04: Facing the Music in Public

Nobody looks good in their darkest hours.

But it’s those hours that make us what we are.

Karen Marie Moning

He answered after the third ring, the clock already ticking down the minutes Phil had access to the phone. “Mathew Tate.”

“Mathew, I’m ... in a bit of a pickle. I’m currently in jail and this is my one call. I need help.”

“Okay, calm down, we’ll work this out. Where are you and what are the charges?”

“I’m in the county lockup in Upper Darby. They’re charging me with public nuisance and intimidation.”

Mathew chuckled. “What, some customer stiffed you?”

“No, I’m innocent. I was entertaining some folks, got a little free with my cane, and the police overreacted.”

“You didn’t say anything, did you?”

“No, they’ve been trying to intimidate me, but I don’t trust them. They’re pretty ... livid. I didn’t think they’d take anything I said at face value. They tried to prevent me from calling you, restricting me to the interview room.”

“That’s their modus operandi: pressuring you until you accidentally incriminate yourself. If you allow them, they’ll exhaust you until you don’t know what you’re saying. You did the right thing. Don’t say anything more, I’ll come down and see what I can do to sway them. They’re probably collecting evidence before deciding whether to charge you or not. The chances are the charges aren’t definite yet. Hopefully I can influence their decision. You’ve never had any legal troubles before aside from a few business-related lawsuits, so I don’t anticipate any significant problems. You should be out by tomorrow. Do you need me to contact your family?”

“Absolutely not! I’d rather not alarm them. It’s easier telling them after the fact, than worry them about something they have no control over. Besides, this is a little ... embarrassing.” He paused. “You can’t get me out sooner?”

“The law moves slowly, cases often take months to bring to trial and criminal proceedings take time. If we can release you before they file charges, it shouldn’t take long. However, if they charge you, you’ll be lucky if it only takes a day to get you released. It’s not unusual for it to stretch out several days, even for simple charges.”

“They keep offering me drinks, but I refuse. My refusal to drink is pissing them off. They keep threatening me.”

“You’re right to refuse. They’re on a fishing expedition. Since they’re unsure of the charges, they’re looking to take your DNA in hopes you’ve committed some other crime they can charge you with. They’re angry you’re not stupid enough to fall for their ploy.”

“Anyone who’s ever watched television should know that much. It’s surprising anyone falls for their techniques.”

“You’d be surprised how many do. It beats doing honest police work: interviewing witnesses, collecting evidence, following leads. It’s best not to say a thing until I get there. Then you’ll be able to straighten them out and I can intervene before you say the wrong thing. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“Good, because they’re about to cut me off. Just—” The line went dead before he could finish the sentence.

The detective entered the interview room. “All right. You’re done here. Let’s go.”

The same little red demons who’d surrounded Officer Andrews fluttered around Detective Jones, as they did a quarter of the officers Phil observed. He didn’t take it as a good sign, as most of those afflicted seemed short tempered and agitated.

“You’re charging me? Shouldn’t I speak with my lawyer before I’m processed?”

“No. No one was willing to press charges. You’re being released,” he said as he led him out into the squad room.

“No one complained?” Phil asked, unable to believe it. He worried he’d come on too strong with the last person he’d confronted, scaring him instead of reassuring him first.

“Not a one,” Jones admitted. “That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, though. We’ll be watching, waiting for you to slip up. You’re too nervous, acting guilty. We don’t know what you’re up to yet, but we’ll find out. When we do, we’ll come down on you hard.”

“You’re assuming guilt despite a complete lack of evidence? Isn’t that considered harassment? I’m a respected member of the community, with an established business and multiple community ties. Why would you assume I’ve suddenly become a common criminal? Where’s my financial motive? What would I gain by abandoning a successful business?”

“Look, just watch your step and we won’t have any troubles. When people try to hide something from the police, it isn’t generally for the public good.”

“So I’m free to go?”

“Not yet. You still need to sign a few forms and collect your possessions.”

