‘Was he never in trouble over his women?’
‘No. They are prostitutes. You know?’
Gently sucked some more on the empty pipe. Empton drove smoke towards the ceiling. His legs were stretched out by the desk, an expensive brogue by an expensive brogue. The street below was stirring a little. The clock said ten minutes to one. Felling appeared to be still perspiring, since he had just wiped his face again.
Gently said: ‘Have you any knowledge that Teodowicz was engaged in espionage?’
‘Esp’nage?’ Madsen looked puzzled.
‘That he was a spy, selling secret information.’
‘A spy? Oh, no… that is ver’ ridiculous! You cannot be thinking Tim was a spy.’
‘What makes you so positive?’
‘It is so unlikely! You do not know Tim at all. He is — what do you say? He want to forget it, to turn his back, to live quiet on his own. He don’ want to be mixed up with anything like that, it is ver’ ridiculous. You do not know him.’
‘Ha, ha,’ Empton said.
‘But yes, it is true,’ Madsen said. ‘He have all this trouble back in Poland, now he just want to live quiet.’
‘And that was your picture of him,’ Gently said. ‘Now he just wanted to live quiet.’
‘But yes. It is the same all the time I know him.’
‘Thank you,’ Gently said. ‘That’s all for the moment.’
The door closed.
Empton got up, stubbed the cigarette, flexed his hands.
‘Probably genuine,’ he said. ‘Lacked the savoir-faire of a professional. Teodowicz strung him along nicely with his I-want-to-be-alone act. Teodowicz was probably a useful man. A pity he put a foot wrong.’
‘I don’t know,’ Whitaker said. ‘I’m still as puzzled as I was before. There doesn’t seem anything to get a hold on, it’s shuttered up all round.’
Empton’s teeth. ‘We’re used to it, old man. It’s the view these cases always present. You get a murder happening out of the blue, no motive, no angles. Then you know what you’re up against and you begin to look in certain directions. The real break has been that limp. Your man did well to get Madsen to remember it.’
‘Felling’s my best man,’ Whitaker said. ‘But what do you want us to do now?’
‘Nothing whatever,’ Empton said. ‘There’s nothing further you can do. I’ll go back to town and pick up Kasimir and apply various forms of pressure. Then we will decide what we will decide. Some results may appear in the morning paper.’
‘Well,’ Whitaker said, ‘it’s beyond me. And you apparently know how to handle it.’
‘Leave it at that,’ Empton said. ‘As of now it’s our pigeon.’
He took hold of the briefcase. He looked squarely at Gently.
‘And what’s your theory, old man,’ he asked.
Gently shrugged. ‘I don’t have a theory. I’m only here to make up the party.’
‘You still think it’s one of your amateur killings?’
‘I’m only at the stage of collecting facts.’
‘It’ll be a labour of love, old man, I think.’
‘Taxpayers’ money,’ Gently said.
Empton’s teeth. Then he shook hands. He had a curiously unsubstantial grasp. Whitaker went with him down the stairs and stood a moment chatting in the doorway. Gently rose and moved over to the window. He saw Empton walk swingingly across to his car. It was a Jaguar coupe enamelled red and probably of a mark number known to the enthusiast. Empton slid into it and surged away. Whitaker came back up the stairs. Gently moved back to the desk to reclaim his pipe and his trilby.
‘Are you driving back too?’ Whitaker asked.
Gently shook his head. ‘Just going to lunch. I’d like to have Felling show me round this afternoon — unless you have a back-log of amateur crimes.’
Whitaker chuckled. ‘No. You can have him. I just wondered if you thought it worthwhile to stay.’
‘Purely routine,’ Gently said. ‘And probably idle curiosity.’
Whitaker said: ‘I can’t get over that fellow. Are they all like that in the Special Branch?’
‘A few.’ Gently sucked his pipe. ‘It’s a split world,’ he said.
CHAPTER THREE
Offingham, OFFGMS. (A.S. Offa and ham, home). 16,129. Map 12 C5. Mkt. Sat. E.C. Weds. London 52, Northampton 37, Bedford 19, Leicester 57. 1 mile E. of A1. On R. Ound, crossed here by Med. bridge of 12 arches. Church St Lawrence Perp., carved oak roof; also St Olaf, Dec., traces of fan vaulting, painted screen. Traces of 12th c. priory near R. Med. house in Mkt. Pl. Inds: printing, furniture mfg., light elec. products. Centre of a considerable Agri. area and county town of Offgms.
Gently took Felling to lunch with him at Fullton’s Restaurant in the Market Place. The dining-room was on the first floor and looked across market stalls to St Lawrence’s. At lunchtime Offingham came out of its trance; in its small-town way it looked crowded. The pavements were busy. In the Market Place people stood eating fish-and- chips out of newspapers. Clerks, shopkeepers, businessmen crowded the tables in the restaurants. There was little motion of traffic. All the shops had their doors locked. A communal atmosphere pervaded the town; everyone turned out for lunch.
Gently ordered a mixed grill, Felling a modestly priced chop. At a word from Felling they had been found a secluded table at the very end of the range of windows. Gently said nothing until he had eaten and the sergeant took his cue from Gently. Felling was around forty. He was dark, had a ruddy complexion and humourless good- looks. He watched Gently as they ate. Gently looked out of the window. They had both ordered iced lager and it went down very well.
At the coffee Gently said: ‘Have you any ideas you haven’t put on record?’
Felling looked up sharply from his coffee, then back to it again.
‘What makes you say that, sir?’ he asked.
‘You’ve done the field work,’ Gently said. ‘You put into a report what you’re sure of. But you get hunches, too. It’s hunches I’m after.’
‘Don’t know if I’ve got any,’ Felling said. ‘It’s like the Super put it, it’s all shuttered up. There’s only Madsen you could really suspect, and he just wasn’t here. You can’t get round it.’
‘He couldn’t have worked it?’ Gently asked.
Felling shook his head positively. ‘Not unless he’s got a double sir. I gave the Clydebank lot a minute description. Then there’s the woman at the lodgings, sir — Madsen was a regular when he was that way. And they knew him at Mackenzie’s and the Govan Mills. He was the only prospect. I chased him hard.’
‘What was Teodowicz doing over the weekend?’
Felling twisted his mouth. ‘I wish I knew, sir. According to Madsen he was in the garage part of Sunday, messing about with his van or something. Madsen saw him last at tea-time. He was gone when Madsen came for his truck.’
‘Where was he in the morning?’
‘Madsen doesn’t know, sir. He was lying in to get his sleep up. He was driving on the night Friday-Saturday and was out on the booze Saturday night. He went round to the Blue Bowl to have his lunch, and when he came back, Teodowicz was in the garage.’
‘And Monday?’
Felling turned over his hand. ‘A blank, till he went into the Blue Bowl. I can’t even find where he had that meal. He only had coffee at the Blue Bowl.’
‘Yes… coffee. What was that meal again?’
‘Egg and chips. And perhaps some sort of gateaux.’
‘A cafe meal,’ Gently said.
‘But not from any cafe in Offingham, sir.’
