been under the rhododendron. The ground was a soft bed of black leaf mould.

‘Seems too nice a place to bury a bloke like that,’ Captain Wiles whispered. ‘Wouldn’t mind being buried here meself.’

‘One at a time, please,’ Sam whispered, taking off his jacket.

The captain watched him while he began clearing the leaf mould away with his spade. Suddenly conscious of his audience Sam looked up at him. ‘Well, come on – off with your coat.’

‘What, me?’

‘Yes, of course – it’s your body.’

They dug. They dug and they sweated. They dug violently and silently and the damp, black mould came up in heavy clods. Gradually, very gradually, they worked their way into an oblong hole, casting up a tremendous pile of earth on either side.

Soon the captain was having to manoeuvre his spadeful of earth up and over his shoulder. He worked gamely on till it was no longer possible. Then with a last despairing heave he flung the spade out of the hole and collapsed against the earth wall.

‘What’s the trouble?’ Sam asked, through a curtain of perspiration.

‘Dead beat,’ said the captain, panting.

‘Good,’ Sam said. ‘I was dead beat ten minutes ago, but I wanted to keep on till your last gasp.’

The captain tried to climb out but only succeeded in fetching a lot of earth back into the hole.

‘Don’t do that,’ Sam said, ‘Or you’ll get your wish and be buried here yourself. Here, I’ll give you a hand up.’

Sam took Captain Wiles by the seat of his pants and hoisted him out, then followed up himself. They
stood looking down into the hole and it was big and deep and black, smelling strongly of earth.

‘Fair gives me the creeps,’ said the captain.

‘Let’s go and call for Harry then,’ Sam said, leading the way back through the bracken.

They carried the body of Harry between them and it was as stiff as a plank. Sam took the head and shoulders and the captain the bare feet. They got it into the bracken as soon as they could for fear of meeting somebody who might wonder what they were doing.

The journey from the rhododendron to the grave, which was no more than fifty yards as the crow flies, seemed to take a small eternity, for it was no easy matter to push the bracken aside with the head, keep the feet clear of brambles, and at the same time hold the body securely. And when at last they lowered the corpse into the grave it was, in that grim spot, almost dark.

‘After this,’ Sam remarked, as they straightened their backs, ‘if you must kill, stick to rabbits. The corpse is smaller.’

Captain Wiles, who had begun to push the earth
over Harry’s face, suddenly swung around and cried: ‘Rabbits! I didn’t tell you, did I, Sammy? I shot a flipping rabbit this afternoon. Killed it stone dead.’

‘Don’t shout,’ Sam cautioned. ‘I know you did. I was with Jennifer when Abie took it round to you.’

‘Jennifer, eh?’ said the captain, helping to cover up the body. ‘You didn’t waste much time, did you? Still, I don’t blame you. A very nice widow she’ll make, I don’t doubt. Very nice indeed.’

‘Let’s talk about that when we’ve finished burying Harry, shall we?’ Sam said, as Harry’s face vanished beneath the soil.

‘No need to get huffy,’ said the captain. ‘I don’t want to talk about your affairs – I’ve got affairs of my own.’

Sam slung a glance at him. ‘You mean my protégée?’

‘Come again,’ said the captain.

‘Miss Graveley,’ said Sam. ‘The lady I renovated down at Mrs Wiggs’ this afternoon. A most remarkable reversion to femininity, that.’

The captain stopped digging and leant on his spade. ‘I don’t quite get you, Sammy boy.’

Sam also leant on his spade. They faced each other across the gloom of the grave. ‘She came down to the Emporium in high excitement,’ he said. ‘Wanted ribbon for her hair and a new cup and all kinds of things. I gave her a little make-up and a new hairstyle – don’t say you didn’t notice?’

The captain scratched his chin. ‘Funny,’ he said, reflectively. ‘I must have had what they call a preview, Sammy. When I saw her on the heath this afternoon – that was just after I’d shot Harry – I wasn’t struck by her femin – feminit – what you said; but when I got to thinking about her later on I saw her just the way she was when I went to tea.’

