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Authors: Vin Packer

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Fourteen

Thorpe said, “Have you read the morning papers, Hagerman?”

Hagerman had a hangover. He was in his room, still dressed in pajamas, swallowing down Gelusil.

He had not read the newspapers yet, but he had known what to expect. When he had come in last night, Burroughs had told him all about the police and the reporters hovering around Matilda Holt’s place, and how it had inspired him to flush the sugar cubes down the john, and Hagerman had gone to sleep pleased to think that Bud would never know that Hagerman had tried to dose Shepley with them. Hagerman had wondered what would have happened if Bud had gone ahead with his experiment, and discovered the cubes were ordinary Dominoes; he would only have had to swallow one, found it produced no reaction, and then analyzed the other three.

• • •

Things had a way of working out in Hagerman’s favor; now if he could just get Thorpe off his back, he could go to his classes and conduct the pledges through their Day of Purgatorio, and calm down, and carry on.

Calm down and carry on.

“No, I didn’t read the papers. But I know what’s
in
the papers.”

“You know about that Mrs. Holt?”

“I know about that Mrs. Holt. Thorpe, someone gave me the wrong information.”

“Someone gave
you
the wrong information! That’s funny, that’s
really
funny. Do you know the kind of trouble I’m in? I could be kicked right out of this school, Hagerman!”

“You are not in any trouble, Thorpe! You are an innocent party in a very nasty hoax!”

“Are
you
going to tell them I’m innocent?”

“Them,
Thorpe? Who’s them?”

“The police, Hagerman!”

“Sit down, Thorpe. Stop shouting and sit down. Do you want the whole house in on this?”

“The whole house is downstairs eating breakfast, Peter! I can’t eat breakfast! I read the paper, and I puked!”

“Sit down, Thorpe.”

Hagerman stretched out on his bed and put a damp washcloth over his face, leaving his mouth uncovered. He said, “Now listen to me. Carefully. There is a psycho loose in this city, and we were his victims. Now. This certain psycho, whom I have not laid eyes on, scrawled a note on the wall of the men’s in a Socony station where I went for gas yesterday morning. Now. This note gave Matilda Holt’s address, and this note said, The best piece of tail this side of the river. She works alone. Five dollars for fifteen minutes. She looks like anything but what she is. Tell her Turtle sent you.’ … Thorpe, it happened that way, and I cannot express myself, but, Thorpe, I swear to you on a stack of Bibles, I had no idea that poor woman was the object of some obvious psycho’s sick cruelty!”

“What about the phone calls? Did we make any phone calls to her?”

“Thorpe, may I ask you a question?”
“What?”

“Are you even remotely aware of my feelings about Vietnam? Do you know that I did a thirty-page paper on Peter Dawkins? Are you even
remotely
aware of how it turned my stomach to hear that burlesque of the song about the Green Berets, which you and Shepley were amusing yourself with the other afternoon?”

Thorpe sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“Do you honestly think I would willfully persecute the mother of one of our fighting men risking his life in Vietnam?”

“No. I guess not.”

“You
guess
not, Thorpe? You
guess
not, mother-lover?” “All right. I know you wouldn’t. But what about those phone calls?”

“The person who made those phone calls, Thorpe, is obviously the sick, demented, cruel creature who defaced the wall of the Socony station men’s room.”

“What are we going to
do,
Peter?”

“We are not going to do anything, Daniel. We are certainly not going to bring disgrace on Pi Delta Pi, because we were the victims of a nasty hoax.”

“Peter, she can identify me.”

“She’ll never see you again, Thorpe.”

“How do I know? I could bump into her anyplace.”

“Where? At the Unmuzzled Ox? At the Co-op? Out on our front lawn? In the Administration Building? Use your head, Thorpe. She is a sad little woman who hangs around Far Point with other sad little women; she shops in the A and ? and Woolworth’s and her whole world is that crummy main street which runs through Far Point, and how often do you traverse that crummy main street?”

“I go to the movies in Far Point.”

“Then go to the drive-ins. They show better pictures, anyway.”

“It’s easy for you to be calm, Peter, but I — ” Peter Hagerman shot up into a sitting position. He said, “Have I got a wet rag over my face because I like wet rags over my face? Have I been swallowing Gelusil because it tastes good? Am I downstairs eating breakfast? Did I get any sleep last night after Bud told me about all of this? Are you OUT OF YOUR MIND, MOTHER-LOVER?”

“Okay, Peter.
Okay
… I didn’t mean you weren’t worried.”

“I’m sick inside, Thorpe. I think of that poor woman, and it makes me
sick!”

“Maybe we just ought to tell the police. They’d understand.”

“They would, Thorpe? Are you SIMPLE?” “Wouldn’t they?”

“Thorpe, doesn’t your dull brain entertain
any
notions of self-protection? Don’t you realize that anyone in this fraternity could tell the police you’re a Vietnik?”

