‘Oh, forget the act,’ Empton said. ‘If you play ball, you won’t get hurt. We’re calling the tricks now, Madsen, you’d better get that fixed in your head. Who’s the contact?’
‘I don’ know-’
‘Answer the question!’
‘I tell you-’
‘You’ll tell us a lot of lies, no doubt.’
‘It is the truth — I just don’ know!’
‘Very well then,’ Empton said. ‘Play it your way if you like, Madsen. Teodowicz made the same mistake. An operator only makes it once.’
‘I’m telling you everything!’ Madsen cried. ‘I am trying to help. What else can I do? You ask me these questions which don’ mean nothing, what can I say? I didn’ kill Tim!’
‘But you know who did,’ Empton said.
‘I don’. I was not anywhere here.’
‘You were in the garage when the man walked in.’
‘The garage?’ Madsen stared a moment. ‘I saw that man, yes, I said so — I tell you everything I know about that man. All the questions I answer about him. And it is true — he did come in.’
‘Oh, he came in all right,’ Empton said. ‘And you know his name, don’t you, Madsen?’
‘But I did not speak to him at all!’
Empton let his teeth show.
‘Let’s see how truthful you are,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a test for you here, Madsen. The man you know about is in this stack of photographs. We know which one — now let’s see if you do.’
He handed the photographs over the desk. Madsen took them from him uncertainly. He raised his eyes to look at Empton, dropped them quickly, began to fumble the photographs. Empton’s eyes stayed fixed on Madsen’s face. Madsen’s fingers were big and clumsy. The photographs showed a number of men who appeared to be of un- English extraction.
‘Take your time, Madsen,’ Empton said. ‘You may find some other friends of yours.’
‘No,’ Madsen said. ‘I don’ know them. I don’ know any of these men.’
‘You surprise me,’ Empton said. ‘Don’t you have any friends, Madsen?’
‘I’ve got some friends,’ Madsen said.
‘Well, well,’ Empton said softly.
Madsen came to the end of the stack.
‘It isn’ no good,’ he said. ‘I don’ know them.’
‘Can’t you have a stab at it?’ Empton said. ‘Look better that way, wouldn’t it, Madsen?’
‘I didn’ see that man properly,’ Madsen said.
‘Couldn’t you take a chance?’ Empton said.
Madsen laid the stack on the desk. His mouth was tight, turned down at the corners.
‘Perhaps I made a mistake,’ Empton said. ‘Perhaps he wasn’t in that pack after all, Madsen. Maybe he’s still back here in the envelope. I’ll play the cards. You call.’
He picked up the envelope the pack had come from, took out another photograph, threw it on the desk. Madsen eyed it, made no motion. Empton threw down another, and another. Then he stopped. Madsen had bent forward. The Kasimir photograph had appeared.
‘Your call,’ Empton murmured.
‘That one,’ Madsen said. ‘Perhaps that could be him.’
Empton smoked: a straw-coloured tube containing a grey and pungent tobacco; leaning far back in his chair and letting the smoke arise from his mouth. He took no notice while Gently was putting his few routine questions to Madsen. He had packed his papers in the briefcase and stood the case on the desk. Whitaker, on the other hand, was giving his attention to the questions. He had his back half-turned to Empton as though the better to observe the interchange. Felling continued by the door. He was also watching and listening keenly.
‘How long had you known Teodowicz?’ Gently asked.
Madsen’s smiles were beginning to return. They were not deliberate, not insincere, but seemed to well up in him like a sunny child’s. You looked at him, spoke to him, and he smiled.
‘It will be over six years, I think, now… I knew him when he drove for GUS, then I used to meet him on the road. And when I told him about my money he said, buy a truck and join him here. So that is what I did with my money, and we have a ver’ good business.’
‘You were good friends with him?’
‘Oh, yes. Good friends.’
‘You spent your free time together?’
‘Yes, when we were off together. But I am in Plymouth sometimes, say, and he is in Norwich or Glasgow, like that. We do not see ver’ much of each other, just in the weekends, perhaps.
‘What did you do when you were off together?’
‘Oh, we have a drink, have a meal. Go to the pictures, pick up two women. We don’ do anything ver’ special.’
‘Was Teodowicz fond of women?’
‘Oh, yes, he liked the women. Wherever he goes he pick one up.. you know. Not particular.’
‘But wasn’t there one special woman?’
‘No, Tim liked them all. He only want the one thing from them — then mm, mm! Goodbye.’
‘What about men. Did he mix with them?’
‘Oh, other drivers he talk to.’
‘Did he have any special men friends?’
‘No, he like the ladies best.’
‘Did he have any men friends at all?’
Madsen thought. ‘No, not really friends. I don’ think he get on so well with the men. He don’ talk so much, don’ laugh and joke.’
‘No Polish friends he used to see?’
‘No, he would not talk to a Pole. He say he want to forget Poland, he is ver’ unhappy back there.’
‘Did he talk about that?’
‘He tell me they would hang him if he went back. Something he did in the war-time, selling things. You know.’
‘Anything else?’
‘No, nothing else.’
‘Not about them trying to make him go back?’
‘Nothing about that at all. He never talk about himself much.’
‘After this man had been to visit him — didn’t you ask him what it was about? You were partners, and good friends. Surely something must have been said.’
Madsen’s smiling was embarrassed. ‘Yes… you know… I do mention it. Tim wouldn’ speak to a Pole as a rule, this one he take upstairs and have a chat with. So I mention something.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Oh, he say forget about it. It was just somebody passing through who stop by for a chat.’
‘Did that square with what you saw of him?’
Again the embarrassment. ‘I don’ know… At first he seem nervous, speak ver’ low… and Tim don’ say anything for a moment.’
‘Then?’
‘Then Tim give a shrug, say something quick to him in Polish. Then they go out of the garage and I hear them go up the steps to the flat.’
‘What happened when they came down?’
‘Oh, nothing at all. They are not saying anything. This man go straight out of the garage and Tim, he get out a cigar and light it.’
‘Do you know who wanted to kill Tim, Madsen?’
‘No. I don’ have any idea.’
