Seven Types of Ambiguity

by Elliot Perlman

  With a sideways look Threlfall got Staszic to bring me some water. Threlfall seemed to be in charge, but this was not because of a difference in rank. Maybe there was something Threlfall knew about Staszic that made Staszic accept his authority. He didn’t flaunt it. In fact, it was barely there. But it was there. Staszic came back quickly with the water. He didn’t like giving in to me. Threlfall continued.

  “Angela, you say Simon Heywood was your boyfriend?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you live with him?”

  “Not full-time.”

  “What do you mean, ‘not full-time’?”

  “I’m often there . . . at his place. I often stay the night. We hang out there, but I have my own place.”

  “Did you have any plans to move in with him?”

  “I don’t know . . . at some time.”

  “Did you have plans to marry?”

  “How can these questions possibly have any relevance to anything?”

  “We want to know about the relationship,” Staszic, the milkman, said.

  “Do you have a joint bank account?” Threlfall asked.

  “No.”

  “Did he help support you financially?”

  “No, not really.”

  “What do you mean, ‘not really’?”

  “Well, at the beginning he tried to help me out, but . . . you know . . . he was out of work. He wanted to give me money, he really did. He used to try to force it on me, but it was pretty clear that I had more money than he did.”

  “Did you help support him?”

  “I tried to.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “He was like most men in this respect, I suppose. He felt uncomfortable accepting money from me and would have preferred to be taking care of me.”

  “But you took care of him?”

  “I was working. I had money, he didn’t.”

  “And you gave him money?”

  “Sometimes, not much. Usually I’d just buy him things.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “I don’t know, anything, food, clothes, dog food. Sometimes I’d help him out with the rent. He got some money from his father sometimes, but he didn’t like to talk about it. What’s this got to do with anything anyway?”

  “Did Simon know you are a prostitute?” Staszic asked.

  “Yeah, he knew. He didn’t judge me for it.”

  “You said before that you don’t know Anna Geraghty.”

  “No, I don’t know her.”

  “Do you know Joseph Geraghty?”

  “Joseph Geraghty?”

  “Yes, do you know him?”

  “Could I have some more water, please?”

  “Would you answer that question, please, Angela? Do you know Joseph Geraghty, Joe Geraghty?”

  “That’s the little boy’s father, right?”

  “Please answer the question. You’re going to have to answer these questions in court, so you might as well get some practice here,” Staszic said.

  “I’m not going to court.”

  “You’ll have to go to court, Angela. The question is whether you go as a witness or as an accessory.”

  “Accessory? I didn’t know he was going to . . . Accessory to what?”

  “Kidnapping, child stealing . . .” Staszic was getting warmed up.

  “Angela, it really is in your interest to start cooperating.”

  “I am. What do you want me to say?”

  “Do you know Joseph Geraghty?”

  “Yes, I know him.”

  “How do you know him?”

  “He’s . . . he’s a friend.”

  “Is he a friend of Simon’s too?”

  “No.”

  “Simon doesn’t know him?”

  “No.”

  “So, let me understand the situation. You and Simon Heywood have been in a relationship for about two years.”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s friends with Anna Geraghty.”

  “Yes.”

  “But you’ve never met her.”

  “No.”

  “And you’re friends with Joseph Geraghty.”

  “Yes.”

  “And Simon’s never met him.”

  “No.”

  “Angela, it really is in your interest to tell us the truth.”

  “I know. I am.”

  “How do you know Joseph Geraghty?” Staszic continued.

  “I think I have to—”

  “How do you know Joseph Geraghty?”

  “Can I go to the—?”

  “Angela, please cooperate. We are trying to help you. You don’t want to be charged.”

  “I really have to go to the toilet.”

  “Does he pay you to have sex with him?” Staszic asked.

  “No, I’m serious. I really have to go.”

  “Angela, does Joseph Geraghty—?”

  “Look, I’m not well—”

  “Does Joseph Geraghty—?”

  “You already fucking know. I have to pee. I’m serious. I’m not well.”

  “Angela, if you’ll just answer the question—”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Staszic shouted in disgust, pushing back his chair and angrily getting to his feet. His chair fell backwards. Threlfall turned off the tape.

  “You filthy little bitch. Charlie, she’s pissed on the floor.”

  “I’m sorry.” I was crying by then. “I’m not well. I have MS. I can’t always tell when I need to go.”

  “It was pretty convenient, wasn’t it?” Staszic snapped.

  My face was hot and red. I cried without any way back to dignity.

  “You think I meant to do this? You think I chose to piss myself? You fucking, fucking piece of shit!”

  “Okay, let’s everybody take a break. Angela, why don’t you go and clean yourself up,” Threlfall suggested.

