by Alan Hunter
‘Would it be Razek?’ Gently said.
‘That’s phenomenal,’ Empton said. ‘It could, it would be, and it is, my old friend Stephan Tadeusz Razek. Not just any Razek, you see. The full name is given here in the record. He came from Grodz. He was Sawney’s buddie. And he sent little Jan to talk to Teodowicz.’
‘Hmn,’ Gently said. ‘So what do you make of it?’
‘What I’ve always made of it,’ Empton said. ‘In my crazy boy-scout way. I think it was Razek who ordered the killing. I’m not sure why, it might have been personal, both of them coming from the same town. But I’m sure he ordered it, just as I’m sure he set up his old buddie as the fall-guy. He knew the ropes here at Huxford, and he’s not particularly a man of sentiment.’
‘Has it occurred to you,’ Gently said, ‘that Sawney may have been the source of Razek’s tip-off ?’
‘It has, old man,’ Empton said. ‘I do occasionally look all round my facts. But why should Sawney break up this racket by sticking Razek on to Teodowicz? The threat would have made Teodowicz toe the line, it didn’t need to go any further. No, I think Sawney is innocent there. I think Razek got on to his man independently. What really stumps me is the reason for the killing, unless, as I said, the motive was personal. But that isn’t terribly satisfying, old man. It may be for you, but it isn’t for me.’
‘It isn’t for me either,’ Gently said.
‘Cheers,’ Empton said. ‘Perhaps you know the motive?’
‘I don’t know the motive,’ Gently said. ‘But I’m picking up someone who certainly does.’
Empton was silent, then he said: ‘Not Madsen, surely?’
‘Madsen for one,’ Gently said. ‘He knows. And I’m hoping I’ll persuade him to talk very shortly. Would you care to come along to the station?’
‘Charmed, old man,’ Empton said. ‘You may need me to help with the persuasion.’
‘I’d like Campling and Brennan to come too,’ Gently said. ‘Would you mind handing me back to Campling?’
Campling came back. Gently said: ‘I think you should be present at Offingham HQ. We’re dealing with some business that relates to Sawney and which will probably be helpful to you. And I’d like Brennan right away. I’ve got some jobs for him to do. Tell him to bring his outfit with him and Sawney’s cards and a set of his dabs.’
‘You want Brennan to do something for you?’ Campling asked.
‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘I’ve a reason for asking.’
‘Well, that’s all right with me,’ Campling said. ‘I was just surprised that you wanted Brennan. We’ll come right along.’
‘Thank you,’ Gently said. He rang off. He stood up. ‘That’s all,’ he said. ‘We can pick up Mrs Lane on the way.’
Whitaker said: ‘I’m not quite with you.’
‘We’ll have a meal,’ Gently said. ‘Then we’ll talk.’
The early evening of Friday, August 16th. Coloured shadows taking a slant in the market place of Offingham. A man stripped to the waist sculling meditatively down the Ound. A man with a hose washing market refuse from the backs of the stalls, into a heap. Youths, girls, on the stroll. Cars parked near the pubs and cafés. Couples loitering on the towpath. Pensioners sitting with their pipes. Outside Police HQ, a number of cars, some with pressmen sitting in them. A straight shaft of blue smoke from the fish-and-chip van by the conveniences. Windows open very wide. Doors open. Fans turning. A soundless chalkline extending itself across the deeper blue of the sky. In its brick tower, dusty, hot, the Town Hall clock ticking boredly. Pigeons crooning by the clock, perched on tender pink feet. Pigeons dropping to run among the stalls. Large-eyed pigeons. Running pigeons. In the mortuary the body of a man who was not cremated or buried. A man with arms. A man with hands. A man with fingers and skin on the fingers. A man whose finger-skin was being printed by another man, who kept breathing in starts. While other men waited in other places to see what the finger-skin would print. All in the early evening of Friday. Night in Russia. Day in America.
Brennan went up the stairs at HQ, knocked on a door, went through the door. The room behind the door was Whitaker’s office and the room seemed crowded, so that Brennan hesitated. Then he went forward to the desk and placed on it an attaché case he had been carrying. He opened the case, took out a file, took two cards from the file. He handed the two cards to Gently. Gently was sitting behind the desk. Beside Gently were sitting Campling and Whitaker and beside Campling sat Empton. Felling stood to the left of Whitaker. Madsen and Wanda Lane sat facing the desk. The two detective-constables, Rice and Freeman, stood towards the door, behind Wanda Lane.