“You haven’t allowed me to see my lawyer. I’m not about to sign anything until he examines every document. You have no reason to suspect me, but I’ve got plenty not to trust you.”

“Your choice, it’s no skin off my neck,” he said as Phil sat in the chair beside his desk.

Phil sat, crossing his arms and leaning back, watching the devils dance faster than ever. “Good, now get me my damn lawyer.”

Surprisingly, it wasn’t that late when Phil was back on the street again. Mathew gave him a lift to his car, though Phil asked him to drop him off at the corner instead. He was sure the short drive would appear on his bill, which he wouldn’t owe if he waited longer before calling. However, he couldn’t avoid it without phoning home, and he was willing to pay to ensure he wasn’t railroaded.

Between how he approached the schizophrenic which attracted the cops, the growing array of mythological figures, and how to evade trouble again; he had plenty to consider.

He realized he needed to identify each species, as they seemed to be associated with a different mental condition. Some, like the devils and demons, were especially dangerous, but he wasn’t sure the others were harmful. He doubted they were beneficial, but needed to understand which to prioritize. Even with the schizophrenics, those without pitchforks weren’t as threatening—at least those who didn’t use them weren’t. The smaller they were—even though they were all diminutive—meant the threat was diminished. Although today reinforced that his efforts improved each person’s mental state, he had no clue how long the effects lasted. If it didn’t last longer than a couple days, it wasn’t worth risking his future for. No matter what, it would be difficult ignoring them, knowing what they were capable of. In short, he needed to figure out what he was dealing with if he hoped to make any difference.

He neared his car, studying the various people with various shapes hovering near their heads, when he heard footsteps approaching from behind. Anticipating a repeat of earlier, or someone he’d scared looking for revenge, he turned, fearing the worse.

“I see they let you go. I hope they didn’t hassle you too much.”

The woman addressing him, a younger Asian with blond hair he’d never met, was slightly out of breath from trying to catch up with him.

“Excuse me, but you waited all this time on the odd chance I’d stop by?”

She giggled. “I work in one of the shops in this complex. My brother was one of the people you performed for. When I saw you, I was afraid he might have offended someone. When I talked to him afterwards, he seemed better than he’s been in years. He was happy, clear headed and rational.”

“Pardon me, but I don’t recall meeting anyone who looks like you.”

She giggled again, her dangling earrings jangling, her rose-colored glasses highlighting her bright red lipstick, contrasting with the pale skin. “He’s my half-brother, same father, different mother.”

“Sorry, but that doesn’t help me place him. There were a couple of people who seemed a little ... distracted. Not that it matters one way or another.”

“He’s thin, brooding, dark, silent and depressing. He’s also got a red goatee, which he doesn’t trim very well.”

“Oh, I remember him now. The one after which the cops cornered me. I’m glad to hear he’s doing better. As you said, he barely responded when I first approached. I was afraid I scared him. However, I didn’t do much, just danced a little jig. I doubt it’ll have any lasting effect, but it’s pleasant seeing people smile for a change.”

She cocked her head, no longer giggling. “Somehow, I’m skeptical. He’s been schizophrenic since high-school, most days, he hardly recognizes when I speak to him because he’s not sure I’m real. He’s still disturbed, but the difference in his behavior is significant. Certainly more than a simple tap dance would affect—especially one as clumsily performed as yours.”

“That’s the key. It’s funny seeing an older man who should know better making fun of himself. It’s the juxtaposition that’s humorous.”

“I find that hard to swallow. After you were hauled off, I talked to the people you interacted with. Each suffered from a different mental disorder, not all obvious, yet you zeroed in on each.”

He headed towards his car, maintaining the conversation, “As I said, I was trying to bring smiles to the humorless.”

“There’s more to it than that,” she continued, following him. “You did something. I’m curious what. Whatever it was, I’d like to know so I can try it in the future. The next time my brother goes off, maybe I can get him to respond long enough to keep him from running off or hurting himself.”

