A Death in Canaan (11 page)

P:

Well, that does bother me. Could it be that I've totally put it out of my memory?

K:

RIGHT! This is our problem. Once we get this out in the open and get you the proper help, it will be over with.

P:

Would truth serum help? Sodium pentothal?

K:

This is better. I think right now, Pete, you're ashamed of the thing and you're afraid you'd go into a mental hospital. Let me speak from experience. I've known people who have gone into a mental hospital. They keep them, depending on who they are, in classes together. It's just like going to school. It's not like in the movies, where you're in a cage and people stare at you.

P:

It would be coming back and facing people I knew.

K:

We had a girl here one time, about eight years ago. She was seventeen. Probably she's twenty-five today. She had a hang-up, she was going around burning down all her relations' homes. Aunts, uncles, cousins. She sat right where you're sitting now. Exact same chair. That's the same chair we had eight years ago. Not the same polygraph, but the same chair. And she gave us reactions like this. She denied it for, oh, I don't know how long. I kept talking to her like I'm talking to you. Finally she admitted it. She thought the world hated her. Especially her relations. OK? We got her out of here. They put her in a mental hospital for three and a half months. She's a normal person today. Married, with a family. We still get Christmas cards from her, and she signs—I'm not going to tell you her name, it's none of your business—she signs it, and underneath she puts, Thanks. We know what she means.

P:

Did she realize she was doing it?

K:

Yes. Fortunately, nobody was ever in the house. She used to do it when they were away. But she gave me the same thing you're giving me now. Finally she told me. We got her the help, and she's a normal person today. As simple as that.

P:

I
want
to tell you I did it now. But I'm still not sure I
did
do it.

K:

Look, you're afraid. Nobody's going to hate you.

P:

The part that really bothers me is the band. That's my
life
.

K:

Three months out of your life. That's not a very long time. It's not the end of the world.

P:

It seems as though it is, though. She's gone.

K:

There's nothing we can do about your mother now, right? You're only eighteen, right? You got a long way to go in this world. We can concentrate on
you,
get you straightened out, so this thing that happened here will disappear. But if you don't talk about it it's not going to disappear and you're going to keep sliding down into a deeper hole. Right now you're at the point of this hole. You haven't dropped in yet.

P:

I've sometimes wondered if I'm mentally right.

K:

Let's see where we go from here. What instrument do you play in the band?

P:

Guitar. If I had to give up the band, I'd have no outlook on life anymore.

K:

Three months out of your life isn't going to hurt you.

P:

Missing band practice …

K:

First we gotta straighten Peter out. If you don't get straightened out you're gonna screw up the band worse. You're gonna be strumming away some night and you're going to be off-key.

P:

My outlook on life now is a big question mark.

K:

I think this is why this thing happened. I think you're mixed up.

P:

I
know
I'm mixed up now.

K:

You're a little mixed up upstairs. I'm not saying you're nuts, don't get me wrong. You're confused. Now, you went in the house and saw your mother. Lying in bed or standing there?

P:

Lying in bed. It seemed, you know, like a double take.

K:

Possibly she said something to you. “You son of a bitch, where ya been all night?” And you went off the handle.

P:

She was always calling up after me. I didn't get the freedom of being eighteen.

K:

Eighteen, you're a man, according to the law. You're a free man, you can vote, you can drink, you can do anything you want. Your mother wouldn't let you go, huh?

P:

No. You know, the apron strings. Actually, I think my mother could have used help herself. There's a record in my family of mental problems. My mom had an aunt who hung herself. My grandfather had a drinking problem. That's why I don't like to drink so much.

K:

Is this what happened: You came home and because, as you said, you're tied to your mother's apron strings, she flew off the handle and went at you or something and you had to protect yourself?

P:

It's still not coming through. I still can't remember and I want to.

K:

This could be the whole thing. She could have went at you, and this is strictly a self-defense thing where you had to protect yourself. Do you follow me?

P:

But I'd still have a problem. I mean, self-defense goes just so far.

K:

But this is where you went off the handle. You lost complete control of your mind and your body.

P:

I wish I hadn't gone home last night. I wish I'd stayed at the Teen Center.

K:

We can't change that.

P:

If it hadn't happened last night, do you think it would have happened some other time?

K:

Possibly.… We have to think of the future. You got a long way to go in the future. I wish I had as long as you.

P:

Could I make an appointment with a psychiatrist?

K:

They'll arrange it for you, the fellows that are investigating. But first of all, we gotta know: Do we have a cold-blooded killer sitting here, or do we have a guy with a problem that needs to be straightened out?

P:

You don't have a cold-blooded killer sitting here.

K:

Then we have a guy with a problem. Now, tell me the problem, and we'll get you home so you can get some sleep, and Monday morning you talk to a doctor. You know, very few doctors work on Sunday.

P:

Very few doctors
work
.

K:

That's why I said Monday. Pete, I know people, and you certainly aren't a killer, all right? We gotta find out what it is. We have to get it out in the open. What did she say to you when you came in the house?

P:

The only answer I can think of would be from another night, when she might give me hell. “You're late, why are you late?” Something like that.

K:

Was she mad at you last night? She flew off the handle at you?

P:

I can't think of any reason.

K:

Why don't I let you sit here for a couple of minutes and meditate by yourself?

P:

I'm so damned exhausted.