  15. I made my way to the women’s bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I went into one of the stalls and took off my sodden underpants. Not knowing what to do with them, I wrapped them in paper towels and threw them in the trash bin. I couldn’t answer their questions, not like this, not without a clear head. I had to be careful not to say anything that would harm Simon. I couldn’t just tell them the truth. It occurred to me that Simon might be in a cell at the back of the station. I wondered whether they would let me see him if he were. They wanted me back in the interview room. They would know, once I was there, that I was sitting naked inside my skirt or else squirming in my own mess. I called home hoping Kelly could drive over with some clean underwear, but there was no answer. Either she had gone out or, more likely, she had slept through the ringing. Simon had once told me that in parts of Europe during the Middle Ages prostitutes were regarded as both socially and morally responsible in that they contributed to the defense of the established order. Their testimony was prized because they had seen so much of life, and their place of business, the brothel, was sometimes even referred to as “the city’s house.” Seven hundred or so years later I sat in a different kind of house of the city, utterly wretched and humiliated.

  I had run out of excuses for not going back to Threlfall and Staszic. I glanced at my feet on the floor. It looked as though someone had made a perfunctory effort to clean up my mess with the same kind of paper towels I had used to dispose of the material evidence. Simon didn’t even know that there was something wrong with me.

  “Okay,” Threlfall said. “If you’re feeling better, I’ll start the tape again.”

  “Shouldn’t I have a lawyer?”

  “Do you agree, Angela, that the time is now . . . ?”

  I said yes. Even without looking at him I knew Staszic, sitting opposite now, was peering at me. I felt the cotton of my skirt on my skin. Cotton. “What did you pay for that skirt?” Simon had once asked me about it. “You know it was made in the middle of the night by children for a fiftieth of what it cost you.”

  “But do you like it? Do I look good in it?” I had asked
him, putting on some Billie Holiday. And I had looked good in it.

  That day had gone. Now there was a thin layer of cotton between me and Staszic.

  “Have you ever had sex with Joseph Geraghty?” he asked me.

  “Jesus, I don’t have to answer that.”

  “Have you ever had an affair with Joe Geraghty?”

  “No.”

  “You’ve never slept with him?”

  “This is none of your business.”

  “No, I’m afraid it is. Have you ever accepted money from him?”

  “From Joe Geraghty?”

  “You’ve said you were friends.”

  “Yes.”

  “Friends sometimes help each other out.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Has he ever given you money?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? Angela, this is the time to remember.”

  “He . . . he might have. What does it matter?”

  “Has he ever paid you for sex?”

  “I told you, he’s a friend.”

  “Do you only sleep with people you don’t like?” Staszic asked.

  “Angela, your answers are important. The truth could help you. We can’t help you without it,” Threlfall said.

  “Look, I don’t want to get the guy into any trouble.”

  “You don’t want anyone to get into any trouble, do you, Angela?”

  “No.”

  “But if you’re not frank with us you might be in trouble.”

  “Joe Geraghty is a client. So what?” “Why didn’t you want to tell us that?”

  “I don’t know . . . he’s not the worst guy, and I didn’t want his wife to know.”

  “You don’t like Anna Geraghty much, do you?”

  “I don’t know her.”

  “But Simon knows her, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes . . . so?”

  “Simon was having a relationship with her.”

  “No he wasn’t.”

  “Are you sure, Angela?”

  “What are you talking about? Yes, I’m sure. I’m his girlfriend. He’d had a relationship with her, but that was almost ten years ago.”

  “And when he renewed it, you weren’t too happy about it.”

  “This is mad.”

  “You weren’t too happy about it and neither was her husband, Joe.”

  “You’re making this all up.”

  “You told Joe about their relationship, didn’t you?”

  “There was no relationship.”

  “When you told him about it, he offered you money.”

  “What are you talking about? Money for what?”

  “He offered you money to call the police when the boy was with Simon and tell them that Simon had kidnapped him.”

  “I don’t know why you’re saying all this.”

  “He wanted you to help him end his wife’s affair and you were only too willing to oblige.”

  “Is this what Simon told you?”

  “It’s the truth, isn’t it, Angela?”

  “He would never have said that.”

  “Isn’t that what happened?”

  “No.”

  “You’re in love with him, but he’s in love with another woman. He’s in love with Anna Geraghty, isn’t he?”

  “No. He isn’t.”

  “You didn’t like it, so you decided to end it and make some money for yourself at the same time.”

  “That isn’t what happened at all.”

  “Well, why don’t you tell us what happened. Don’t you think it’s time?”

  My head was spinning. I kept telling myself that they wouldn’t charge me because they had to know I hadn’t done anything wrong. They were making this whole story up. They had to be. They certainly didn’t get it from Simon. Hanging on to this, I was eventually permitted to leave without being charged. They would want to speak to me again. I got back into my car, crossed my arms over the steering wheel, and buried my face in my arms. After a minute or two I called Alex Klima, but of course there was no answer. Threlfall and Staszic would not let me see Simon. They wouldn’t even confirm that he was there. I put the key in the ignition and saw that I had a parking ticket.

