8.) Mr. Life Advises Client

Twenty miles out of town,
and cold irons bound

-dylan (time out of mind)

The big key was in the lock of the sky blue iron door. What now, I've got a great movie on HBO here. I didn't ask for any cigarettes, I didn't push the red emergency button on the wall for a snack.

It was the Sheriff. He asked as usual how the accommodations were, and as usual he was more or less sincere, friendly.

"Your lawyers here, waiting in the library."

"Ah. Good god I was afraid it was that priest again." The library was twenty paces away but through three locked doors, then through the hallway where my big picture window was, so I could watch passers-by.

I got up and followed and he asked me, "You ever met him before?"

"No. His name is Life. I'm a little anxious."

"Ha, ha! I don't think they can give you more than 40 years, Mr. Jackson."

"Hm."

My lawyer looked like a cross between Mr Peepers and Bob Newhart. This was no movie and thank goodness he wore a tailored suit. But it shouldn't have mattered. Mr. Life's law office was off the town square, near the court-house and the coffee shop where all the town elders met each day to discuss the morning papers.

He stood up to shake my hand of course, and had his briefcase opened up on the metal picnic table.

"Greg Life," he said.

I began to tell him what "happened", then stopped and began anew, "This is what I did."

"Wait. First, are you the Rooftop Burglar too?"

"No. I'm the Drugstore Bandit. I don't know him."

"Ok. And did you hit the one in Des Moines too?"

"Yes."

"They're thinking you're the Rooftop Burglar. It's crazy." He scribbled something on his legal tablet. "People are so impressionable and that's not always good. Sometimes it is but not always.

"But listen! Let me tell you something interesting. You know that last pharmacist in Oakapalooka, the one who finally got your licence plate?

"His wife just got out of prison for stealing narcotics from him---yes!--- he caught her on a security camera, she used his keys. Her name is Barb and she is very sympathetic toward you.

"She's been in and out of drug rehabs for 20 years. Anyway, she knows your mom, she's a friend of Eby Flakner's. Hugh's wife.

"I was talking to your mom by the way, and she said that Barb had knocked on her door one rainy night and asked to use the bathroom! Well, that's an old trick, what she wanted was to check your mother's medicine cabinet."

"Oh... SAY! Do you know what!"

"Hold on. Barb stole a bottle of hydro-codeine from your mother and that's another reason she's come to us. Guilt I guess, to make amends. Here's the thing: Barb's husband, the pharmacist who chased after you, told her you were a pansy."

"So that's what happened. But that's incredible! I searched three days high and low for that bottle. There would have been enough of those pills left to last me to rehab."

I was missing Mr. Life's point.

"He said you were scared to death and you looked like hell and the only reason he didn't grab you was because he felt sort of embarrassed for you."

"So another pill head got into my mom's medicine cabinet. And it was the pharmacist's wife. That's...marvelous! A story-teller could..."

"Write nothing! The police have a hundred spiral notebooks already. This is important, John, because I have to establish that you were not threatening."

"I wasn't. I just said I was a hostage. My kidnapper wanted drugs."

"'Under duress', you wrote those words in one of the notes. The clerk didn't understand what 'duress' means, by the way. Yes, in each of the robberies you claimed you were being held hostage. This is very important to establish, and having Barb's testimony that he called you a pansy... "

"What a prick, that guy.Sent his wife to prison, eh?"

"He's been in trouble too. Exchanging drugs for sexual favors."

"From his wife?"
____
"Look. There will be a deposition eventually. I want to wait until every one of those drug store clerks has had time to calm down. I want the novelty of being robbed to pass."

I thought, well they'll have to be several more times, then.

"Now, Barb's husband is ornery. A town character. That's why I'm so glad we have Barb. He'll be under oath and I'll ask him if he called you a pansy and then he won't get started telling a tall tale or making himself out to be a hero."

"I see. He'll swear under oath that I'm a pussy." I started to laugh, "The front page headline will read ..."

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm already going to lose fans when they find out I'm not the Rooftop Burglar too."

"Now. You're still on the waiting list to get into the rehab. It's very good that you were already signed up to go in."

"Mr. Life, I want to sue the County Health Department. I was drinking a keg of beer a day, showed up at every psychologist appointment drunk, and they prescribed me Klonopin and Prozac."

"That's none of my business. Now, here are some letters your mother gave me..."

"New York. Thank you , Jesus." I put my forehead down to the cool table for a second.

"Please don't call me Jesus. Now. As soon as there's an opening, I'll get you out of here and up to rehab. Don't tell anyone! I'll send your mother to pick you up. Or, she'll know to come get you immediately once she gets the word that they have a room. And when you get out in a month, don't tell anyone. Stay in the capital city.

"Last thing..." he stood up now. "How are they treating you here?"

"I'll miss this place. Come back someday for a vacation. Got a stack of American Heritage bound volumes, got cable TV, blue walls very calming, a pretty girl bringing me food..."

"You're safe. You feel good now. But, yeah. Sharon wears a gun, did you notice? Ok, then. Good luck at re-hab."
____
Back in the cell I held the envelope--- her responding letter to my jail-house jotting---and savored her childish handwriting. There would be yelling inside but you couldn't tell looking.

"John,

Why are you apologizing to me? You've done this to your family. To yourself. No, I did not notice the dentist pills missing but you did steal my New York Yankees baseball cap and I want it back. And don't say well you live there. I want it back. John, at least now you are going to get some help. I talked to your mom, things sound good, considering (have you apologized to her???) I don't know what more to say, I hope you are out of jail and at detox or with that creep movie director, Roman whats his name, by now.

"I want to write a long letter because 'he's in jail!' but geez. It's not fair to me. That's not fair. This you can apologize for. All the drama. All the care-taking. TAKING. Never giving.

"You explain but I don't understand how any of this could have happened. I knew that you'd have to live with your mother if you went back to Iowa and I knew you wouldn't have the gumption to get out of there, not while still drinking and so depressed, you were also too comfortable. You know what, boredom is a good thing, John. It makes you get up and DO something. But you set off bombs! I don't understand. I never will but I guess according to your mother. Oh scratch that, see, don't apologize to me, you haven't brought shame on MY house or MY name. John, John, John. Doogie is back from Russia. The U.N. guy came over and tried to rape me by the way. I almost called the cops but he stopped, he left, he knows damn well not to show up here again. Doogie is starting his own business and has an office near my father. No surprise to you , I guess, he's always been so good to me, I do love him, my best friend since we were you know since forever except when I was being mean to him. I'm engaged! June wedding. I'm going to have babies and be a yenta. I'll send you an invitation but you will have to be sober to attend.

"love, Mariah"