'The Killing of Gentle People' by Michel Henri (book club books .txt) 📕

two women officers were sitting.
“Becky; do they serve coffee in this bloody God forsaken place? l need one badly! If they do, make it a large strong one and l do not want a chipped mug, OK!”
The barmaid, who was standing at the bar listening to everything that was going on with the greatest of interest, reacted immediately to the request.
“Yes sir!” she shouted. “How would you like it?”
“Well, an efficient person! That’s unusual!” he muttered sarcastically:

“Black, no sugar. Make it large and strong. I need the fix.”
The barmaid disappeared into the back room to make the coffee. This was the chance l was waiting for. Quietly, l got up from my seat and slowly, not to draw attention to myself, walked across the room, keeping my eyes on the paper behind the whisky bottle on the bar.
The two women Police officers and the Inspector were deep in conversation. As l passed the bar l casually put my hand out and took the paper from behind the whisky bottle, then continuing my journey into the men’s wash room without stopping or hesitating for a moment.
Once inside the washroom l congratulated myself and entered one of the cubicles. Sitting on the closed seat l composed myself for a moment, then looked at the piece of paper my dear friend Heinz Stein had given me at the library.
The name and address of the next person l had to take retribution upon moved me to tears again. I was not crying, but tears fell from my eyes. I read the address repeatedly to memorise it. Then l tore the paper up into the tiniest of fragments and flushed them down the toilet pan. I made my exit from the washroom and was about to leave the Dumb Cow when a thought flashed through my mind. My pistol and the silencer were under the cushion of the chair l had been sitting on in the bar with the police officers.
“My God! l will have to go back in and retrieve them!” I said it aloud.
Shivers went up and down my spine and my wrecked body shuddered. Within a moment my face
was sweating at the thought of having to go back into the bar with the Inspector and the two officers
sitting opposite my table and chair, with the pistol and silencer secreted under the cushion. I took out my handkerchief and wiped my face clean, took a deep breath, and walked slowly back to my table without making eye contact with anyone. Getting to my seat l sat down facing the window, my body turned away from the officers at the other table.
The barmaid had noticed me as l sat down. She brought attention of my presence in the bar to the Inspector by saying in a loud voice:
“Did you have a nice sleep, my dear? Feel better now, do you?”
“Yes, fine! Thank you!”

I took a sip from my drink and closed my eyes again, faking sleep and hoping that she hadn’t brought me any unwanted attention from the officers.
“So did anything unusual happen around here this morning, barmaid? Excuse me! Did you hear me,
barmaid?” questioned the Inspector in a loud voice.
“Barmaid l might be, but my name happens to be Petra, Petra Schilling. It’s over the door if you care to look on the way out. And what’s yours then? And do you have any identification? Or have they done away with that courtesy?”
The barmaid’s tone was one of disrespect and lack of concern for the police force. She stood with her hands on her hips, waiting for an answer to come back from the Inspector.
“Ms Petra Schilling, landlady of The Dumb Cow: l will make a note of that! I am Chief Inspector Victor Mercedes from police headquarters. And yes, l do have identification, and so do these other officers. Once again and for the last time, l ask you, madam: did you see or hear anything unusual in or around this pigsty you call a wine bar this morning?”
“Sorry, Inspector! l didn’t know who you were. And l still haven’t seen any identification or any warrant cards from any of you.”
The two women officers and the Inspector stood up and held their warrant cards up in the air all at the same time.
“Inspector: how could l have know who you were? I am not a mind reader, l’m a barmaid.” She
wiped her face with her apron as she replied:
“Nothing unusual happened. Very quiet. Only the old man sitting over there. He is the only customer I have had all morning. That is until your people came in, and they haven’t spent a lot. Know what l mean, dear?”
The Police Inspector got up from his seat and walked over to my table.
“Have you been here all morning, old man?” he asked me.
I looked closely at the hard deep lines on his angry face.
“I think l know you, Inspector!” l said softly, looking closer at his face. The voice, the tone and the power of it: l knew this man. Yes, l knew this man. I knew him!

