Entanglement by Zygmunt Miloszewski

to people to prevent any of them from coming to the most obvious conclusion: that he was the murderer?
    “I went into the classroom. I remember that I was feeling very scared, because the therapy was going to be about me this time. I had a glimmer of hope that without Henryk we’d have to postpone it, because there’d be too few people, you see. So I was scared, and in the first instance I didn’t notice him, I couldn’t stop thinking how I should place Hanna and Euzebiusz in the role of my children.”
    Mrs Jarczyk fell silent. Szacki did not push her.
    “I saw his legs,” she said at length. “I went closer and saw the body, and that skewer in his eye, and that was all. And when I realized what I was looking at, I started to tremble.”
    “Who came running first?”
    “Hanna.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes, I think I am. Then Mr Rudzki, and lastly Euzebiusz.”
    “Please tell me what happened when you were all standing over the body. Who said what, and how they behaved.”
    “If I’m being frank, the main thing I remember is that skewer sticking out of his eye. It was horrible. But the others? I don’t remember Hanna at all - she may have left the room very quickly. I think Euzebiusz checked Henryk’s pulse, and wanted to pull it out of his eye, but the doctor shouted that we mustn’t touch anything and that we should call the police, and we had to get out of there as soon as possible, because we’d destroy the evidence.”
    “Like an ace cop from an American thriller,” said Szacki, unable to deny himself a small comment.
    “Did we do the wrong thing?”
    “You did very well. Really.”
    The phone rang. He apologized to Jarczyk and picked up the receiver.

    “Hi, Teo. I didn’t want to come in because you’ve got a witness, but Pieszczoch got fifteen years.”
    “Excellent. How was the judgement?”
    “Superb. He didn’t reproach us for anything, in fact he repeated your wording from the indictment and closing speech to the cameras. You should claim royalties. There might not even be an appeal. Pieszczoch is a really horrid little shit, and in his lawyer’s place I’d be afraid he’d get a few years more on appeal.”
    Ewa was right. Pieszczoch had killed his wife with malice aforethought, out of totally unjustified hatred. It was a nasty domestic crime of the kind that not even the gutter press are interested in. A squalid one-room flat, an unemployed couple, tears, screaming and rows, then he’d banged her head against the corner of a cupboard instead of the usual slapping about the chops. For fifteen minutes without stopping. Even the pathologist was shocked. And that, in the opinion of the defence, was supposed to be “a beating with fatal consequences”. Good God, Szacki would rather sweep the streets that hire himself out as a mouthpiece in criminal cases.
    “Thanks, Ewa. I owe you coffee.”
    “Take me to bed?”
    He stifled a smile.
    “I’ve got to go. Bye.”
    Jarczyk’s gaze was wandering around the room. There was nothing of interest in there, apart from the view of the grey Ministry of Agriculture building outside. There were some funny children’s drawings above Ala’s desk, and next to Szacki’s there was just a calendar with pictures of the Tatras and Sztaundynger’s words in a frame: “Whether the wind blows from far or near, the breath of the Tatras is always here”.
    “What do you think - which of your group murdered him?” he asked.
    The question surprised her.

    “I don’t know. I have no idea. I just found the body.”
    “I see. But if you had to single out one person, who would it be? Please trust your instincts. I’m asking off the record - there certainly won’t be any consequences. After all, you observed those people for two days almost non-stop.”
    Barbara Jarczyk adjusted her glasses. She sat very still, without looking at Szacki, but at some point on the wall behind him. Finally, without turning her head, she said: “At the session Euzebiusz