Phil sighed, leaning against his car. “Honestly, I didn’t do anything. As you say, I’m not even good at what little I did.”

“It’s like your little trick with the kids. I suspect you used your dance to distract everyone while doing something else, something no one noticed.”

“You really interviewed everyone I spoke to, didn’t you?”

“They were concerned, afraid they’d gotten you in trouble. Not only that, but while you were sitting in the squad car, the police cornered each, interrogating them. We got together to compare notes, trying to determine if there was any way we could help you. The majority of those you performed for were friends of my brother. Their families know I look after him, so they count on me to watch over them. Yet you spent longer with each than you did with the kids. You targeted them for a reason, and it’s got to be related to their diagnosis. You can level with me, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Pardon me, I don’t mean to be rude. My name is Phil Walker.”

“Mine is Emma. My brother is Ethan Stewart.”

“Emma, even assuming I have some secret, it’s not anything I could reveal. What’s more, I may recognize your brother’s illness because I suffer from something similar. I’m not sure what I see is real.”

She leaned in, staring into his eyes. As uncomfortable as such scrutiny was, Phil restrained his desire to pull away.

“So you admit to seeing something the rest of us don’t. The fact your impromptu diagnoses are spot on implies you aren’t imagining things. My brother responding so much better after only a few seconds with you reveals what you’re doing is real, even if you don’t trust it.”

She pulled back, leaning against his car herself. “Your eyes are steady and clear, your speech isn’t disjointed. You’re focused. Whatever you see, you don’t appear to be suffering from delusions. I suspect you were experimenting today, testing your abilities to see just how valid they are. If so, you must realize how effective your techniques are. If you can’t admit what it is, at least give me a clue so I’ll know how long it’ll last, or how I can imitate it.”

Phil sighed, leaning against the roof of his car, tilting his head back. “There’s nothing you can duplicate without knowing what to respond to. However, you’re right. I was experimenting, only I don’t know how permanent it is. It would help if you can let me know how soon your brother relapses. If he does, I can repeat what I did today, but if it only buys a day or two, it isn’t much.”

“Believe me,” she said, grinning with the satisfaction of proving her point, “if you only buy me a couple of days during a crisis, it’ll be ideal. You only need to stabilize him long enough for him to take his medication, and he’ll get better on his own. The problem is, they go off their medications because they dislike the effect it has on their thinking, and then can’t recognize they aren’t rational. They resist taking it again, but once they do, they recover within a couple weeks.”

She paused, staring at him intently. “Please, this is important. As I said, I not only look after him and his friends, but others whom neighbors bring to me. If you can intercede whenever they’re about to go off the deep end, we’d all be extremely happy. Believe me, keeping silent about your secret is a minor trade off. However, if it makes you feel better, I won’t need to admit it to anyone. All you’d have to do is show up occasionally and you could avert multiple crises. Hell, if you’re nervous being spotted, I can always arrange meetings in private.”

“You might be able to keep quiet, but I doubt your brother will. He’ll inform his friends, who’ll tell their families they don’t need to bother with their medication because they have a better solution.” He shook his head. “I might carry it off once or twice, but even that’s risky. I don’t even know how successful my treatment is, or whether it has any real effect. For all we know, it might dissipate after a few hours. Their condition might be worse than they were before. If they suffer from brain chemistry disorders, I doubt I’m rebalancing the necessary components they require. It’s more likely I’m stealing what little they need to purchase a temporary relief.”

“If that’s the case, then you need to document it. The best way is with a test case where you can control the circumstances. I can provide both. If your treatment lasts, we can build on it, only calling you during crisis points. I can also supply additional subjects for you to perfect your techniques with.”

Phil held his head, shaking it to signify his troubles accepting her offer. “You’re making it difficult to say no.”

“You don’t need to. All you have to say is, ‘I’ll try it once’. If it works, then you try again. If something goes wrong, you lie low for a while. It’s safer than attracting the interest of the police.”