The Tenement by Iain Crichton Smith Page B

screamed and no one heard her, not even the woman she had been visiting. Maybe it was because of the TVs that she hadn’t been heard.
    The policewoman supported her as she answered the questions. It was in fact the same policewoman as had brought Cooper the news about his wife. She was young and fair-haired. It was, it occurred to him, almost exactly a year before this incident that the policewoman had come to his door, but she had probably forgotten it now. The policewoman had rung the bell and made a cup of tea for him, he remembered that, after she had told him that his wife was dead. He couldn’t believe it and had burst out crying. It was the first time that he had cried in his life. His body had been racked by the most tremendous sobs.
    The spastic again said that she hoped that this wouldn’t get into the papers. The policewoman said that she would now take her down to the station, and then she would run her home in the car. She hadn’t seen him at all, the spastic said, he had put his hand on her clothes, but hadn’t succeeded … Cooper was disgusted. Imagine attacking a spastic. The man must be an animal: worse than an animal.
    Eventually he was left with the two policemen in the room where there was a photograph of his wife on the sideboard. She had been young when the photograph was taken and she was wearing a high white collar. There was also a photograph of the two of them with his brother, who had been over from America. That had been some years ago.
    The man with the Roman nose introduced himself as Detective Hutton. The one in the blue jersey was called Pierce.
    â€œNow then,” said Hutton, “if you could tell us what happened. In your own words. Take your time.” Hutton’s nose seemed to be sniffing at the air, as if seeking out clues. Pierce smiled at him, a slow genial smile.
    â€œI was watching football,” said Cooper, “and I went out.”
    â€œJust a moment,” Hutton interrupted, “why did you go out?” Pierce smiled, but seemed to approve of the question.
    â€œEngland had just scored and I was disgusted, so I went out for a breath of fresh air.”
    â€œA real fan,” said Pierce smiling.
    â€œYes. The Scottish team is rubbish,” said Cooper angrily. “Every year they tell us they’re going to win and every year they lose. Why don’t they keep their mouths shut?”
    â€œSo you went out into the close,” said Hutton, “leaving the TV on.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œI heard a scream.”
    â€œWhile you were standing in the close?”
    â€œThat’s right. And then I heard another one.”
    â€œI see. And?”
    â€œAnd then I saw,” Cooper concentrated, “a fellow coming out of the close and walking up the street.”
    â€œWhich direction?” said Pierce in his soft voice.
    â€œAway from the town. Towards the council houses.”
    â€œSo,” said Hutton, “Did you recognize him?”
    â€œNo, I didn’t recognize him. But I would know him again.”
    Immediately he had spoken Cooper wished he hadn’t been so definite. After all if he interfered in his affairs, this man might do him. Or his relatives might. Then again he might have to attend an official identification parade. Still he repeated, “I would recognize him.”
    â€œGood,” said Pierce. His lips set like a trap and for the first time Cooper realized that Pierce was the more dangerous man of the two policemen, the harder. He had heard stories of policemen, of course. Why, they might beat you up for no reason in the secrecy of the station.
    â€œHe had a scar on his face,” he said slowly.
    â€œAh,” said Pierce, looking at Hutton. “Which side of his face was towards you?”
    â€œThe left. No, the right,” said Cooper. “He was whistling and smiling. He smiled across at me.” He shivered.
    â€œMacDowell,” said