Entanglement by Zygmunt Miloszewski Page A

played the role of Henryk’s son. And that son, at least in Euzebiusz’s rendition, was dreadfully sad, but you could also see how much he’d been wronged by the father. And so I thought perhaps it was him, out of vengeance against his father, you see. That he had no love for him, or in general.”
    Only now did she look at Szacki, who couldn’t understand this at all. An adult man was supposed to have killed another guy because during therapy he had pretended to be his son who wasn’t loved enough? What nonsense.
    “I see,” he said. “Thank you very much.”
    She read the transcript carefully before signing it. Several times she pulled a face, but didn’t say anything. They said goodbye, and Szacki warned her that he would be sure to call her back again, maybe several times. Jarczyk was standing by the door when one more question occurred to him.
    “What did you feel when you found him?”
    “At first I was horrified, it was a dreadful sight. But once I’d calmed down I felt a sort of relief.”
    “Relief?”
    “Please don’t get me wrong. Henryk told us a lot about himself and about his family, and I…” she said, nervously locking her fingers as she searched for the right words, “I’ve never met anyone so unhappy. And I thought perhaps someone did him a service, because there really can’t be any worlds where Henryk could be worse off than here.”

     
    WITNESS INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT. Euzebiusz Kaim, born 14th July 1965, resident of Mehoffer Street, Warsaw, has secondary education, employed as a unit manager at HQ Marketing Polska.
     
    In Oleg’s opinion, rich, arrogant, and hell knows what he was doing in therapy. In Szacki’s opinion too. Next to this guy’s suit, the prosecutor’s smart outfit looked like a rag dug out of an Indian second-hand shop. Szacki could appreciate that, and he felt a stab of envy as Kaim sat down opposite him. He would never be able to afford clothes like that.
    Kaim wasn’t just superbly dressed. He was also muscular and tanned, as if he’d done nothing for the past three weeks but go running and play tennis on a beach in Crete. Despite his flat stomach and regular sessions at the pool, Szacki felt as pale and flabby as a worm from the nematode family. His ego was bolstered a bit by the thought that he was the representative of authority here, and this pretty boy might turn out to be a murderer.
    In a nice, manly voice, matter-of-fact and specific, without going over the top or omitting any details, Kaim made his statement. He remembered the scene with the corpse the same way as Jarczyk, but Szacki was interested in something else.
    “What sort of a person do you think Henryk Telak was?” he asked.
    “An unhappy one,” replied Kaim without a moment’s hesitation. “Very unhappy. I realize not everyone’s life works out, but he had exceptionally bad luck. I’m sure you know his daughter committed suicide.”
    Szacki confirmed that he did.
    “And do you know his son has a bad heart?”
    Szacki said he didn’t.
    “They found out about it six months after they buried Kasia, their daughter. Dreadful. I get slivers down the spine just
thinking about it. I’ve got a son of a similar age, and it makes me weak at the knees to imagine us going to get the results of routine tests and having the doctor say there’s something odd about them and they’ll have to be done again. And then… well, you know.”
    “So what exactly was the psychodrama like, in which you played Mr Telak’s son?”
    “I wouldn’t call it a psychodrama, it’s something far deeper, inexplicable. Magic. Cezary is sure to explain the theory to you, I’m not capable of that. It was the first time I’d taken part in a constellation and…” - he searched for the right term - “it’s an experience bordering on loss of consciousness. When Mr Telak arranged us all, I immediately felt bad. Very bad. And the longer I stood there, the worse it got and the less I felt like myself. OK, you’re