Other people

by Sol Stein

  "Don't that make the gism tighten your balls, man?" Koslak said to the super. "Great tits."

  I am watching them both.

  The super is watching me as if he's appreciating a statue. If the circumstances were different, it might be a compliment.

  "We ain't got all day," said Koslak. "Take it all off. I want to see the beaver."

  I let the blouse slip off my arms.

  "All of it," he yelled.

  I don't want him to touch me.

  "Hurry up. If you don't want to go into the bedroom, lie back on the couch and spread it."

  He sees how frightened I am. He's feeding on my fear.

  "Just a minute," I said, and I went for the kitchen, with Koslak following right behind me fast, saying, "What's up? Where you going?" but he didn't do anything to stop me till he saw me reach up to the magnetic knife rack above the sink and then it was too late. For a split second I almost took the meat cleaver. I'd cut chicken into parts with it, whacked fish heads off, but using it against a human being? It was self-defense, wasn't it? The knife I took was the bread knife.

  I thrust it at him foolishly. He was too far away.

  "Wait a minute," he said. What frightened me was the twisted pleasure of his smile. He likes the possibility of violence.

  "Don't come near me," I said, holding the knife out in front of me, point toward him. I wished I knew how to use it. I knew I was doing it wrong.

  When I moved forward, he moved back. He was looking to grab my arm.

  I had walked him back into the living room. The super saw the knife. "Hey, Harry," he said, "this isn't my scene."

  "It's your scene now," Koslak said. He had that commanding shake in his voice. "Get behind her," he said. "She can't take on two of us."

  I was backing toward the front door when I thought I heard voices outside. I screamed with full lungs. The super really looked frightened, but Koslak lunged for my arm. I tried to strike at him with the knife, but he grabbed my wrist and twisted so hard I felt the pain shoot up to my shoulder. I dropped the knife. Instantly he stooped and picked it up.

  The doorbell rang. "Open up," a voice said. "Police officers."

  Koslak was standing there with the knife when the super stepped behind me and unlocked the door. The two policemen had guns in their hands.

  Sixteen

  Thomassy

  Koch sat scrunched up in the passenger seat, obviously alarmed at how fast I was tooling up the West Side Highway. I wonder what kind of teen-ager this psychiatrist had been.

  This got me thinking about Papa Thomassian, who sometimes thought he was a psychiatrist to his horses. He'd mother them and father them, a taskmaster, trainer, and in the case of that crazy stallion that should have been shot. Papa behaved like a head doctor trying to reason and cajole a berserk animal. I was fourteen when the stallion responded to Papa's ministrations by kicking him unconscious.

  I remember Mama screaming out of control as if I could hear it right now.

  I did what I had to do. I hauled the limp sack of old man into the back of the antique car. Every kid my age in Oswego knew how to drive, but I didn't even have a learner's permit. I drove the distance to the hospital in Binghamton, Mama crying her widow's wail, sure this was the end. I had to tell her that if she didn't shut up, I'd crack up the car and we'd all die.

  I got the old man into emergency — the intern said it was in the nick of time — and the cop who wrote up the report said to me, "How'd you get here, kid?" and I said, "I drove," and that was that because if you won, it didn't matter how you won.

  Which didn't get me a driver's license before I was sixteen. We had to take the bus to Binghamton to visit the old man. The wheezing had turned to breathing. Then he was sitting up in bed.

  "Mama," he said, "give me a dollar."

  "You can't spend no money in the hospital, what for you need a dollar?"

  The patriarch's authority had come back to his eyes. She gave him the dollar.

  Then he turned to me and said, "Georgie, you save my life the doctor says. Here."

  I shook my head. I didn't want the dollar.

  "You see how he turns away from my dollar. Mama? The only reason he saved my life was because he don't want to take care of you."

  Gratitude, I learned, is like love. Don't try for it. If you get it, it won't last.

  "What did you say?" asked Dr. Koch.

