WHAT DID HE SEE, OUR SHY FRIEND IN THE PHONE BOX?
‘ARE YOU SURE IT’S CONFIDENTIAL LIKE IT SAYS IN THE PAPER?’ the caller asked, a man, his voice muffled as if speaking through a handkerchief to disguise his voice.
‘Absolutely, sir,’ answers Sgt Armitage. ‘We’re not interested in what you were doing there. Or who with, but if you have some information, it’s your duty to come forward. In fact, withholding information is against the law.’
‘It’s just that…Will I have to give evidence…in court, like?’
‘That depends, sir, if you actually saw somebody with the little girl, most likely. If not, probably not.’
‘Only. The wife…she mustn’t find out, you know?’
‘Like I said, sir, it is your duty to tell us what you know, what you saw. We are not going to be telling your wife.’
‘Perhaps I’d better say nothing at all, thinking about it.’ And he put down the phone.
‘Bugger,’ mutters Armitage, but not surprised. The appeal in the paper has brought little – to be honest – no response.
What did he see, our shy friend in the phone box? Anything significant, anything vital to the investigation? We shall never know. Not unless he has a sudden change of mind, an attack of conscience.