Christopher Hacker - The Morels

Like our names. And our address. I’m not sure about what people say in it because I can’t remember word for word. Like now, I probably couldn’t tell you what I just said. I can’t remember word for word like now I probably couldn’t tell you what I just said . But I couldn’t tell you that ten minutes from now.

Will begins writing down, verbatim, everything he is saying. His speech slows as he attempts this feat, and he loses track of what he’s saying and has to be reminded. There are things — in the book — that — are not true, like — I had a tantrum when I — couldn’t, n -apostrophe- t —stay up to watch ER . It wasn’t ER —and it wasn’t a tantrum. For instance. And there are things — that happened — that did not happen in the book. Like the UFO — on the roof.

What about those things that happened in the book and also happened in real life?

Will writes the words: master, bait .

I know how to spell it, he says. It’s with a u even though it sounds like master . You want to know … did we … take baths.

What does the book say?

It says we did.

And did you?

He has just written his previous line of dialogue, It says we did , and now underlines the two words we did .

Each of the psychologist’s follow-up questions becomes more pointed, more explicit, requiring explicit and pointed responses about what exactly Will and his father did together in the bath. Will stops speaking, stops looking up at his interrogator; instead he keeps his eyes on the page in front of him, letting the pen trace out those words he cannot utter.

The psychologist excuses himself and joins Detective Ramirez, who is sitting with Penelope on a bench outside the room.

I think we have a case here.

Detective Ramirez says, I need your son to come back and speak with one of the child psychologists.

Aren’t you a psychologist?

No, ma’am. This is Detective Carvo. Detective Carvo extends his hand.

You tricked me.

No, ma’am.

But you did. You tricked me and my son into talking to you. You coerced a confession out of him.

Ma’am, we’re not out to get your husband or you or your son or anyone else in your family. We’re just looking for the truth here. This is a preliminary interview, information gathering, nothing more. We don’t want to falsely accuse anyone here. Which is why we need an expert to speak with your son. Do you have an objection to that?

No.

Good.

Detectives Ramirez and Carvo visit Arthur at his place of employment. They would have preferred to speak with him at home. Talking with him here will put him on the defensive, and at this point it would be better to have him comfortable. The tells are easier to spot when they have a baseline of ease. But they must work with what they have. Another case has them elsewhere in the mornings and evenings, and they don’t have time to guess at when he might be home.

A young woman shows them to Arthur’s office. She seems thrilled that Arthur might be in some trouble. There is another man in Arthur’s office, speaking with Arthur.

The detectives ask the man if he wouldn’t mind leaving while they spoke with Arthur privately. They don’t announce themselves as officers of the law. In places like this, they rarely have to. Who else would they be? It’s understood. People make a wide berth, whisper to one another.

When they close the door, they show him their badges. Arthur sits down. Detective Carvo stands; Ramirez sits on the edge of the desk. They take an aggressive tack. They box him in, fold their arms over their chests. It is Arthur who determines this, though he doesn’t realize it. Were Arthur to have remained standing, the officers would have sat, folded their legs wide, presented him with smiles and open palms. But Arthur is telling them, by sitting with his back against the wall, to press down on him.

It’s a tag team of questions. Arthur can’t keep up with the answers. The detectives are civil, polite even, but Arthur can feel an icy burn expanding throughout his body. He’s drowning in a quicksand of questions, he can’t catch his breath. He wants to give them what they want, but what they want doesn’t seem to have to do with answers and questions. He stands, he moves toward the door, but can’t bring himself to ask them to leave, so he leans, arms folded, in the corner by the door.

Arthur is right. The answers don’t matter; whereas Arthur may determine the means, he has no control of the end. It has already been decided, at least as far as Detective Carvo is concerned. The man is guilty. But Detective Carvo is young. Hard work and intuition have gotten him this far. He is still high on his own intuition. Detective Ramirez, on the other hand, has had enough years on the job to have been proved dead wrong enough times to know that they’re not all guilty, that some of them like this character Morel very well may have broken no laws, may in fact be just a run-of-the-mill pervert. Ramirez will reserve judgment because the truth is you never know. People lie, and for all sorts of reasons. It’s not just the perverts, but the victims, too.

Anyway, they’re not looking for concrete answers from this guy. They’re after reactions. Is he outraged? Disgusted? Squeamish? Guilty? Afraid? It’s how he reacts to key words, key phrases, not the answers themselves. They’re looking for him to say something to complicate the story or change it in some way: maybe the boy has a history of lying, or the wife’s father is a repeat sex offender. But the interview doesn’t yield much.

At the same time, though, Arthur’s reactions do not do him any favors or rule him out as their man. He goes from blank-eyed terror to sneering in the space of twenty minutes. He offers no damning tells, nor does he offer any complicating factors that might take the heat off him. Anyway, this case will come down to the boy’s testimony. Until they have that, short of Arthur’s full confession, it doesn’t matter what he says.

Arthur had questions of his own, raised through these detectives’ troubling line of questioning. Why were they hounding him about the “events” of a work of fiction? Where had they gotten the idea that his novel was true? Who had they been talking to? What had they been told? When had all this happened?

Penelope and Will return to the precinct for an interview with the child psychologist.

The place, in its bustle, seems less threatening this time around. She breathes a little more freely while she waits outside in the hall for her son. She feels safer, as though this place — in that impersonal yet reassuring way of hospitals — has her best interests in mind. That the people here only want to do right by her.

Detective Ramirez is a particularly comforting presence. He brings her coffee, bagels — when they go out for lunch he brings her back a sandwich. He sits down with her while she waits and explains gently, slowly, how everything will unfold. Much the way a surgeon would before a complicated procedure, with the same kindness and gravity. Unless the psychologist comes out and says something unexpected, they will ask Will to make a statement, record it on tape.

Will he also be asked to testify in court, Penelope asks.

It may come to that, yes, but there’s plenty of time before we cross that bridge. First we will talk to, hopefully, Joanna. She is very nice, you’ll like her. She works with the district attorney’s office, and she will help us decide if and how we should move forward.

And if we do?

We will need to have a serious talk with Arthur. We will bring him in here. And at that point, it’s really up to him. (Back to that idea again — Arthur in control of his own destiny or, if not his destiny, than at least the route he prefers to take to hell.) A confession may buy him some jail time. If he’s not willing to confess, then we will have to make our felony complaint without it. We’ll obtain a warrant for his arrest. We’ll need you to be available for the whole gamut of court dates. For the next six months you’ll learn how to make yourself comfortable on these benches, the art of waiting for your name to be called. I don’t want to candy coat things for you, Penelope. It will be a full-time job for you, managing all of this. The court appearances will be stressful, but you have family, I hear, yes?