  "I was thinking gratitude is like love. It never lasts."

  "Not true," said Koch the curer.

  We knew we were at the right building because people had clustered around the empty police car, its light whirling. "Follow me," I yelled to Koch, and went up the stairs two at a time.

  The apartment door was open. Inside, an unbelievable scene, the cops, Francine, and two guys, all of them trying to talk or shout. Francine had some kind of wrap around herself. Her hair was wild. I kept my eyes averted from her. I identified myself to the police as her lawyer, by which time Koch had come up the stairs, puffing, and I said he was Miss Widmer's doctor, that there'd been a call asking for help, and, yes, I was the one who had called the police.

  The older, heavyset cop said, "This guy," pointing at the man I assumed to be Koslak, "is threatening false arrest."

  "You're damn right," Koslak's strident pitch cut at me.

  Francine allowed herself to be engulfed by Koch's arm. Permissible for a doctor, not for a lawyer.

  "He says nothing happened."

  "That's true," said the man with one arm. "Nothing did."

  "You let him in," Francine screamed. "He's the man who raped me.

  "Nobody raped anybody while I was here," said the super.

  "Last week! Last week!" said Francine.

  "Who called the cops tonight?" said the cop.

  I repeated that I had. "I was in Dr. Koch's office. He got a message from his service that Miss Widmer needed help."

  "Let me tell you something, mister," said Koslak, "she don't need no help. She offered to put on a show."

  I looked at Francine.

  "This girl was naked from the waist up when I come in," said the cop. He turned to Francine. "You live here alone?"

  Francine nodded.

  "Did you invite these men in?"

  "The super said he had to turn the water in the kitchen off because there was a leak down below."

  "That's right," said the super.

  "Then what happened?" asked the cop.

  "He let the other man in, I told you," said Francine.

  "She offered to put on this show," said the super. "She wanted twenty bucks, and I asked Mr. Koslak in so we could split it ten and ten."

  "That's a lie." Francine was appealing to me to take charge.

  "Officer," I said, "what did you see when you entered?"

  The younger cop answered. "I was in first. This fellow—" he pointed at Koslak— "was holding a knife, the other fellow was just standing there, the girl was—"

  "Why was he holding a knife?"

  "It wasn't my knife," said Koslak. "It was her knife. I had to take it away from her."

  The cop said, "She admitted it was her knife."

  "She pulled the knife," said Koslak, "when we said we'd pay after the show. She wanted the cash in advance."

  "They were threatening to rape me!"

  "Hold everything!" I said. "Officer, my client is employed as an executive in the United Nations, comes from a socially prominent Westchester family, earns a good living. Why would she be interested in exhibiting herself for a few dollars?"

  "I don't know," said the older cop. "Hey, honey," he said to Francine, "why would you?"

  Koch was trying to calm her.

  "I wouldn't!" she yelled. "I was screaming before the police came in."

  "Was she in fact screaming?" I asked.

  "She was," said the cop.

  "Because I took her damn knife away from her," said Koslak. "Listen, anybody going to make charges around here, it's me. I'm a respectable married man. I got a pregnant w
ife and two kids upstairs. I only came in because she was going to put on a show, right?"

  "Right," said the super.

  "Anybody'd want to see that kind of a show. But if she's going to scream rape or whatever, I'm going to charge false arrest. I'm a businessman. I own the Esso station on Hertford. I know my rights."

  "Officer," I said, "can the doctor talk to my client in the next room for a minute?"

  He looked hesitant.

  "I want to advise her of her rights," I said.

  Grudgingly, he approved, and I took Francine by the arm into the kitchen. Koch joined us, and I closed the kitchen door.

  "Francine," I said. "We're here to help. Are you calm enough to talk?"

  She nodded, sniffing.

  "Is any of that nonsense true? I mean about putting on an exhibition?"

  "I was trying to stall until you got here. I had to think of something that might…"

  "Might what?"

