Authors: William Goldman
He brought the boy again the following evening, waited the hour. The third session, the next Tuesday, Frank thought for a
moment, that as he waited he heard, ever so briefly, tears. But he wasn
’
t sure. But on the fourth session, he was.
Analysis, if it
’
s anything, is an inexact science, and supportive therapy is lucky when it reaches that level. And there were no Joan Crawford moments for Frank Jr., no epiphanies. But after the sixth session it wasn
’
t necessary for his father to come along on the weekly meetings. And after four months, the meetings themselves stopped. Frank Jr. wore no halo—he was just an ordinary average run-of-the-mill fucked-up teen-ager now.
Dear Doctor Lorber:
Last night at dinner the boy talked about college. Not
for long, and he was cautious, but the word did pass his
lips.
I don
’
t know what someone with my skills could ever do for someone with yours. But I pray for the opportunity.
Yours Frank Haggerty. Sr.
Not much of a note but it took Haggerty three days to get the thoughts down. Not three solid days, he did other things. But his mind was always on what he wanted to write. He mailed it fully confident that he would never hear from the great Doctor Lorber again.
It took a number of years. But he heard.
“
Detective Haggerty, please.
”
“
Yes.
”
It was the receptionist prune.
“
Detective
Frank
Haggerty?
”
“
Speaking.
”
“
Doctor Lorber was wondering if you could find some spare time to—
”
“
—just tell me when—
”
‘
Tonight
”
It was definitely not the prune who opened the door that evening. Haggerty stood outside the Foundation, perspiring heavily in the June night as this
vision
appeared in the doorway. Tall, nineteen maybe, athletic build, black hair, skin like Merle Oberon which only made more startling the sea-blue eyes.
“
You must be Mr. Haggerty,
”
she said.
Haggerty never messed around with women, never even paid
attention to the young ones. If I was twenty now, he thought, Fd never have got close to you. He nodded at his name.
She gestured for him please to enter.
“
My name
’
s Karen,
”
she told him, closing the door.
“
I
’
m the daughter. You know where Father
’
s office is?
”
“
I think.
”
“
Is he ever waiting for you.
”
She gave him a smile that was as good as the rest of her, turned and started upstairs.
Haggerty watched her body move. Special creature, he decided. A genuine stunner but didn
’
t seem conceited. He tugged at his coat, doing what he could with the wrinkles, then headed toward the large office at the end of the hall.
The placid man was gone. The Ike Lorber waiting inside looked physically like the earlier version. But whereas the former occupant was quiet, reasoned, calm, this one now jumped around, talked nervously, as if there were dashes around everything.
“
—Frank—Frank, Christ, good to see you, how
’
s Frank Jr?
”
“
—fine sir. Lives out west now, Washington, good job with Boeing, doing well…
”
Haggerty stopped then when he realized the doctor wasn
’
t paying the least attention. Ike walked around his desk, sometimes pausing briefly at the window, staring out at the small garden in the rear.
“
—You met Karen?-
”
“
Yes. Lovely.
”
“
—the inside is better than the outside, believe me—gonna make a great analyst—genuine feel for people—brilliant insights —popular at Bryn Mawr—not just a bookworm—adjusted, considerate, I
’
m crazy about her-
”
“
She sounds wonderful.
”
Now Ike Lorber whirled, stared at Haggerty.
“
—she
’
s a twin, Frank—she
’
s got a twin brother—and it
’
s him, it
’
s my son that
’
s killing me—
”
“
Drugs?
”
“
—if only it was—
”
He stopped abruptly, sat heavily into his desk chair.
“
—Can you believe that?—a father saying such a thing about a son?—about a beloved son?—terrible—terrible—
”
“
What
’
s the boy done?
”
“
—what has Eric done?—you catch their names?—Karen is Karen Homey Lorber, Eric
’
s middle name is Fromm—great figures in our field—Frank, from the start this whole Foundation
was theirs—God gave us these incredible children, these glories, these fraternal twins were handed down from on high—well adjusted, kind—I stress that because it ain
’
t easy having shrinks for parents, most of our shrink friends, their kids are more fucked up than their patients—but as g
o
od as Karen
’
s doing at Bryn Mawr, Eric
’
s that way at Swarthmore—they
’
ll be seniors next year and
already med schools want them
—
”
“
But he
’
s changed his mind.
”
“
—right—he told me—yesterday—man to man—I didn
’
t sleep —how could a man sleep?—his mother will die—I
’
m calm in comparison—
”
“
What does he want to be?
”
Ike Lorber shook and shook his head.
“
A gumshoe,
”
he said finally.
“
A shoulder tapper. My glorious son has decided to be a policeman.
