Heads You Win

He sat down at the table, head in hands, and began to tell her why he’d come home early that afternoon. He’d reached, “I was kneeling by her side…” when there was a loud banging on the front door.

Elena opened it to find two uniformed policemen towering over her. “Are you Mrs. Karpenko?” the first officer asked.

“Yes.”

“Is your son, Sasha, with you?”

“Yes, he is.”

“I need him to accompany me to the station, madam.”

“Why?” demanded Elena, blocking the doorway. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“If that’s the case, madam, he has nothing to fear,” said the second officer. “And of course you are welcome to come with us.”

Elena and Sasha sat silently in the back of the squad car as they were driven to the local police station. Once Sasha had been signed in by the duty sergeant, they were escorted to a small interview room in the basement and asked to wait.

“Don’t say a word,” said Elena, once the door had closed. “Being suspended from school is one thing, being sent back to the Soviet Union is quite another.”

“But this isn’t the Soviet Union, Mother. In England you’re innocent until proven guilty.”

The door swung open and a middle-aged man in a dark gray suit walked into the room and sat down opposite them.

“Good evening, Mrs. Karpenko, I’m Detective Inspector Maddox. I’m the officer in charge of this case.”

“My son is innocent, and—”

“And we’re about to give him a chance to prove it,” said Maddox. “We would like your son to take part in an identity parade, but as he’s a minor, we can’t do so without your written permission.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then he will be arrested, and will remain in custody overnight while we continue our inquiries. But if you’re convinced he has nothing to hide…”

“I have nothing to hide,” said Sasha, “so please sign the document, Mama.”

The inspector placed a two-page form on the table in front of Elena, and handed her a biro. She took her time reading every word before finally adding her signature.

“Please come with me, young man,” said the inspector. He rose from his place and accompanied Sasha out of the room and down the corridor. The detective then stood aside to allow Sasha to enter a long narrow room with a raised platform on one side. Standing on the platform were eight young men, roughly the same age as Sasha, who had clearly been waiting for him.

“You can choose where you would prefer to stand,” said the inspector.

Sasha stepped onto the platform and took his place between two lads he’d never seen before, second on the left.

“Will all of you now please turn and face the mirror in front of you.”

The inspector left the room and went next door, where a frightened young girl, her mother, and a female police officer were waiting for him.

“Now, Miss Allen,” said Detective Inspector Maddox as he drew back the curtain along one wall of the room, “remember that although you can see them, they cannot see you.” The girl didn’t look convinced, but when her mother nodded, she stared intently at the nine young men. She only needed a few seconds before she pointed to the one who was standing second from the right.

“Can you confirm that is the young man who attacked you, Miss Allen?” asked Maddox.

“No,” said the girl, barely above a whisper. “That’s the boy who came to my rescue.”

*   *   *

She rang the doorbell twice. She knew he was at home, because she’d sat in her car for the past two hours waiting for him to return. When he answered the door he looked down at her and said, “What do you want?”

“I’ve come to see you about your son.”

“What about my son?” he said, not budging an inch.

“Perhaps it might be wiser if we were to discuss this inside, councilor,” she said, glancing across at an elderly lady who was peeping through the lace curtain next door.

“All right,” he said reluctantly, and led her through to his study.

“So what’s this all about?” he demanded once he’d closed the door.

“Your son tried to rape my daughter,” she said.

“I know all about this,” said the man, “and you’ve got the wrong lad. I think you’ll find that the police have already arrested the culprit.”

“I think you’ll find that they’ve already released him without charge.”

“So what makes you think my son was involved?”

Mrs. Allen opened her handbag, took out a gray sock, and handed it to the councilor.

“This could be anyone’s,” he said, passing the sock, back to her.

“But it isn’t anyone’s. A conscientious mother has taken the trouble to sew a Cash’s name tape on the inside. Perhaps you’d like to have another look?”

He reluctantly took the sock back and checked the inside, where he found the name TREMLETT neatly sewn in red on a thin piece of white tape.

“I presume you’ve got the other one.”

“Of course I have. But I can’t make up my mind if I should hand it over to the police, or—”

“One sock isn’t proof.”

“Perhaps not. But if your son is innocent, my daughter won’t be able to pick him out in an identity parade, will she? Unless, of course, all the others have red hair.”

“How much?” said Tremlett.

11

ALEX

Brooklyn