K:

Yeah, but I think it's all coming out now. I might be confusing you. I'm just gonna walk out now. You just meditate there.

P:

I'm just gonna fall asleep.

K:

No you won't. I bet you won't fall asleep.

K:

I just called the investigators up in Canaan and from what I'm learning now I think I have a reason why it happened. They've talked to your friends. Every one of them said that your mother was always on your back. I think this is probably the whole thing. Last night you came in the house, she started buggin' you again. Am I right?

P:

I would say you're right, but I don't remember doing the things that happened. I believe I did it, now.

K:

I know that you know that you did it, but I feel you're afraid to come out and say it. I have no reason to hurt you, but I have reason to help you. I get more pleasure out of helping somebody, I want you to know that. I think you want to tell me, but you're ashamed to tell me.

P:

But do I realize I'm ashamed?

K:

Yes, you do. You tried to wash your mother off. That's why her clothes were all wet. You were ashamed.

P:

I don't remember that, though. Can you give me any more information about what they found up there?

K:

No. I told you what they learned. They learned your mother was constantly on your back, constantly nagging you, constantly after you. That's what I just learned on the phone. Last night you came home—you're a man—she started nagging and bitching and moaning and you lost control.

P:

It seems like that's what would have happened, but I don't remember it happening.

K:

Peter, you still don't trust me. What I want you to do is to tell me how it happened and then you're home free. You're halfway through the battle.

P:

I do trust you. But I have to say things to myself, too. I don't know what to say to myself to get these things out of me.

K:

If you trust me, tell me how you did it and I promise that we're on the uphill swing. I can understand you doing something like this, if she was constantly on ya. This could happen to anybody. This is just like a prisoner being tortured. The prisoners of war—these are whole Americans. They beat them down and beat them down and they finally say anything they want to hear, and they give out secrets, but they're still good Americans. It's the same situation here. Your mother kept nagging and nagging and finally you lost your self-control and you ended the nagging. It's exactly like I said—a prisoner being captured. You were captured by your mother. She wouldn't liberate you. She treated you like a little kid, but the law says you're a grown man. You've been nagged so badly; that phone call told me how she treated you. Am I right, Pete?

P:

You're right. Something's coming.

K:

Come on Pete, tell me. I told you the truth. Now I want to hear the truth from you.

P:

Somewhere in my head a straight razor sticks in.

K:

OK. What did you do with the straight razor?

P:

It's not that I had it. It's because there was a straight razor in the house.

K:

All right.

P:

And, when I looked for it, it was gone.

K:

When was this?

P:

This was last night and I thought—and I asked one of the police officers if it was there because they said there were some cuts or something. I asked if they looked like they could have been done with a straight razor or razor or something. They said they didn't know yet.

K:

Did she hit you first or did you hit her first? I think she hit you first. Am I right? She wasn't feeling good, she called the doctor, and she was pissed off because you weren't there.

P:

I don't think she hit me, though. But I don't think I have the power to break somebody's legs.

K:

When you're in a state like this, you become powerful. The adrenaline. You become twice, three times your normal strength under a stress situation, and I think what we had there last night was a stress situation. We know she was upset because she called the doctor.

P:

Maybe she wanted to go to Sharon Hospital and was upset because I had the car. That seems like a good reason. Sir, do you suppose I could get something to drink?

K:

Sure. Would you like a soda?

P:

Can I get a Coke?

K:

I'll have Jack go down and get some.

P:

Do you think I could have anything to eat, too?

K:

There's nothing to eat here. I'm getting a little hungry myself. But I think we should iron this thing out before we leave. You wouldn't be able to eat with this thing prying on your mind, you know what I mean?

P:

I feel hungry, then I feel like there's a pit in my stomach.

K:

Must be Jack with the sodas.

J:

Anything else, Tim?

K:

No, that's good, Jack.

This could be the whole thing. If we put a dinner in front of you, you wouldn't be able to eat it. Once we get this out you're going to eat like you've never eaten before.

P:

I been losing weight. I been missing meals.

K:

You can tell me how you think it happened. An argument?

P:

I could have got mad on the way home, maybe. The way the car was running, or something. I probably would have confronted her with the fact that she's got to get a new car. And from there, I'm blank. But whatever it is, it's got to do with her being in bed. Doesn't it?

K:

Did she get up and throw the book at you?

P:

No. As a matter of fact, the book was on the table in the living room. Tell me something. Will I remember this? Will I remember all the details?

K:

A little bit. Yeah.

P:

There was a bicycle—in the bedroom—near the wall. The way to get it in and out was through the back door, and they said the back door was open.

K:

Were you going for a bike ride?

P:

In the middle of the night? Not this kid. I haven't been on a bicycle in so long, not since I got my license.

K:

Tell me. You just thought of something. I can almost read it on your forehead.

P:

I'm just thinking of how tired I am.

K:

Once you get this out you'll be able to sleep for a week because your conscience will be free.

P:

When I get this out will I be totally cured? I feel so free now, like things that have had hold of me are letting go. It started last night when I started to fill out statements.

K:

Right. Because you don't have any more nagging, that's why.

P:

But the first thing I thought of, when I woke up, was that they were really giving me a rough time and I had to call my mom to help because if I ever got in trouble she'd be right there. And then I realized what happened.

K:

OK.

P:

Gotta keep digging. Gotta dig. Gotta keep pushing. I believe I did it.

K:

I
know
you did it.