  Simon and Sam had earned a place in the Sunday tabloids. A teacher had been arrested in connection with the latest child kidnapping. The man was the same teacher who had been in charge of the little boy who had disappeared from his school after staying back for remedial reading lessons some years earlier. The teacher had lost his job shortly thereafter and had been unemployed for a long time. He was one of the long-term unemployed. There were photographs of other missing children. The papers were keeping count.

  Kelly worked most of the weekend, so I didn’t see her. Nor did I go to work. I couldn’t bring myself to go through all the questions the other girls would ask me about Simon and Joe and maybe even Staszic, the milkman. I certainly couldn’t bring myself to let anyone touch me. I kept calling Alex’s office only to hear his voice on the answering machine, over and over again. His machine wasn’t taking messages. His voice and those few words in his Central European accent were the only link I had on tap, on call, to the calmer moments of the best part of my life. When he finally answered early on Sunday evening, I didn’t know where to start.

  “Jesus, Alex! You startled me.”

  “Hello?”

  “I didn’t expect you to be there this time either.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Alex, it’s me, Angel.”

  “Oh yes, I’m sorry. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m in a mess. What’s going on?”

  “They’ve charged him with kidnapping. They might charge him with other things, too. I don’t know. They haven’t decided.”

  “Alex, I called them. It was me who called the police.”

  “I know. He figured it out.” “Can I see you?”

  “What, now?”

  “What are you doing there? Are you working?”

  “No, I’m . . . I’m spending more time here of late than my work requires.”

  “Alex, can we meet for a drink?”

  “I don’t think so. Not right now, Angel.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s . . . he doesn’t want to see you, Angel. Not at the moment.”

  “I didn’t think so. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I can’t bear him thinking that I informed the police for money. That’s what they are saying. They’re saying that Joe Geraghty, Anna’s husband, found out about an affair between Simon and Anna and then paid me to call the police when Simon had their son. Alex, I didn’t know he was going to take the boy. I went over there on Friday afternoon and found the two of them together. I called the police because I was frightened. I was frightened for Simon. What was he doing with the little boy, Alex?”

  “We shouldn’t talk about this over the phone, Angel.”

  “That’s why I have to see you.”

  “I really can’t now.”

  “Are you helping him, Alex?”

  “As much as I can. I’ve spent the whole weekend trying to help him. I’ve talked to the police. I’ve examined him.”

  “Is he all right?”

  “Under the circumstances. I’ve talked to his father several times.”

  “What about?”

  “Lots of things. I want to see if he’ll cover Simon’s legal costs.”

  “Will he?”

  “As of today the answer is still no, but he might come around.”

  “Alex, you’re not angry with me, are you?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Can I do anything?”

  “No, there’s nothing for you to do. I’ve done everything I can think of, everything he’s asked me to do. I’ve even spoken to Anna.”

  “Oh my God! Really? Why? What did you say?”

  “We shouldn’t talk about this over the phone.”

  “Alex, you don’t think they’re . . . ?”

  �
�Angel, I know you’re upset but I really can’t talk about it now.”

  “Please tell me where he is.”

  “Angel, he doesn’t want to see you now.”

  “Did he say that? Did he specifically say that?”

  “Angel—”

  “Did he?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, Alex.”

  “Give him some time.”

  “When can I see you?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. Can you call me tomorrow?”

  “I can call you whenever you say.”

  16. Simon had given Alex instructions, a list of people to call. He had instructed him to contact Anna, after all those years, and to not tell me where he was. I met Alex two nights later at the Esplanade. He looked terrible. That’s when he told me about Simon’s plan to have Anna say that they were lovers and that she had given him permission to pick Sam up from school that afternoon and take him back to Simon’s place.

  Alex sat calmly holding his drink as I explained how I had told the police that there was no relationship between Anna and Simon, that there hadn’t been for years.

  “But why did he take him, Alex? Did he tell you he was going to?”

  “No, I didn’t know.”

  “You can imagine how I felt when I saw them there together and Simon told me who the little boy was. I was scared he’d really lost it. He didn’t tell the police that I’d turned him in, did he?”

  “But you did.”

  “I called them, yes, sure, but I wasn’t being paid by Joe Geraghty. How could I have been? I didn’t know he was going to take the boy. How could I have known?”

  “You couldn’t have known.”

  “Did Simon really tell them that . . . about me and Joe Geraghty?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why did he take him in the first place, Alex? What was he trying to do?” “I don’t know. He’s not well, Angel.”

  “Please tell me where he is.”

  “He’s in a bad way, Angel. The police want to hold on to him. They’re trying to link him to all the other missing children.”

  “That’s insane. Is it my fault, Alex? Did I start this?”

  “No, it started long before you. We just didn’t stop it.”

  I called Alex every few days to get updates on Simon’s health. He wouldn’t say anything about his case over the telephone. Simon did not get bail. It was in the papers. They also said that he had been moved from the mainstream section to maximum security at Laverton.