Brennan said: ‘These are the dabs, sir, and these are the ones we got at Huxford.’
Gently laid them side by side, looked from one to the other.
‘You’ve made a comparison?’ he asked.
‘I made a quick one,’ Brennan said. ‘I counted seven points of similarity, sir, using a four-inch pocket magnifier. I also measured the height of the subject and looked for the scar on the left knee.’
‘Did you find the scar?’ Gently asked.
‘Yes sir,’ Brennan said. ‘It’s Sawney all right.’
The others looked at the two cards. Empton had hold of them last. He brought out his nest of magnifiers, used the desk lamp, used pins as pointers. At last he brushed the pins away and pocketed the magnifiers with a shrug. Gently looked across at Felling.
‘Anything to tell us?’ he asked.
Felling’s heavy face was paled, he was clasping his hands behind his back.
‘It’s a bloody mystery to me, sir,’ he said. ‘That’s all I can say about that. I took his prints, Freeman was with me. Freeman knows I took his prints.’
Gently picked up another card. ‘Is this your signature here?’ he asked.
Felling glanced over the card. ‘Looks as though it might be mine,’ he said.
‘Yes, but is it?’ Gently said. ‘Take a good look at it and tell me.’
Felling took the card. His hand was unsteady. He didn’t seem to see what he was looking at. He handed it back.
‘Could be, sir. I’m not going to swear that it’s mine. Like I said, it’s a bloody mystery, but Freeman knows I took those prints.’
‘What you’re saying,’ Gently said, ‘is that someone switched this card for the genuine one? That someone had access to the blanks? That someone forged your signature accurately?’
‘Well, what else could it be?’ Felling said.
‘Between the time,’ Gently said, ‘when you took the prints, and the time you compared them with Teodowicz’s record?’
‘It must have been done,’ Felling said. ‘That’s the only explanation.’
Gently shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. There’s another explanation, Felling.’
‘Well, I don’t know what it is,’ Felling said. ‘I took his prints, I bloody know that.’
‘You also identified the body. With Madsen.’
Felling pulled his head back, didn’t say anything.
‘I can add to that,’ Gently said, ‘that somehow I didn’t get to hear of this cremation. And somehow Madsen’s prints were found in Teodowicz’s flat to support Madsen’s story about destroying the documents. That’s two sets of prints with something queer about them, two curious facts that need explaining. I could add some other pointers if I thought it worthwhile.’
‘What are you trying to get at,’ Felling said. ‘I could bring a case for defamation of character.’
‘That’s enough of that sort of talk, Felling,’ Whitaker said. ‘It stands out a mile, man. Your goose is cooked.’
‘It’s a lot of lies,’ Felling said. ‘He can’t prove a thing, sir.’
‘It’s self-evident!’ Whitaker snapped. ‘Shut your mouth, I’m bloody ashamed of you.’
‘I’m going to have my lawyer,’ Felling said.
Whitaker looked at Felling. Felling was silent.
‘Any comment?’ Gently said to Wanda.
Wanda
’s mouth was bitter. Her chin was lifted.
‘Or from you?’ Gently said to Madsen.
Madsen gave him a shrinking smile.
‘All right then,’ Gently said. ‘I’ll do the talking, since none of you seem to want to begin. And while I’m talking it may occur to you that there isn’t much point in keeping silent. Because I’m going to charge each one of you three with being an accessory to Sawney’s murder, and if you were accessories after the fact it’ll be up to you to convince me of it. You know the ropes. What you say after this may be taken down and used in evidence. Freeman, put a chair there for Felling.’
‘I don’t want your chair,’ Felling said.
‘Put one there all the same,’ Gently said. ‘Stand over in front of it, Felling, whether you sit or not.’
‘I’m not going over there,’ Felling said. ‘I’m not in this, it’s a bloody frame-up.’
‘Much more of it,’ Whitaker said, ‘and I’ll have you handcuffed. Get over there, Felling. Get in that chair.’