‘I think that’s significant,’ Sam said.

‘She’s a very nice lady, Sam.
Very
nice.’

‘We’re all nice,’ Sam said, resuming his digging. ‘I don’t see how anyone could fail to like us.’

‘That’s the way I feel today, Sammy.’ Captain Wiles fell to with fresh energy. ‘I don’t know if I’ve grown rose-coloured glasses or if—’

‘Or if it’s love,’ said Sam, whacking the earth down on Harry with the back of the spade.

‘What did Jennifer think of my shooting?’ the
captain asked, smoothing the ground level and raking dead bracken over it.

‘You mean Mrs Rogers?’ Sam corrected him.

‘I don’t know about Mrs Rogers,’ said the captain. ‘I reckon I can count myself a friend of the family. I brought her a happy release with one bullet.’

‘One bullet?’ said Sam. ‘How about the hedgehog?’

‘One bullet for the hedgehog, one for the paper bag, and one for Harry,’ said the captain with dignity.

‘How about the rabbit?’ Sam enquired.

‘And one for the rab—’

Captain Wiles stopped short and Sam Marlow looked at him questioningly. The little man was standing with a stupid expression on his face, counting his fingers. Slowly he turned and his eyes were wide and incredulous.

‘What’s the matter?’ Sam asked.

The captain took up his spade and began removing the leaf mould from Harry’s grave.

‘Hey! What’s wrong? What’s bitten you?’ Sam demanded.

‘Three bullets I fired,’ muttered the captain. ‘Three. One for the hedgehog, one for the bag, one for the—’

‘The little man who’s lying in the grave,’ chanted Sam.

‘No, Sammy. That’s just it. One for the rabbit. I shot the rabbit. If I shot the rabbit I didn’t shoot Harry. What have you made me do, Sammy boy? Sam Marlow, you’ve made a murderer out of me.’ He was digging feverishly into the earth in search of Harry.

Sam sat down amongst the bracken and watched him. He felt there was little he could say.

‘Don’t sit there!’ the captain implored over his shoulder. ‘You helped to bury him.’

At last Sam said, reasonably: ‘Even if you didn’t kill him, why go digging him up now he’s nicely planted? I promised Jennifer we’d bury him and buried he must be. Besides, whether you killed him or not, you’ve incriminated yourself. You’ll have more of a job explaining away a body you buried and didn’t kill than a body you killed accidentally and buried. You’re not supposed to bury bodies when you find them. It makes people so suspicious. You should take them to the police or advertise or something.’

‘Oh, Sam, you don’t understand. You don’t
comprehend one little bit. You wouldn’t have me go all through my life not knowing if I’ve killed him or not?’

‘You’re being very inconsistent,’ Sam said. ‘First you tell me you have no conscience, then you talk of something that sounds remarkably like a conscience.’

‘Come and help me, Sammy,’ the captain pleaded. ‘I don’t care if I killed him or not, as far as that goes, but I’ll get the willies every time I see a policeman and it’s no good saying I won’t. You wouldn’t want me to go the rest of my life with the willies when it isn’t strictly necessary, would you?’

Sam shrugged. The captain cast him one miserable glance before ducking below the level of the ground.

Sam lit half of a cigarette and waited. Soon the captain’s head bobbed up again. ‘I’ve got one arm,’ he said. ‘Help me pull him out.’

Sam sighed and got up.

Presently Harry lay on the brink of his recent grave. He was little the worse for his brief interment it seemed, suffering only a quantity of black soil in his hair.

‘Strike a match,’ said the captain.

Sam struck a match.

‘Hold it over here, near the blood.’

Sam held the match near the forehead of the corpse.

‘This isn’t a bullet wound,’ exclaimed Captain Wiles. ‘It’s what they call a blow with a blunt instrument.’

Sam flicked the match away into the bracken and watched it go out. He puffed at his cigarette and inhaled, deeply, then blew the smoke at a persistent mosquito.

