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Authors: Douglas Lindsay
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it.
'That's fine. Then we're going to think you're the Jigsaw Man, and we can begin proceedings to get you executed. You ever hear about those people who live on Death Row for over twenty years? You won't be one of them. Death can come very quickly on Death Row when the accused is considered a danger to the state.'
'I'm not the Jigsaw Man,' I said.
'Who's the Jigsaw Man?' snapped Agent Crosskill. 'Tell us about the Jigsaw Man.'
'He did jigsaws,' I said, the words suddenly tripping out. They sounded panicky and stupid. 'He owned the café. He just used to sit there, days on end, every time you went in... every time you went in, he was sitting at the table, doing a jigsaw.'
'He never went to the bathroom?'
I was so confused that I wasn't even sure which one of them said it. I just heard the words.
'No. I don't know. He must have, but I never saw him. He must have.'
'And? What else?'
'I don't know. Nothing else.'
'Did he ever talk?
'Sometimes. He usually said hello. Sometimes he'd give you advice.'
'Why did you ask for advice?'
'I don't know, I just... we just said hello to him. He had a knack for knowing what your problems were.'
'He knew about you? How did he know about you? He spearheaded some intelligence network? He had access to surveillance?'
'No!'
'What then?'
'I don't know... I don't know...'
They paused. I suddenly became aware that I'd been leaning forward with my head in my hands and my eyes shut. I sat back quickly and looked at them. They were both still there. Agent Crosskill. His No Name colleague.
'When was the last time you saw the Jigsaw Man?' asked Agent Crosskill.
I stared at him across the table. When was the last time I saw the Jigsaw Man? Was I supposed to know the date? I didn't know the date.
'Years ago. Before I was married. Eighteen years, maybe. No, longer. Twenty. Twenty years. He told me about his wives. That was the last time I saw him. He told me about his wives.'
'What about them?' asked the woman.
'Just... about them. That he'd had wives. That he'd been married four times.'
The two of them stared across the desk. This was the part of the interrogation that was conducted in silence in order to intimidate me. It was working.
'What?' I asked.
'The Jigsaw Man has never been married,' she said.
'He was. He told me.'
'He lied,' said Agent Crosskill.
Once again I felt lost. I didn't know what to say to them. It's a common metaphor to equate one's circumstances to drowning. The sensation of floundering around, unable to breathe, unable to get hold of anything, helpless.
I felt like I was drowning.
'All I know about the Jigsaw Man was that he owned the Stand Alone Café, that he'd been married four times, and that one day he went off travelling and I never saw him again.'
As soon as I had finished speaking, Agent Crosskill rose from his seat, gave me one last harsh, judgemental look, and then walked quickly from the room, closing the door behind him.
I stared at the woman, who did not take her eyes from me.
'That's all I know,' I found myself saying.
'The Jigsaw Man did not own the Stand Alone Café,' she said. 'The Jigsaw Man was never married.'
I shook my head.
'Perhaps it's a different man,' I said. 'You must have them mixed up.'
'Your Jigsaw Man sat in the Stand Alone Café in Glasgow and did jigsaw puzzles?'
She pronounced Glasgow as if it rhymed with Mao or thou.
I swallowed. I nodded. Mouth felt dry. Head felt leaden.
'There's only one Jigsaw Man,' she said. 'And as far as anyone can tell, I'm looking at him right now.'
She got to her feet and followed Agent Crosskill from the room. I watched her go, and then lifted the water, unscrewed the cap, and gulped down the remaining half bottle.
11
––––––––
T he plane wasn't landing. It was crashing. So out of control, being battered and tossed around so much, that it felt like it would break up even before impact. There were screams. One woman in particular. I think it was a woman. So
'That's fine. Then we're going to think you're the Jigsaw Man, and we can begin proceedings to get you executed. You ever hear about those people who live on Death Row for over twenty years? You won't be one of them. Death can come very quickly on Death Row when the accused is considered a danger to the state.'
'I'm not the Jigsaw Man,' I said.
'Who's the Jigsaw Man?' snapped Agent Crosskill. 'Tell us about the Jigsaw Man.'
'He did jigsaws,' I said, the words suddenly tripping out. They sounded panicky and stupid. 'He owned the café. He just used to sit there, days on end, every time you went in... every time you went in, he was sitting at the table, doing a jigsaw.'
'He never went to the bathroom?'
I was so confused that I wasn't even sure which one of them said it. I just heard the words.
'No. I don't know. He must have, but I never saw him. He must have.'
'And? What else?'
'I don't know. Nothing else.'
'Did he ever talk?
'Sometimes. He usually said hello. Sometimes he'd give you advice.'
'Why did you ask for advice?'
'I don't know, I just... we just said hello to him. He had a knack for knowing what your problems were.'
'He knew about you? How did he know about you? He spearheaded some intelligence network? He had access to surveillance?'
'No!'
'What then?'
'I don't know... I don't know...'
They paused. I suddenly became aware that I'd been leaning forward with my head in my hands and my eyes shut. I sat back quickly and looked at them. They were both still there. Agent Crosskill. His No Name colleague.
'When was the last time you saw the Jigsaw Man?' asked Agent Crosskill.
I stared at him across the table. When was the last time I saw the Jigsaw Man? Was I supposed to know the date? I didn't know the date.
'Years ago. Before I was married. Eighteen years, maybe. No, longer. Twenty. Twenty years. He told me about his wives. That was the last time I saw him. He told me about his wives.'
'What about them?' asked the woman.
'Just... about them. That he'd had wives. That he'd been married four times.'
The two of them stared across the desk. This was the part of the interrogation that was conducted in silence in order to intimidate me. It was working.
'What?' I asked.
'The Jigsaw Man has never been married,' she said.
'He was. He told me.'
'He lied,' said Agent Crosskill.
Once again I felt lost. I didn't know what to say to them. It's a common metaphor to equate one's circumstances to drowning. The sensation of floundering around, unable to breathe, unable to get hold of anything, helpless.
I felt like I was drowning.
'All I know about the Jigsaw Man was that he owned the Stand Alone Café, that he'd been married four times, and that one day he went off travelling and I never saw him again.'
As soon as I had finished speaking, Agent Crosskill rose from his seat, gave me one last harsh, judgemental look, and then walked quickly from the room, closing the door behind him.
I stared at the woman, who did not take her eyes from me.
'That's all I know,' I found myself saying.
'The Jigsaw Man did not own the Stand Alone Café,' she said. 'The Jigsaw Man was never married.'
I shook my head.
'Perhaps it's a different man,' I said. 'You must have them mixed up.'
'Your Jigsaw Man sat in the Stand Alone Café in Glasgow and did jigsaw puzzles?'
She pronounced Glasgow as if it rhymed with Mao or thou.
I swallowed. I nodded. Mouth felt dry. Head felt leaden.
'There's only one Jigsaw Man,' she said. 'And as far as anyone can tell, I'm looking at him right now.'
She got to her feet and followed Agent Crosskill from the room. I watched her go, and then lifted the water, unscrewed the cap, and gulped down the remaining half bottle.
11
––––––––
T he plane wasn't landing. It was crashing. So out of control, being battered and tossed around so much, that it felt like it would break up even before impact. There were screams. One woman in particular. I think it was a woman. So
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