“Not good. I’m glad it’s over.”
“You see much action?”
“A little. I really don’t like to talk about it. Do you ever hear from any of the guys?” Bobby asked to change the subject.
“A few visited me when I first was sent down, but I haven’t seen any of them in a while. Most of the guys wandered off after high school.”
Bobby glanced at his watch and Billy saw him.
“Say, if I’m keeping you, let me know.”
“No, it isn’t that,” Bobby said guiltily. “I have to be back, that’s all. I promised to help Mom around the house and I wanted to buy some stuff for my apartment.”
“You’re not staying at the house?”
“After the army, I wanted some privacy.”
Billy smiled and motioned around with his hand.
“I can understand that.”
Bobby stood up.
“Look, I’ll be down to see you again next week. I’ll bring Mom.”
Billy stood up too. They shook hands.
“That’d be great. So…Take it easy. And let me know how you do in school, huh?”
“Sure. I’ll let you know. Take care.”
The hour was up, anyway, but he felt guilty when he left. Scared, too. It was a cliché, but it could have been him. He knew it. So did Billy, and Bobby wondered if his brother resented his freedom and his new life.
The walk from the visitor’s area to the parking lot was tree-lined. The autumn winds were working changes on the yellow-brown leaves. It was beautiful enough to depress Bobby.
“Esther, I brought someone to talk to you.”
Esther looked over Dr. Tucker’s shoulder at the tall man who was standing by the door to her hospital room. Something about him frightened her. Why should she be afraid of him? She was too tired to think about it, so she lowered her head on the pillow.
“Esther, do you remember me?” the tall man asked.
She must have shut her eyes, because the tall man was towering over her bed instead of standing by the door. She could not remember him moving.
“She is still a bit sedated,” Dr. Tucker said. His voice was a faint echo.
“My name is Roy Shindler. I talked to you a few years ago when I was investigating the deaths of Richie Walters and Elaine Murray. Do you remember that?”
She was remembering now. Very slowly. He was older and his hair had thinned, but it was that detective. The one who…And suddenly she was afraid.
“I remember you,” she said in a small voice.
Dr. Tucker saw the fear on his patient’s face and looked quizzically at Shindler. Shindler ignored him.
“There isn’t any reason to worry, Esther. I know that I upset you the last time we talked, but it was unintentional. I really mean that.”
“What do you want?” Esther asked warily. She was holding tight to the sheet that was drawn up around her neck and memories, mirrored in her wide eyes, were pressing her deep into the bed, like an animal seeking protection in the shelter of its cave.
There it was again, thought Shindler. He did not think of her as human. He remembered his impressions of her on the two prior occasions they had met. It was always the feeling of the hunter when he traps his quarry. To him, she would always be an animal.
“When Dr. Tucker saw you yesterday, you had a little talk with him. Do you remember what you talked about?”
She looked at Dr. Tucker, then back to Shindler. She seemed confused.
“I don’t remember talking to Dr. Tucker yesterday.”
Shindler looked at Dr. Tucker.
“It’s possible,” Dr. Tucker said. “She’s had a very traumatic experience. The effects of the medication may have contributed.”
“Esther, yesterday, you told Dr. Tucker you saw someone hit someone until they killed him. Do you remember that?”
She opened her mouth and her eyes widened again.
“I saw…Oh, no. I never…”
“You did say that, Esther. I was there.”
She looked pleadingly at Dr. Tucker.
“Please. I couldn’t have said that. I never saw anyone killed. I told you that. You know I didn’t have anything to do with Richie’s death.”
“No one says you did, Esther. But, if you did see this terrible thing happen, it might have frightened you so much that you don’t remember.”
“No. I never saw it. Please, Dr. Tucker.”
She was crying and pleading. Dr. Tucker hurried to her bedside.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to leave now. She’s too upset. Wait for me in the hall, please.”
Shindler closed the door behind him and took a cigarette out of his pocket. The door opened and he turned around.
“Sorry I had to push you out, but she was starting to become hysterical.”
Shindler brushed the comment aside with his free hand.
“It was my fault. I should have realized that she was getting upset.”
They started walking down the corridor toward the doctor’s office.
“This business about not remembering. Do you believe her?”
The doctor looked at Shindler with surprise.
“Oh, yes. Quite possible. Mrs. Pegalosi could be suffering from amnesia. Certain types of people will repress a very threatening experience that they wish not to be identified with or not to have as a part of their life. The conscious mind is not even aware that the material is repressed in some cases. If she witnessed…Well, you know what it would have been like for anyone, let alone a girl as insecure as this one, to see that murder.”
They walked in silence for a few moments. Shindler puffed erratically on his cigarette.
“Damn it, she knows, Doctor. She knows. And I have got to find a way to make her talk.”
“I’m afraid that might be difficult.”
“Why? She remembered yesterday.”
“Yes, under very unusual circumstances. She was exhausted, medicated and she had just tried to commit suicide. In her weakened state, her ability to repress would be weakened. Her subconscious would be less on guard. It’s much like being drunk. Most drunks become garrulous and talk about things they might not under ordinary circumstances.”
“Is there any way to bring her back again? Some medical method?”
Dr. Tucker was silent for a moment.
“Memory is an interesting area that is receiving a great deal of attention. We really don’t know how it works.
“There are two types of memory: long-term and short-term. Short-term is probably an electrical event within the brain and it may not be long-lasting. It’s the sort of thing that happens when you drive to the beach and pass many things along the way. You see trees and farmhouses and so forth, and you can remember them for a short time, but it’s unlikely that your brain will record these permanently since they don’t have any emotional connotation.
“Long-term memory is probably a basic chemical or anatomical change which may persist as long as the brain cells function, that is for as long as you live. It seems to be more greatly impressed in the mind if it is associated with some emotional stimulus. Long-term memory is stored like books in a library, so, if Esther saw the murder, the memory is probably there. The question is how to get rid of the subconscious guardians that are suppressing the memory.
“I would like to give you the name of a friend of mine who might be able to help you. He is a psychiatrist and an expert in the use of hypnosis. That is a technique that is often used in the treatment of amnesia. Why don’t you get in touch with him and see what he can do for you?”
3
“Franz Anton Mesmer was a Viennese physician who believed that the planets influenced the human body. In 1776, he wrote a paper stating that this action occurred through the instrumentality of a universal fluid in which all bodies were immersed. The fluid, which was invisible, had properties like a magnet and could be withdrawn by the human will from one point and concentrated on another. Mesmer theorized that an inharmonious distribution of these fluids throughout the body produced disease. Health could be attained by establishing harmony of the magnetic fluids. Mesmer believed that a force, which he called ‘animal magnetism,’ emanated from his hands directly into the patient, thereby enabling him to adjust the internal imbalances in the fluids and to eradicate disease in the patient.”