“Because he’s dead.”
One eye twitched. Samantha noticed he flexed his ankles. “Is he?” Spinsie asked.
“Yes. Very.”
“And it’s just him you’re here about?”
Hayes gestured to Samantha. She rattled off, “There were also Charles Denton, Michael Huffy, Frank Naylor, John Evie, Edward Walton, Louis Courtney, Phineas Brooks, Turner Maylen… Several others as well. An even dozen in all.”
Spinsie looked at her, surprised. “Well. I see why he keeps you around,” he said. “You’re his little encyclopedia, aren’t you.”
“I prefer to be called his assistant,” she said coldly.
“Yeah, I expect you do.” He handled the sketch, tilting it back and forth. “And you think I ran him?” he asked Hayes.
“Yes,” Hayes said.
“Why?”
“Because he was involved in smuggling, and you were always a genius with the docks. With water landings, with shore-running. You could fool a port guard into carrying ammunition ashore in his mother’s valise. Distribution, I think you called it. I was demand, staying on shore. You tamed supply, at sea.”
“Until they chained me up for it,” he said darkly.
“You can’t still be smarting about that, Spinsie.”
“It was seven years,” said Spinsie fiercely. “Seven fucking years.”
“I got you out, though. Even from the other side of the world, I got you out.”
“Yes. Yes, with your special connections. With your carte blanche, yes.”
“It wasn’t always easy for me, either,” Hayes pointed out. “I did my own time. You know that.”
“Not as long as me, though,” said Spinsie. “I suppose I had nothing to offer the mighty McNaughton.”
“Well, now. Here’s your chance. Offer me something of value and I may recommend you to my employers.”
Spinsie placed the sketch on the coffee table, glared briefly at Hayes, and then stared out through one of the dusty windows. Even though he called Hayes his little brother Samantha could see no kinship between them. She decided he was a man who called the world his brother, yet moved through it alone.
“Well?” Hayes said impatiently.
“If we’re going to talk business, I’d prefer if we do it over tea,” said Spinsie, and stood. “When’s the last time you had really good tea, Hayes?”
Hayes rolled his eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t really care.”
“You should,” Spinsie said. He walked into the kitchen. They could hear him clanking around the stove. “All proper Englishmen need an honest cup of tea every once in a while.”
“I’m not a proper Englishman,” Hayes shouted back.
“And you never will be if you keep this up.”
They listened to him rustle up some coal and start the stove. As he worked Spinsie spoke at great length about the type of tea, discussing its genealogy and how it had been won and purified in the colonial days. Samantha got the impression that he had not honestly spoken to anyone in some time.
“Sam,” Hayes said softly as Spinsie carried on talking.
“Yes?” she said.
“You pick up the reins,” he said. “When he comes back in.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because he likes you.”
“But surely I can’t-”
“He likes you more than me. He’s more likely to tell you anything than me, honest.”
She stammered and tried to protest, but Hayes shushed her and pointed to the kitchen. After several minutes Spinsie came in with the kettle steaming and dripping and said, “Tell me, Miss Samantha, how did you get tossed in with old Hayes?”
“I was assigned to him.”
“Assigned? Why?”
“I believe he had some issue organizing his work.”
Spinsie smiled and poured three cups of tea. “Yeah. That sounds about right. Hayes never was good by himself, were you, Hayes? He’d fall to pieces if he was by himself. He always likes having one or two other people working with him. And he always, always winds up getting them into trouble, eventually. Isn’t that so?”
Hayes blinked languidly as though he might not have heard any of it.
“Do you live alone, Mr. Spinsten?” Samantha asked.
“Well, no. Not alone, no,” he said hastily. “I have the cats, that’s something. There’s a logging firm up the way, though I think they’re going out of business. I see them sometimes, though, on my walks.”
“It’s very pretty countryside here.”
“Yeah. I think so. Hilly. Lots of pines.”
“It’s much nicer than the ones I’ve seen recently,” Samantha said. “The man who died. We went to see his house. It was a tenement, actually.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. It was one of the most deplorable places I’ve ever seen in my life. He had a son, you know. He raised him there. Taught him how to read, a little. But we don’t know where the boy is. Wherever he is, I suspect he’s alone, too.”
Spinsie finished pouring and made sure everyone had a cup and a saucer. Hayes set his tea down on a nearby table and ignored it.
“Are you sure you never met the man, Mr. Spinsten?” Samantha asked.
“I never said I never met him,” he said, almost sulkily.
“So you did meet him?”
Spinsie was quiet for a long while, cradling the tea in his hands. “I don’t do much out here,” he said. “It’s retirement, you’re not supposed to do much, but sometimes I get bored. And every once in a while someone comes to me with a job. About twice a year or so. I’m not sure how they get my name or find out how to get ahold of me. I guess word just gets around.” He took a sip. “I take some of them,” he said. “I mean, who wouldn’t? It’s not because I need the money. It’s just…”
“A distraction,” Samantha said.
“Yes! Yes, a distraction. That’s it, that’s the one. Everyone needs a hobby, you know. And I miss the old days sometimes. I miss the old bravado. The rush. They say when you’re done, you’re done, but if I was, well. I’d go mad, I think.
“A man came to me not long ago. About two months ago. Little man with a mustache. Said his name was Colomb and he worked for someone very powerful in the city. Said he wasn’t a rich man, per se, but he had money he could spread around and he needed me to do a job. ‘A job?’ says I, and I act all interested. He said there was something they needed brought in. Naturally, I asked what, and he said he couldn’t tell me. Well, that wasn’t anything new, but old Spinsie doesn’t take a job unless he knows what he’s doing. I mean, what if it’s alive? What if it’s people? I knew a fella who got himself hung because he was smuggling women into Morocco and didn’t know it and a bunch of them died en route. One of the flaws of the game, I suppose.” He looked at Samantha very seriously. “I would never do anything to hurt a woman.”
“I believe you,” she said.
“I’m not like some people,” he said, shooting a glance at Hayes, who again ignored it.
“So, I told him I wouldn’t take it,” Spinsie continued. “Spinsie has rules. There’s things he does and things he doesn’t. After a bit of bargaining the man caves and he says the thing I’ll be handling is going to be ‘technology’ and I kindly ask him exactly what in the hell he means by that. He tells me they can get ahold of some very important McNaughton machinery, and they plan on holding it hostage. Maybe selling it to someone else. I’m sure you both are used to that sort of thing.”
“No, I’m afraid I’m not,” Samantha said.
“Oh. You, little brother?”
Hayes smiled slightly as though if he was he would never admit to it, perhaps out of professional modesty.
“Well,” Spinsie said. “Anyways. I got a bit concerned at that. Interfering with McNaughton business, that’s a little big. It’d be like walking up and putting a finger in God’s eye. But, you know, after a while I started to like the idea. I liked the idea of Spinsie pulling one over on McNaughton. David and Goliath sort of thing, and it’d put a bit of youth in my chest. And just maybe old Spinsie would see his little comrade again. If he tangled with McNaughton’s people, you see. And here you are,” he said softly. “Here you are, little brother.”
He thought for a moment. Then he turned to Samantha and said, “I never wanted anyone to die.”