Felling lounged across to the chair, pretended to dust it, sat, sprawled his legs. He looked at Wanda. Wanda didn’t look at him. He looked at Madsen, Madsen dropped his eyes.
‘Now,’ Gently said. ‘This is a crime arising out of the racket at Huxford. Why it took this particular form of violence is something not quite clear. That doesn’t matter, from a prosecution viewpoint, we shall get a conviction just the same. But from another viewpoint it matters a great deal: from the viewpoint of political implication. Teodowicz is a Pole. He is a political refugee. He had received some overtures from the Polish authorities. It may be that as a result of threats from this quarter he took the course that he did take. If that’s the case, we want to know it. We want to expel the people responsible. We want to make representations to the Polish authorities to try to prevent the same thing happening again. And conversely, if the Polish authorities had an innocent part in this, we want to establish that, too. We need to know. And I’m pretty certain that one of you is able to tell us.’
He broke off, looked from one to another of them. Nobody volunteered to speak. Felling was staring at the ceiling, his lips formed in a noisless whistle. Wanda’s eyes bored at Gently. Madsen didn’t raise his head. Madsen was leaning forward out of the chair, his fair complexion flushed.
‘Very well,’ Gently said. ‘You probably still think I’m bluffing. So I’ll just run through the course of events to let you see where you all stand. Sawney and Teodowicz were operating a racket in stores stolen from Huxford. Sawney obtained possession of the stores by fraud and Teodowicz collected and disposed of them. You probably knew of this, Mrs Lane, but there is no evidence to implicate you. You, Madsen, certainly knew of it, and I think we shall be able to implicate you. And you, Felling, are self-evidently implicated. You knew of the racket. You were drawing a cut from it.’
‘Oh I was, was I?’ Felling said. ‘You’d better see if you can prove it, hadn’t you?’
‘Certainly,’ Gently said. ‘Why else were you part of this conspiracy to aid Teodowicz? There can be only one reason. Teodowicz had it in his power to inform on you. Because of that you took the risks which have put you in the position you now occupy.’ He picked up a paper from the desk. ‘How much do you have in your current account, Felling?’
‘To hell with my current account,’ Felling said.
‘You have over six hundred pounds,’ Gently said. ‘Would you care to explain where that came from?’
‘Why should I explain it?’ Felling said. ‘I can win a bit at racing sometimes, can’t I?’
‘Oh, just keep quiet, man,’ Whitaker said. ‘I used to credit you with some intelligence.’
‘It’s a bloody lie,’ Felling said. ‘And nobody’s going to make anything else of it.’
Wanda Lane said: ‘It’s the bloody truth. You make me sick. You blackmailed Tim.’
‘Shut up, you tart,’ Felling said.
Wanda turned her head to spit. She didn’t say anything else. Felling sat scowling at his fists. Sweat was shining on his face.
‘I’ll continue,’ Gently said. ‘Sawney was in a false position. It was Teodowicz who handled the money, Sawney who would have to answer the questions. Teodowicz was trying to squeeze Sawney. Sawney resisted. They quarrelled over it. Then Sawney threatened to do something which, as it turned out, became his death warrant.’ Gently looked at Madsen. ‘What was that thing, Madsen?’ he asked.
‘I don’ know,’ Madsen said, shivering. ‘I don’ know anything about all this.’
‘I think you do,’ Gently said. ‘I think you know more than anyone.’
‘No,’ Madsen said, ‘no. I don’ listen, I don’ hear nothing.’
‘I’ll jog your memory,’ Gently said. ‘Sawney threatened to talk to a certain Stephan Razek.’
Madsen dug his chin in his chest, wouldn’t look towards Gently.
‘Sawney knew Razek,’ Gently said, ‘when Razek was at Huxford during the war. Razek is at present on attachment in this country and somehow Sawney must have got to know about it. He threatened to tell Razek of Teodowicz’s whereabouts. On the surface this wasn’t a very serious threat. It led only to Teodowicz being approached and urged to return to Poland to stand trial. This sort of thing has happened before and there seems nothing particularly sinister about it. People have resisted these approaches and there have been few attempts at coercion. But with Teodowicz it was different. He met the threat with a savage crime. He engineered a disappearance for himself intended to prevent all further pursuit. It follows that such a course was necessary to him, and we know that he had planned it in outline beforehand. But we don’t know why. And we need to know it.’ Gently stared at Madsen. ‘Why?’ he asked.