The captain watched him, for right at that moment he was feeling singularly lacking in self-confidence.

‘Sam?’ he said tentatively.

Sam raised an eyebrow.

‘What do you think, Sam?’ asked Captain Wiles.

‘I think, little man,’ said Sam, ‘that we are tangled in murder.’

‘If it’s murder,’ said Captain Wiles, ‘who done it?’

‘Who did it,’ Sam corrected.

‘That’s what I say. Who done it? Apart from Jennifer, who would want to kill him?’

‘Apart from Jennifer …’ Sam murmured.

The captain studied him. ‘You don’t think—’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Sam told him. ‘You said yourself she was surprised to find the body.’

‘You said she hit him on the head,’ the captain accused. ‘I’ve heard of a case where a bloke bumped his head on a brick wall and fell dead two days later.’

‘Probably knocked down by a bus,’ Sam said. ‘No, it wasn’t Jennifer. Look here, what does it matter who did it – he’ll be best buried and out of the way.’

‘I don’t think!’ said the captain. ‘I’m not burying someone else’s bad habits.’

‘Suppose it was Miss Graveley?’ Sam suggested.

The captain was silent for a moment, then he laughed and the sound of it went away through the bracken and came back as an echo.

‘It’s not as funny as all that,’ Sam said, ‘She didn’t seem particularly startled when she saw you dragging that body up the path.’

The captain shook his head at Sam. ‘You artists haven’t got no idea of etiquette. Miss Graveley is a lady of gentle manners and upbringing. A lady to hide her feelings. If I hadn’t been holding Harry by his ankles I don’t suppose she would have mentioned
him, even. When she said: “Been shooting?” it wasn’t no more than a pleasantry, so to speak, like saying “Nice day, I’m sure”, or something like that—’

‘Going to help me bury him again?’ Sam said. ‘It might have been Miss Graveley, or the tramp, or Mark Douglas, or Mrs D’Arcy, or—’

‘Jennifer,’ said the captain.

‘I’ve told you—’ Sam broke off and shrugged. ‘It’s not worth arguing about. Let’s get rid of him.’

The captain pushed Harry with his foot and the corpse rolled over the brink of the grave, dropping in the soft bottom with a dull thud. ‘There you are, then. I’ve done my share,’ he said.

Sam picked up a spade.

The sun went down and the moon came up like some ponderous juggling act. Sparrowswick Heath took on wonderful shades of copper and blue and silver under the four high corners of the sky.

Beneath the oak tree near the top of the woodland path Walter D'Arcy met Mrs Douglas. The little woman came to him with a question in her eyes and he took her walking into the bracken to answer it.

Soon Captain Albert Wiles, newly shaved and shone, came walking along with Miss Graveley. Now the captain was subdued, for he knew she was not
fooled and that if he had anything to say it would have to be sincere.

When they had vanished, Sam Marlow, Jennifer and Abie came out of the wood and strolled along the heath path like a little after-supper family. Jennifer wore a white linen dress with a scarlet belt, while Sam wore a clean cricket shirt and a pair of trousers with the suggestion of a crease in them. Abie stalked on ahead, using his stalkingest steps and peering bravely amongst the shadows.

Soon Abie came to where he had discovered the man with the blood on his face. He stopped.

‘What's the matter?' Sam asked, coming level with him.

‘It's where he found Harry,' Jennifer said. ‘Come along; don't let's be morbid.'

‘Get up, you brute!' said Abie.

His mother tugged at his shoulder. ‘Abie!'

‘Right!' said Abie reminiscently. ‘Now you've asked for it!'

They then walked on in silence, for the memory of Harry had thrown a little gloom over them.

‘I wonder why Abie said that, just at that particular spot,' remarked Sam.

Jennifer did not wonder anything at all, for she was admiring the tangerine moon and what it did to the earth and the sky.

‘Abie,' said Sam presently.

‘Yes, Marlow?' said Abie.

‘Call him Sam,' his mother commanded, coming out of her reverie.

‘Yes, Sam?' said Abie obediently.