“I don’t agree with our policy in Vietnam; does that make me a Vietnik?”

“In the eyes of the police, it makes you a very logical suspect, Daniel. And you were very drunk last night. You know you puked in the street? You know we were eighty-sixed from the Ox?”

“I hope to hell
you’d
stand up for me.”

“You were back and forth to the men’s a dozen times. How could I swear you didn’t make a phone call, or ten phone calls? I wasn’t taking you to the john and back, you know … Thorpe, the police wouldn’t believe either one of us, and that’s a fact! Daniel, for our own sake, and for the sake of Pi Delta Pi, we’ve got to keep this between you and me.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” “You
suppose,
Thorpe?” “I know you’re right.”

“I hope to God you haven’t already blabbed to Shepley!” “I haven’t told anyone.”

“Good!” said Hagerman. “I just hope they catch that sick creep; I’d like to get
my
hands on him.”

Things had a way of working in Hagerman’s favor. After Thorpe left, while Hagerman was dressing, Burroughs came into the room, and shut the door, and sat down on his bed with a very long face.

Hagerman said, “What’s the matter with you?”

“This is strictly confidential, Peter. All right?”

“All right.”

“You remember our talk last night?” “Sure.”

“Well, you were sort of loaded, so I don’t think you realized how upset I was. My old man really read me out. He’s pretty good-natured, so when he busts a gut it shakes me up. You passed out and I didn’t sleep at all, and I got to worrying about my Spanish grades, because I’m darn close to flunking, and that’d be all I’d need.”

“So?”

“So it was late; it was after two, but I was wide awake and I figured I’d go over my vocabulary. I went up to study hall for about an hour. I was just putting the light out when I heard someone coming up the stairs. I wouldn’t have thought anything, but it was the way he was coming up the stairs, like he was sneaking up the stairs.”

“Who
was sneaking up the stairs?”

“Shepley. Peter, he went into Blouter’s suite, and he turned on the light, and he shut the door. He was in there for a while, a few minutes, and finally I opened the door, and he was fumbling around in Blouter’s closet.” “What’d he say when he saw you?”

“He got very red in the face, and he said something about having a lot to drink, and being in the wrong room.” “Is
that
right?”

“But he wasn’t drunk, Peter. He came up those stairs as quiet as a cat. I don’t think he could have managed that drunk.”

“He couldn’t have, Bud. He couldn’t have.”

“I don’t think he could, either.”

“Bud, are you thinking the same thing I am?”

“What are you thinking?”

“That we caught our klep.”

“I don’t know that I’d go
that
far.”

Hagerman said, “I’d go that far. Bud, I think we ought to call a chapter meeting.”

“Let’s wait for Blouter to get back. Let’s ask Blouter. We can’t do anything without Blouter anyway, and anyway, maybe he
was
drunk.”

“So Shepley’s the klep. Very interesting. I knew that mother wasn’t any good the second I set eyes on him!”

“We can’t jump to conclusions, Peter.”

“I’m not going to jump; I’m there, Bud. I knew that mother was a sneaky mother!”

“But let’s not jump the gun, okay? Okay, Peter? Let’s watch him.”

“I want to think about it,” Hagerman said. “I want to give it lots of thought. I won’t jump the gun, Bud.”

• • •

But there were always stumbling blocks, weren’t there? There was always something you could not predict; there was
always
something in the way, just when you thought the way was clear. It was the story of your whole rotten little life, from kindergarten to grade school to Choate to Sandstone Military Academy to Overland Military Academy to Frick School to Far Point College. You just never had any PEACE. You just never had a CHANCE to calm down and carry on. Every time you picked yourself up, you got another push; it was beautiful the way the mothers wouldn’t let you rest; wasn’t it?

“I’ve been outside waiting for Burroughs to leave, Hagerman, that’s where I’ve been.”

“No, Shepley. I didn’t mean where were you this morning., I meant where were you last night?”

“I was home, Hagerman. I was visiting my family in New York.”

“I meant where were you about three o’clock last night?” “I was in Blouter’s suite, Hagerman. Didn’t Burroughs tell you?”

“He told me, mother. What were you doing in Blouter’s suite. I’m very interested in your answer to that. So is Burroughs.”

“I was looking for the letter my mother wrote to Blouter. You know, about the silverware?”

“You still think such a letter was written, hah? You’re sick.”

“My mother admitted it, Hagerman. I was all worked up when I got back to the house last night, so I went up to Blouter’s suite to see if I could find the letter. You know how it is when you’re all worked up? I didn’t know what I was going to do with the letter. A letter like that is very embarrassing. You can appreciate that. Very humiliating. I guess I wanted to destroy that letter. But then Burroughs surprised me, and I gave him some cock-and-bull story about being drunk and being in the wrong room. It was a good thing I didn’t blurt out the reason I was really there, wasn’t it?”

Hagerman mumbled, “I have a class; I have a ten-thirty.”

“I’m cutting my classes today, Hagerman.”