“I don’t bloody well care if you know me or not old man! I asked you a simple bloody question. Did you hear me, OR NOT?”
The Inspectors whisper turned into a shout.
“Damn it, old man! l asked you a question. Answer me!”
I shuddered at the tone of his voice. My hands started to shake: Yes, l knew this man very well. It will come back to me. I know this man!
“Yes, Inspector. I came in for a brandy. You see, l wasn’t feeling too good, and a little alcohol can give you back your legs when you are not well. In fact, Inspector, l have just woken up. I must have fallen to sleep. I feel much better now, thank you very much for asking. Yes that was very kind, I’m feeling fine now, thank you”
I mumbled on, thinking that it would change the direction from me to something or someone else. But the silly barmaid, with her loud interfering voice, had to have her penny’s worth and said:
“Well, you did go out for a while! Isn’t that right sir? You came back with the colour in your cheeks, didn’t you? l remember that well.”
“Oh yes, miss that’s right. It’s my mind you know! It plays tricks with me.”
The Inspector stood, legs apart, hands behind his big back. He was a big man, wearing a long thin black leather overcoat. As he stood in front of me my mind raced back to when l was a young man
in the Auschwitz-Birkenau killing camp in Poland. Salty tears ran down my face, l could not stop
them. They just streamed out of my eyes as l looked at this man’s big frame dressed in back leather.
Yes, l was sure l knew this man.
“Come on, old man! What’s wrong with you? Are you ill or something? Can we do anything for you? Maybe we should buy you another brandy?”
He asked the questions with a cruel smirk on his face.
“No thank you! And nothing’s wrong with me. I just thought we had met before; that’s all: Nothing is wrong with me, nothing. Do you hear me?”
The Inspector clenched his big fists and went on:
“When you were out for your walk: think carefully now, old man. Did you see or hear anything

unusual going on out there? Come on! Think old man! You can still think, can’t you? Or is your tiny brain haggled?”
“Out there!” l pointed out of the window the way a doddery old man would.
“No, nothing going on out there. Very few people about, very few cars driving about. So, sorry Inspector! l didn’t see anything at all unusual out there.”
I then stopped talking and started shaking as l suddenly realised:
“My God! I’m sitting on the pistol and silencer!”
Inspector Mercedes bent down and stared into my eyes. I could see his. Deep, dark, and evil, they were hiding his past. Yes l knew this man!
“Did you see anyone near the Fiveways Intersection?”
“Yes, l suppose l might have. Wait; yes, l did! There were a couple of strange looking people hanging around there. Yes that’s right, sir. I did! They were very strange. Yes that’s right! The Fiveways Intersection. Dear me, my mind is so bad! I am so sorry Inspector; please forgive this old man, my mind you know it’s...”
He lifted his leg and stamped his heavy foot on the chair next to mine.
“Look, old man! Tell me about them. Please take your time, because l have all the time in the world.” Then he shouted into my ear “l don’t think! Sergeant Gold come over here and take notes. And l want them word for word. Old man l want every bit of information you have. Do you understand me? And l want it now, not next week. NOW!”
I nodded my head and wiped my nose on the sleeve of my coat.
The Inspector sat back down in the chair, staring at me. I felt so very alone and uncomfortable; but l had been in this situation before. I felt like a child.
Sergeant Gold came over and sat down on the other chair opposite to me.
“Well, the Inspector said take your time, sir. But we need you to start talking now! Ok? My name is Sergeant Becky Gold. I will take down your statement. Then, when we have finished asking you questions, l will read your answers out loud and you will sign them. Do you understand?”
I looked up and, raising my voice for the first time, asked the barmaid:

“May l have another brandy, please?”
The Inspector quickly interjected “Old man. You will have nothing until you have finished your
statement. Not even a glass of water! Do you understand me? Now get started, or else I’ll have you arrested for wasting police time” The Inspector banged his hand on the table, hard.
“Yes, sorry! What did you want to know, because l seem to have forgotten what we were talking about, silly old man that l am.”
Sergeant Gold looked and sounded Jewish to me. This made me feel a little more relaxed. I don’t know why; kindred spirits, l suppose. Or was it more than that? She looked at me with gentleness in her eyes, a kind person full of empathy. Her eyes told me she knew things.
“What is your full name, please, sir?”
“Mr. Abraham Golden, Sergeant. I don’t know what all this fuss is about!”
“Look, Mr. Golden. Think carefully! What did you see at the Fiveways Intersection? Think! Go over it slowly in your mind. All we need are the details, maybe some of the details. What did you see when you were out there? Just think carefully!”
“Well, nothing Sergeant that l can remember, as l said to the Inspector. There were not many people about today, except for those two strange people. They were standing close and were talking together. That’s all l saw, that’s just about it.”
I was trying my hardest to play dumb, really dumb, hoping the police would get fed up questioning me and move away. Then there was the fact that l was sitting on my gun and silencer, so l had to sit
in my seat for as long as l could until they moved away.
“Sergeant, l wasn’t feeling very good, so l came in here for a brandy. That’s all! Then when l had
recuperated, l went out for a short walk