‘Who said: “Get up, you brute”?'

‘The lady in the lovers' nest,' said Abie promptly.

‘What is a lovers' nest?' asked Sam, considerably puzzled.

Jennifer broke in at that stage and she sounded embarrassed. ‘I told him that,' she confessed. ‘He came home the other day and said he'd seen … er … certain neighbours of ours sitting together in the bracken.'

‘Lying, Mummy,' said Abie.

‘I see,' said Sam. ‘And who was this lady in the lovers' nest, Abie? The one who said “Get up, you brute”?'

‘I don't know,' Abie said.

‘Where was this nest?' Sam asked.

Abie stopped and pointed back the way they had come.

Sam turned and began retracting his steps. ‘Come and show me,' he said. They walked until they came to where Harry had lain. ‘Was it here?' Sam said.

Abie nodded emphatically. Sam looked at Jennifer, but she seemed not a bit interested.

She said: ‘He means the other day.'

‘I'm not so sure,' Sam said. ‘When did you see this lovers' nest?' he asked Abie.

‘The other day,' said Abie.

‘
This
one?' Sam said.

‘Tomorrow,' Abie said, after consideration.

Jennifer laughed. ‘You'll never make sense out of Abie; he's got his own timing and it's nothing like Greenwich. Anyway, why not let sleeping toads lie?'

‘Now that we know the captain didn't do it,' Sam said, ‘wouldn't you like to know who did?'

‘Why look a gift horse or something in the mouth?' Jennifer said, glancing around to recapture the moon.

‘Look, Abie,' said Sam, turning to the little boy. ‘When the lady said what she said, where exactly was she?'

‘In the lovers' nest.'

‘And where is the lovers' nest?'

‘Here,' said Abie, pointing down to the trampled grass and bracken.

‘And when was it?'

Abie hesitated over this. ‘Soon,' he said at last.

‘What did the man say?' Sam asked, undismayed.

‘Right, now you've asked for it!' said Abie.

‘And where was the man—'

‘
Sam!
' said Jennifer impatiently. ‘For heaven's sake!'

Sam waved her aside and repeated his question.

‘In the lovers' nest,' said Abie, speaking as if taking part in some parlour game.

‘And where is the lovers' nest?'

‘Just here,' said Abie.

‘And what were you doing?' Sam said.

‘Lying down,' said Abie.

‘Why?' asked Sam.

‘The new captain was shooting at me,' Abie said, proudly.

‘And where did you find the rabbit?'

Abie looked around, then pointed along the path. ‘Just down there.'

‘And which did you find first, the man or the rabbit?'

‘The man,' said Abie, ‘but I couldn't pick him up.'

Jennifer started walking away. ‘Come on. I don't like this spot.'

‘Just a minute,' Sam said. He walked a little way into the bracken and Jennifer watched him. He could see it had been beaten down, but it was too dark to see very much else. He struck a match and before shining it in front of him he lit a half of a cigarette. When the match had illuminated the beaten-down bracken he said: ‘Come here, Jennifer.'

The young woman came and stood by his side, looking down at the ground. ‘Seems as though he put up a fight. I wonder why,' she commented.

Sam held the dwindling light between their faces. Through the flame he said: ‘It looks as though
someone
put up a fight.'

Jennifer thought about that for a little while and the match went out. ‘You mean – you think he was with a … companion? A woman?'

‘Could be,' Sam said.

‘I think perhaps you're right,' Jennifer said, leading
the way back to where Abie was guarding the path. ‘Harry was in a most peculiar mood when I saw him last.'

‘Would you say frustrated?'

‘I think you might call it that,' Jennifer said.

When Sam Marlow, Jennifer and Abie walked away, Mark Douglas and Mrs D'Arcy came out from behind a tree. They stood viewing the pocket of broken bracken for a moment and the blonde said: ‘What on
earth
was all that about?'

Mark Douglas said: ‘They seemed to be making a mystery out of this patch of bracken.'

The blonde giggled. ‘But how incredibly juvenile!'