The weather turned bad at noon, just when the carpenter Ronald had decided to kill Mrs. Nimsdorf. The rain was light, and they didn’t take umbrellas. They set out along the stony path leading to the top of the hill. They didn’t talk, both sunk in their gloomy thoughts. After her husband’s death, Anneke Nimsdorf had fallen into depression and had repeatedly declared publicly that she didn’t want to live anymore. So Ronald didn’t feel particularly guilty that he was about to take her life.

A rotten bench had to be removed. For some unknown reason, the lady had insisted on accompanying Ronald. Otherwise, the two rarely spoke. The difference in their social status was too great. He did his carpentry work conscientiously, and she paid him well and on time. On the surface, everything between them seemed fine.

Anneke looked good in her simple green dress. Her thin waist was tightened with a wide leather belt. Her dark-blond, slightly reddish hair was braided and swayed like a pendulum with every step. Her wooden shoes tapped against the stones in a dull rhythm. Her sweet, freckled face, as usual lately, radiated immense boredom. She could not get over the loss of her husband, who had died before his time from tuberculosis.

The carpenter didn’t harbor ill feelings toward her and even found her physically attractive, but that didn’t lessen his determination to kill her.

A few years earlier, he had taken a loan from Mr. Nimsdorf in order to build himself a workshop. Unfortunately, however, the workshop had burned down in a fire, and he hadn’t managed to repay the loan. The death of Nimsdorf had given him hope that he wouldn’t have to pay, especially since Anneke apparently wasn’t aware of her husband’s business affairs, but ... a lawyer had muddied the waters. The bastard had urged her to dig into her husband’s documents. That meant there was a great danger the loan would come to light.

The plan was to hit her on the back of the head with the hammer, then roll her body down the slope. Everyone would think she had committed suicide. The chance that anyone might witness the murder was practically zero, because this land belonged to Anneke and no one ever set foot there. Well, someone might see him on the way out, but ... who would pay attention to that? After all, he often came to do repairs in the Nimsdorfs’ house.

Ronald wasn’t a malicious man — he was simply rough and practical by nature, and he had no fear of God because of the countless disappointments that had marked his life. He didn’t think it was such a great crime to kill a person who didn’t want to live anyway. At the same time, he did feel a little sorry for Anneke, who had always treated him kindly. This murder was predetermined by circumstance; it was a job that had to be done conscientiously. After all, she was a human being ... not an animal prepared for slaughter.

Anneke stopped by the rotten bench and touched it with her hand. Then she looked into the distance, where the river Drees peered out with its dark-blue waters through a veil of fine mist. The view was gloomy and somehow ominously majestic.

Ronald took the hammer out of the box and weighed it in his hand. A fine tool, which had served him faithfully for more than five years. Here was the right moment ... Arms crossed on her chest, she was gazing at the horizon and, naturally, had no idea that someone meant her harm. The carpenter told himself that what’s bad for one person is good for another — and swung the hammer...