  "Keep them from touching me."

  I guess she saw Koch and me looking at each other.

  "I didn't want a repeat of what Koslak did the last time. He probably told the super. They planned this."

  "We need demonstrable proof of that."

  "I swear I'm telling the truth."

  "Unless there's proof, it's their word against yours. And there are two of them."

  Francine looked utterly forlorn.

  Koch asked me, "What about the knife?"

  "How did that happen?" I asked her.

  "I didn't know how long it would take for help to get here. I didn't even know if it would. I mean can you rely on an answering service? I didn't leave the message, they wouldn't let me phone, I had to tell him what to say in a way he wouldn't know what the message was, and I could hardly think of anything except French, hoping he wouldn't know it. I was thinking of going out the window. Do you think I wanted to do a strip for them? Koslak beat me for screaming. Nobody came. It was the only thing I could think of to buy time, only I couldn't stall them any more. I was getting desperate. I grabbed the kitchen knife, maybe I shouldn't have, but I did, and he grabbed it away from me."

  "Was there anything about money?"

  "I swear, nothing. They made that up."

  "You shouldn't have come back here."

  "It's my home. I was just picking up some clothes. For a few minutes, that's all."

  Koch, looking helpless, said, "Mr. Thomassy, can I do anything?"

  "I don't know if either of us can do anything."

  "What do you mean?" said Francine.

  "Nothing happened."

  "They were going to rape me."

  "But they didn't. At best, it's attempted rape, and we have no proof."

  "But he did it the last time." She was crying now. Koch tried to put his arm around her again, but she shrugged it off. "Betrayed by the rules. No douching. Go straight to the hospital. Get a piece of skin or clothes for the police. I don't know what you people expect of women!"

  "Don't lump us with the enemy, Francine," said Dr. Koch. "We are here to help. That's why we came."

  "Then help."

  The older cop poked his head in the door. "Look, mister, enough is enough. We got a call that something was going on up here. We don't know what was going on up here. These guys were fully dressed, but the girl was naked. My partner and I saw the guy with the knife, but she admitted it was her knife. We frisked them both before you got here. They were clean. I can't arrest either of them for doing nothing, right? And the one guy says he'll charge false arrest if we do, and nobody wants that kind of hassle, right? Why don't we pack everybody off and call it a night."

  "Because." I pointed him into the other room, and waved Koch and Francine to follow me.

  I stationed myself as close to Koslak as I could but talked to the others. I was hoping he'd make a grab for me. "I'll take this matter to the D.A. in the morning," I said, "so you'd better file an accurate and complete report, officer. The woman would have no reason to call for help unless help was needed. May I have both of your names and I.D. please?"

  I could feel Koslak bristling as I took the information down. Then I went up to the bearded man without the arm.

  "You're the superintendent of this building?"

  "This one and the two next door."

  "You came up here to turn the kitchen water off because there was a leak down below?"

  "That's what I said."

  "Officer," I said, "would you check with the apartment below to see if they've had a ceiling leak or any other leak this evening?"

  The older cop nodded and the younger one went out.

  "How long have you been superintendent of this building?"

  "Two years." He turned to the cop. "Do I have to answer his questions?"

  "I'm no lawyer," said the cop.

  "Well, I'm an officer of the court, as you know, and there is an obligation to investigate certain facts at the scene of any alleged crime. A crime has been alleged here. And if the police don't do a thorough job of investigation, it'll only make the D.A.'s job harder, so I'm trying to help you avoid being criticized later, do you understand, officer? Okay." Then to the one-armed man, I said, "When you applied for the position of superintendent here, did you fill out an employment application for the landlord?"

  "No, it was just an interview. I saw his ad. He was desperate for somebody. The previous super was a wino and a crook."

  "Did your employer ascertain whether you had been in trouble with the law?"

  "Hey, what is this?"

  "You heard what this is. We're investigating a complaint. Do you have a police record?"

