Liz Nugent - Lying in Wait

Detective Sergeant O’Toole introduced himself as Declan and asked our first names. He looked me over a bit too long in a way that made me slightly uncomfortable.

‘Did you see me on the television last night? We’re taking this very seriously.’

Ma had seen him interviewed, and treated him like a famous person. Me and Da had missed it because we’d been out looking for Annie.

‘Well now, to be honest I thought we’d get a better response, but I must say at the outset that we have not found Annie.’ A sob escaped from Ma. The tension was driving us all crazy. He ignored her distress and continued: ‘But we have made a few discoveries that I’m not sure you are aware of.’ He looked at me and said, ‘Did you know that your sister is a heroin user?’

‘She isn’t. I mean, she likes a drink but she wouldn’t go near drugs.’

‘Oh, Jesus,’ said Da.

‘When we searched her flat, we found certain items under the mattress that lead us to believe that she is a regular user.’

‘Like what?’ asked Ma.

‘Syringes, foil wraps, a ligature.’

I was shocked. I knew about heroin addicts. You’d see them sometimes around our neighbourhood. They were all hopeless cases, living on the streets, begging for their next fix. I’d seen them with my own eyes. Annie wasn’t one of them. Ma said nothing but cried quietly.

‘She’s not like that,’ said Da, ‘she can be trouble all right, but she’s too smart for drugs.’

‘Gerry,’ said O’Toole, ignoring my ma’s distress, and I didn’t like the condescending way he said it, ‘did you know that Annie has been caught shoplifting three times in the last year? She’s been up in court. The last time, the judge said he’d lock her up if she came before him again. She is not living a good life.’

Da went quiet then, but I was shocked and furious. ‘Why are you saying that? Annie’s not a thief! And she wouldn’t have the money for drugs. It’s not true, and even if it was, where is she? Have you done anything about finding her?’

Mooney looked towards the ceiling, in embarrassment I think, while O’Toole continued.

‘She got the money from items she stole and then sold on to a third party… and’ – he coughed, but it was a fake exaggerated cough – ‘from other sources.’

He reached out, put his hands flat on the table and addressed himself to Ma. ‘Pauline, we all have to be calm now. I admit that we don’t know where she is, but it seems that she had regular gentlemen… clients… over the last few months, and they might also have paid for her habit.’

It took a few moments for the impact of what he was saying to sink in. Ma was still bewildered, but Da leaped up, sending his chair crashing backwards.

‘Are you saying my Annie is a prossie? Is that what you’re saying? Because I’ll break your face if that’s what you’re after hinting.’

I pulled Da by the sleeve as O’Toole jumped out of his chair and pushed Mooney in front of him. Mooney moved behind Da, put a calming arm on his shoulder and spoke quietly. ‘Now, sir, we’re just dealing with the facts here to help us find your daughter.’ Da was breathing heavily, clenching his fists together, then pulling at his hair.

‘Da, please stop! Sit down.’

He slumped back into his chair. O’Toole nodded at Mooney, who stood sentry beside Da. O’Toole leaned forward and spoke quietly.

‘I understand that it’s upsetting for you to hear this, but we looked into Annie’s background. We know that she spent two years in St Joseph’s. You sent her there yourself, Gerry.’

Da put his hands over his face.

‘Now, I have to ask you a question and I want you to think hard before you answer it. Do you think there is a possibility that Annie might have taken her own life?’

I didn’t have to think hard at all. ‘No, absolutely not.’ It had already crossed my mind, but Annie was optimistic on the last Thursday I’d seen her. She was upbeat and hopeful of getting money from somewhere. She had left no note. There was no body. Annie would not have done that to us. Despite the constant arguing with our da, there had always been some sort of a bond between them. She wouldn’t even have done it to him. Ma and Da readily agreed with me.

‘Not our Annie,’ Ma said.

‘Well, we can never rule it out and I’m happy to proceed with the investigation. However, as you might guess, the news coverage so far hasn’t proved very… fruitful. But I know a few people in the press who might be interested in the human angle of the story. Would you be prepared to talk to them this afternoon, if I was able to get them down here to the station?’ O’Toole was excited by this, I could tell.

‘Just me?’ said Da.

‘All of you.’ He nodded towards me. ‘Sure, it’s no harm to put a pretty face forward.’ He winked at me. I was disgusted.

‘And tell them that my Annie is a drug addict and a prostitute?’

‘Well, of course, there would be no need to reveal any of those more… troubling details. I’m just talking about a straightforward appeal for your daughter to come home. We have no evidence that any harm has come to her, but she may be in the company of some, shall we say, unsavoury types. It would just be you three talking to a few reporters, no big deal. None of the other… information would be released to them.’

Detective Mooney looked at Da gravely. ‘I think it’s your best chance of finding her, Gerry.’

We argued about it. Ma wanted to do it, but Da was reluctant. They had a massive row in front of O’Toole, and I was caught in the middle.

‘You were always ashamed of her,’ Ma said to Da.

‘Can you blame me, Pauline? I’m hardly going to be boasting about my junkie whore daughter, am I?’

‘So you’d be happy if she was dead in an alley somewhere, would you? You’d be happy if you never saw her again?’

‘No! I’m not saying that. I just worry about what happens next time she goes off on a bender. I’m worried sick, if you must know.’

‘She’s your flesh and blood. We have to find her.’

‘I agree with Ma. What if she’s in some bad situation? She’s not on a bender. If the people she’s with know that the guards are looking for her, they might send her home.’

‘We don’t even know that she hasn’t gone off somewhere—’

‘We do know, Da. All her stuff was still there. She wouldn’t have taken off and left her stuff behind.’

We went back to the garda station in the afternoon. Dessie came with us, though he sat at the back of the room. I’d told him about the drugs and prostitution. He was utterly shocked. ‘Jaysus,’ he said, ‘I never knew she was that bad.’ He shook hands firmly with my dad, as if it were a funeral. ‘I’m sorry for your trouble.’

Da just glared at him. Da was still unenthusiastic about meeting the reporters, and Ma was really nervous. O’Toole said, ‘Don’t worry if you break down and cry when you’re talking about Annie,’ and I thought that was a strange thing to say because he was almost hinting that we should cry. Detective Mooney told us, ‘Just be honest, tell Annie that you want her to come home.’ Da said, ‘I do want her to come home,’ as if the guard was challenging him. ‘It’s OK, Da,’ I said.

We were brought into a bigger room with a big conference table and sat on one side of it with O’Toole. I couldn’t call him Declan. I noticed that he had had his hair cut since that morning. I guessed he didn’t give a damn about Annie and just wanted to be in the papers. He’d been so pleased with himself about being on the telly. When a photographer requested our photo, O’Toole jumped up and stood between us with his arms out, like Jesus in a holy picture of the Last Supper. A few men scribbled into jotters and clicked their cameras as Ma and Da talked about Annie. O’Toole looked meaningfully at me, urging me to say something, but I just sat with my head down and said nothing. I didn’t want to cry in front of strangers.