“Mother, I don’t CARE what you’re doing!”

“You’d better care. I might have a nervous breakdown, Hagerman. A joke is a joke, see, but now that I know it’s really true, I’m very tense.”

“I paid you a hundred and fifty dollars! That ended the matter!”

“Not for me, not after my mother told me it was true. I might have a real breakdown, same as Osmond. Remember how Osmond carried on? You were responsible for his breakdown, too. You could get quite a reputation, Hagerman. With the kind of reputation you could get, I think Blouter would probably consider deactivating you. What do you think?”

Hagerman flung the book he was carrying to the floor.

“Temper, temper, Hagerman. I haven’t lost
my
temper. I had
myself
under control. You really have to admire me, too, for controlling myself last night when I was so worked up. I could have spilled my guts to Burroughs, but I didn’t. Burroughs probably thought I was robbing Mike. Isn’t that what Bud thought?”

Hagerman said, “You better leave me alone, Shepley. You’re carrying this thing too far.”

“Is that what you told Osmond? You see, you can’t reason with someone who feels very tense. About the only thing you can do with someone who’s very tense is give them something to take away the tension. My tension would probably go away for a few hundred dollars.”

“I don’t have that kind of money. You MOTHER! I don’t have any money left.”

“I’m very, very tense, Hagerman. I really am.”

Hagerman said, “Shep, listen, I’m not rich. If I were rich — “

Shepley interrupted him. “Don’t whine, Hagerman. It increases my tension.”

“I gave you my LAST CENT YESTERDAY!”

“We could drive into New York, Hagerman. I bet your family would lend you some money. If my family’s willing to give silverware for me, yours ought to be willing to do something to help you out. That’s what families are for, don’t you think? If you can’t count on your family, who can you count on?”

“You’re blackmailing me!”

“That’s a very perspicacious observation, Hagerman.” “You’re BLACKMAILING ME, YOU MOTHER!” Shepley answered, “It’s a little something I learned from
my
mother, you mother.”

Fifteen

Dearest Janice,

It’s strange how you can hate someone, and then when you understand what makes him tick, you find your hatred for him dissolving into sympathy. Into pity.

Today I took it upon myself to confront a pledge, whom I had reason to believe was stealing from other members of the fraternity. Our president is away in St. Louis, and as Pledge Director, I felt it was my duty to cope with the situation. I frankly admit that I never liked this pledge very much. That is a matter of record. I have a way of detecting bad character, and from the start, I was uneasy in the presence of Charles Shepley.

Often I had the feeling — I can’t explain why — that he was a very dangerous person. A violent person. Perhaps a psychopath, though that sounds rather dramatic. But I did have such a feeling about Charles Shepley.

I deplore violence, unless it is a necessary means to a worthwhile end, such as it is in Vietnam, for instance.

For this reason, I believe that I actually hated Charles Shepley. Can you imagine me hating someone? Probably not, but there you are; the human mind is filled with contradictions and complexities.

But I no longer hate Charles Shepley. I pity him perhaps more than I have ever pitied another person.

Yes, he is the one who has been stealing from us. He admitted this to me. It was almost as though he were waiting for someone to accuse him, so that he could let go the terrible mental burden he has been shouldering since his arrival at Pi Delta Pi. Have you ever seen a man cry? I hope you never do. It is not a pretty sight.

In a few hours, I am going to drive him into New York, where he lives. I have promised him that I would not tell anyone, until he is away from here. I have promised to send on his things, so that he need not experience any embarrassment, nor be forced into any explanations. There is yet another sad note to this story. The other night, his family revealed to him that his membership in this fraternity depended on their gift of a set of silverware. We have all known this, and of course, we kept it from him. I never approved of the arrangement, but the majority voted for it, even though Charles Shepley was not Pi Pi material.

It is my guess that upon making this discovery, or rather, upon being inflicted with this information by his family, he wanted to be caught stealing. My roommate found him in the president’s suite, rifling the closet. He was red-faced, and offered the weak excuse that he had drunkenly found his way into the wrong room.

I am not sorry I confronted him. I think he might have had a serious breakdown. Nor am I sorry that I was taught a lesson by this experience: there is a reason for everything a man does. There are stumbling blocks in the way of men which we have no way of divining, pressures upon men which we have no way of appreciating, fears and anxieties in the hearts of men which we would never guess were there. Some men will never be able to calm down and carry on; others will struggle to survive, and learn to cope, and do what they must to exist.

I have more to say, but I will finish this when I get back.

I have to laugh at myself for once feeling that Charles Shepley was dangerous or violent. Usually, I am right, but not this time. Poor guy!

More later —

When Bud Burroughs returned from his three-thirty class, he saw the letter under the note that Hagerman had left him, requesting that Burroughs conduct the Purgatorio.

It was a very simple Purgatorio; the pledges were to solicit funds on campus for medical supplies to aid the fighting men in Vietnam.

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