  From his expression I would guess our fishing expedition was leading somewhere.

  The super was sullen and silent.

  "Never mind. We'll note there was no response. We can check his record easy enough. Now you." I turned to Koslak. "How did you gain entrance to this apartment?"

  "He let me in."

  "Did you think it was his apartment?"

  "No. He lives in the basement next door."

  "What made you think he had the right to invite you into this apartment?"

  "There was this show."

  "What show?"

  Koslak looked at Francine with hatred.

  "There was no show when you entered and none after you entered, isn't that right? You were trespassing. Is trespass a proper charge, officer?"

  "I'll sue for false arrest."

  "Do whatever you like, mister," I said.

  Just then the younger cop came up from downstairs. "The lady says there was no leak in her apartment."

  "Did you take her name?"

  He looked dumbfounded.

  "Officer, would you mind taking her full name, address, and her exact words since you'll be filing a complete report on this matter."

  He looked at the older cop. The older cop nodded. He went back down.

  "Okay," I said to the super. "You made that story up."

  "I'm not saying anything without a lawyer."

  "Call your lawyer. There's a phone in the kitchen."

  "It's nighttime."

  "He'll have an answering service for emergencies."

  "I don't have a lawyer."

  "You'd better get one." I turned to Koslak. "You have a lawyer, mister?"

  "You're damn right."

  "Well, you better call him and tell him that you're being charged with slander. You did say in front of witnesses that this young woman offered to perform certain sexually enticing acts for pay. Considering the nature of her employment as an official of an international organization, such defamation could be most injurious. Would you note the allegation, officer?"

  "I don't have to book him for anything like that."

  "I just want to make sure you note the additional charge. You're booking him for trespass."

  "You'll have to come along to the station," the officer said sadly to Koslak.

  "My wife'll be worried."

  "I'll be happy to tell your wife where
you are," I said to Koslak.

  "Fuck you!" said Koslak.

  "Hey, let's watch it," said the officer. To me, he said, "You coming along?"

  "We're all coming along," I said, taking Francine by the arm.

  Seventeen

  Thomassy

  Widmer got me on the phone early. "George," he said, "Francine was very upset last night."

  "I'm not surprised."

  "What happened?"

  "Did you ask her?"

  "She wouldn't say anything."

  "Then it's not my place to."

  "Please?"

  "There was a trespassing incident involving the man who raped her, Ned. Fortunately, the police were able to intervene. I've lodged a trespassing complaint."

  "George, I want her out of that apartment. I don't care what it costs."

  "She doesn't take instruction from me, Ned. You'd better talk to her yourself. Remember, there's that damn lease."

  "I don't give a damn about the lease! Anyway, breaking leases should be child's play for you, George."

  "Ned, there are leases and leases. I don't even know who owns that building. It might take good money."

  "I don't care."

  "One thing's sure, Ned. There won't be an escape clause on the grounds that the folks upstairs include a rapist and the super is a one-armed freak."

  "What's this about the super?"

  "He was with Koslak last night. He was the one who let him in the apartment."

  "Jesus, George, there must be a way."

  "Sure, let's run a sublease ad. Wanted: tenant for apartment under rapist. Ned, you can't even say 'Gentlemen Only' in an ad any more! Want to take the responsibility of a sublease to another young woman without telling her what she's getting into?"

  "I don't care if the apartment sits empty. George, are you pursuing the original complaint?"

  "You bet your life."

  "When?"

  "Right now. Today."

  "Keep me posted, George. And one other thing."

  "What?"

  "Don't tell Francine I called."

  Thank heaven for disbarred lawyers. Without someone like Fat Tar-bell, my investigative work would be a lot more time-consuming. If a disbarred lawyer doesn't want to spend the rest of his life clerking for paralegal wages, he's got to develop a specialty. Tarbell is a sucker fish on the body of the Westchester D.A.'s office.