”
Haggerty thought it best to say nothing.
The doctor sat back in his chair, sighing.
“
A passing fancy,
”
Haggerty said.
“
Eric doesn
’
t have such things. He ruminates at length before decisions.
”
He looked at Haggerty now.
“
Will you talk to the boy?
”
“
Of course.
”
“
Explain things to him—explain what a horrible mistake it would be—
”
“
—but I love the life—I wouldn
’
t be anything else—
”
“
—Frank—Frank Jesus—do I have to tell you the way I feel about the police? How many hundreds of hours do I donate each year? But this is a special kid.
”
“
If he can be a great doctor, that
’
s what he must be,
”
Haggerty said.
“
I saw what you did for my son.
”
“
Then you
’
ll help me.
”
“
Just tell me how.
”
“
I
’
ve thought exactly how—some night when it
’
s convenient, I want you to meet Eric, talk to him honestly, take him around with you, show him the reality.
”
“
Done.
”
“
Plus one more thing.
”
“
Name it.
”
“
I want you to scare the shit out of him
…
”
***
“
Will we really see a crime?
”
Eric asked.
Haggerty slowly piloted his car along Broadway; he saw a place up on 138th Street, so he pulled in to park. It was the first Saturday in July, three in the morning, steaming hot, and from a rooftop up ahead some guy was screaming as he threw bottles down onto the pavement.
“
Fantastic,
”
Eric said, staring out at the Harlem night. He could not hide his excitement
any
more than he could stop his ceaseless looking around.
Haggerty turned off the car motor, pocketed the keys, lit a Camel. So far he had done nothing right in the way of disabusing the kid of his notion. They
’
d started with a steak dinner at Gallagher
’
s. There were a bunch of other detectives eating when they came in, and they all noted Haggerty and his companion. And they kept watching them. At first Haggerty thought it was because of the way the kid was dressed—neat dark gray dacron and cotton suit, blue button-down shirt, red rep tie. Haggerty wore his usual off-duty costume—an old baggy jacket just to hide his gun, faded pants, short-sleeve shirt, no tie.
Who was he kidding, that wasn
’
t it Eric was just as startling to look at in his way as his twin was in hers. Big, powerful, moved well. And the same olive complexion, the same sea-blue eyes.
Haggerty told him horror stories over dinner—when the junkie cracked his skull, when he took the cleaver shot in the stomach, and they thought he was dead from blood loss, when the loony he
’
d put away got out and shot him three times point-blank and God alone knew how he
’
d stayed alive. And on this last one he described the slow healing months, the pain, the pressure he
’
d put on his family, how his daughter almost cracked with worry; Haggerty piled it on. All the stories were true, of course, he never lied, not about anything, but usually if he talked about them at all it was only because someone else brought it up and he grazed over them, never going into detail. Now he went into detail. The fear, the hurt, the knowledge that some nut was going to any day blow you away tomorrow, the miserable way it ripped at any semblance of family fabric, if it was sad or gory, Haggerty let it out.
Eric just kept saying
“
Really.
”
Or
“
Incredible.
”
Or
“
God, I wish I could have been there.
”
Once, when Haggerty went to the men
’
s room, Cooney followed
him. Cooney had the next desk over in the precinct house.
“
Who
’
s the co-ed?
”
Cooney wondered.
“
Would you believe, a recruit? I
’
m trying to talk him out of it.
”
“
Play down the glamorous aspects then,
”
Cooney advised.
“
Don
’
t tell him about the free apples we get from fruit stands.
”
“
Mum
’
s the word,
”
Haggerty promised and he went back to the table. After dinner, they walked through Times Square, Haggerty pointing out various points of sleaze. Then a long drive through the South Bronx, burned out and shameful.
And last, always last, Harlem.
“
Now we
’
re just going to sit quiet and watch,
”
Haggerty said. He pointed out the newsstand a short distance away on the corner. The bar in the middle of the block, the dance hall beside it and across the street another dance hall, Earl
’
s, big and very loud.
“
Earl
’
s is a bad place, capital B.
”
“
How so?
”
“
People get hurt in there. Frequently.
”
Eric stared across the street toward the large, lit place, the music surging out from the open doors. On the sidewalk in front of them, a number of drunks leaned on the buildings for support. Now a man left the bar, hesitated on the street a moment and a drunk left the support of the building, lost his balance, fell against the man who
’
d just left the bar. No harm though. The bar patron shoved the drunk away. The drunk staggered back to the safety of the building.
“
If we see a crime, will you arrest the guy?
”
“
I
’
m off duty, Eric; I guarantee you I won
’
t.
”
“
You mean you
’
ll just let it happen? A
crime
?”