‘No,’ Madsen said, ‘no!’ He squirmed in the chair, hunched over his knees.
‘Are you afraid?’ Gently said. ‘Is that it?’
‘I don’ know about Tim’s affairs!’ Madsen said.
Wanda Lane said: ‘Leave him alone. You don’t think Tim would tell him anything, do you?’
‘I don’t think he’d tell anyone anything,’ Gently said. ‘But Madsen knows. He had the opportunity to know.’
‘Tim told me,’ Wanda said. She glared at the men behind the desk. ‘But you bastards will never get it out of me. Not while Tim’s alive,’ she said.
‘Listen to the whore,’ Felling said.
‘You keep quiet!’ Whitaker snapped.
‘Bloody why should I?’ Felling said.
‘I should, old fellow,’ Empton said.
Felling was quiet. Nobody else said anything.
‘We come to the mechanics of it,’ Gently said. ‘Teodowicz had a Sten gun and ammunition from Huxford. I don’t think he obtained it with the intention of shooting Sawney, I think it was insurance against this factor we don’t know about. Perhaps you’ll tell us how long Teodowicz had it, Madsen?’
‘Yes,’ Madsen said. ‘That is right, for some time. Tim say he would like to have a weapon of some sort, Sawney say all right, he can fix him with a gun.’
‘How long ago?’
‘Oh, one, two years,’ Madsen said. ‘Tim like the gun, he is often playing with it.’
‘Did Tim say what the gun was for?’
Madsen shrank a little. ‘He don’ say that.’
‘So,’ Gently said, ‘Teodowicz had the gun, and he could easily arrange for Sawney to meet him. He had only to say he had some money for him for Sawney to come running. He rang him up, appointed a meeting in the car park behind Baddesley station. That was where he wanted Sawney’s van found when it was discovered that Sawney was missing. Then he rang the guardroom at Huxford and gave them an anonymous tip-off about Sawney, providing at once the reason for Sawney’s flight and grounds for suspecting Sawney of the crime to follow. He met Sawney, he killed or disabled him, exchanged clothes with him, drove him to the lay-by. There he inflicted such injuries on him with the gun that identification would be doubtful. He sent a final burst from bushes to suggest the v
an having been ambushed, then he escaped through the fields to The Raven, where his hiding place was prepared. About a mile distant, over the fields, a car was waiting for the final stage, but in the meantime he had to remain on the spot to ensure that his colleagues did their job. Mrs Lane was completely under his influence, but Felling and Madsen only under duress. He needed to be there as a perpetual threat to prevent any treachery on their part. He had also some loose ends to tidy. Some documents remained in his handwriting. He destroyed these without informing Felling, which gave Felling a little trouble later on. You didn’t burn those papers, did you, Madsen?’
‘That is right,’ Madsen said. ‘I don’ burn them.’
‘You lying bastard,’ Felling said. ‘You bloody know you did burn them.’
‘Why should he have burned them?’ Gently said. ‘Madsen didn’t have any tracks to cover. But Teodowicz did. And his handwriting was part of them. That’s how it was, wasn’t it, Madsen?’
‘The handwriting, I think so,’ Madsen said.
‘Because it wasn’t the handwriting of Teodowicz,’ Gently said. ‘There isn’t any Teodowicz. The real Teodowicz is dead. He disappeared way back in Poland, he never set foot outside that country.’
‘No,’ Madsen said. ‘I can’t say about that.’
‘Yes, but you can,’ Gently said. ‘You heard the threat Sawney made to Teodowicz. Sawney knew Teodowicz’s real identity.’
‘No.’ Madsen said. ‘No. No.’
‘Why don’t you stop getting at him?’ Wanda Lane said. ‘Tim had to burn those papers because they linked him with Sawney.’
Gently shook his head. ‘That’s ruled out,’ he said. ‘Felling saw the papers. He would have burned them himself if they had connected Teodowicz with Sawney.’
‘Felling is dumb.’
‘Shut your trap,’ Felling said.
‘Or he didn’t get a chance to burn them,’ Wanda said. ‘You’re crazy about Tim being somebody else. You’re guessing about it and you’re guessing wrong.’