“
It
’
s like rebounding in basketball—if you go after every one you
’
ll get tired and pretty soon you
’
ll start missing some that are your responsibility. You play basketball?
”
“
I
’
m not into team sports. But I know what you mean.
”
Haggerty lit another Camel.
Eric continued to stare around, trying to spot something.
“
I wonder, when will we see a crime?
”
“
We already saw one.
”
Eric looked at the older man.
“
The drunk,
”
Haggerty explained patiently, indicating the man leaning against the building.
“
He just picked the pocket of the man who left the bar.
”
“
You
’
re serious.
’’
“
Indeed.
”
“
Damn, and I missed it.
”
Eric said and he shook his head.
“
Boy, do I have a lot to learn.
”
Haggerty gestured toward the newsstand. The owner was old and small, and needed a cane to hobble around. What business he was doing was in the Sunday
Daily News.
“
See the owner?
”
“
I do, yessir.
”
Now he gestured again.
“
Now, see those two playing with the spaldeen at the corner?
”
“
The little kids without the shirts you mean?
”
“
They are little but Hispanics tend to be. But I
’
d guess they were your age. Damn close anyway. And I
’
d also guess that when they feel so inclined, they will mug and rob the newsstand owner.
”
“
He
’
s a cripple.
”
“
That shows how smart they are. Nobody in his right mind is going to mug Bronko Nagurski. Let me explain about muggers to you, Eric. Except for the fact that it
’
s low in social prestige, it
’
s not a bad occupation. Short hours, excellent wages, the taxes are very low. What muggers want to avoid is just what the rest of us want to avoid: trouble. Heaven for a mugger is an old woman alone on crutches.
”
“
And you don
’
t think we could stop them?
”
“
You can
’
t stop crime, Eric—that
’
s why the job is so draining —it flows on over you. And the tide is rising.
”
Eric was silent a moment and then began to laugh.
“
I was just thinking of a story—true story—about this famous legendary con man named Yellow Kid Weil. Wore yellow kid gloves. Immaculate gentleman. And he used to work the ocean liners. First class. Sail over, become friends with someone rich, and then cheat them in a card game the last night or get them to invest in something not so legal. And this one trip on the last night he had this old fat guy ripe and ready and they
’
re starting a rummy game when Weil looks up and this other con man is signaling to him to come over. Weil tries to ignore him but this other con man comes right up to the table and says,
“I’
m glad you two know each other
’
—
the old fat guy was a con man too.
”
Eric laughed again, forced it, then went silent.
“
Now why did I tell that?
”
Haggerty sat there smoking. Ahead of them, in the next block, a number of bottles crashed against the pavement.
“
I guess I was thinking what if the other guy was a pickpocket too.
”
The two shirtless Puerto Ricans moved a few steps closer to the newsstand, playing expert catch with the spaldeen.
“
I still don
’
t get it.
”
“
I was trying to make everything come out all right I guess. If they
’
d picked each other
’
s pockets, no one would have lost.
”
More bottles shattered in the darkness up ahead.
“
Eric, what the hell are you doing here?
”
“
You mean why did I decide to be a policeman? Well, there were a bunch of us at Swarthmore interested in the Peace Corps —after graduation, you understand—for the experience. And …
”
He stopped now, looking at a tall beautiful woman who exited the dance hall by the bar.
“
That black lady
’
s a whore, obviously, right? Or a madam do you think?
”
“
Too young and pretty for a madam, and she
’
s also a man.
”
Haggerty pointed.
“
Transvestite bar.
”
Eric just stared at her.
“
What
’
s wrong with the Peace Corps?
”
“
Nothing—nothing at all—but the Philadelphia police— Swarthmore
’
s not far from Philly—they
’
ve got a new recruiting program and they sent a guy to campus—not too warmly received But he said,
‘
Why do you want to go across the world to help out in some jungle? Believe me, we
’
ve got plenty of jungles at home.
’
Plenty of jungles at home—I
couldn
’
t get that phrase to leave me. So I went in and talked to some police in Philadelphia—groundbreaking questions, that kind of thing. And it seemed logical. Not in Philly, I
’
m a local, I want to work here.
”
“
You do well in school?
”
“
Well, I ought to, I put in the hours.
”
“
A
’
s?
”
“
Sure, but my dad expects it, my mom too, Karen does good work, no reason for me not to.
”
“
Eric—I really like you—I don
’
t know you well, but you seem very open, honest, and full of potential—so go to med school.
”
“
Like a good boy, you mean? And spend the rest of my life listening to loonies? Sorry—I know it
’
s old hat to you, but I can
’
t think of much more exciting than bringing in a criminal, a guy who
’
s caused pain, that
’
s
something.
”