CHAPTER 62

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Carol, Phil, and Bender walked diagonally down the courthouse steps, angling toward the parking garage.

Friday intercepted Bender.

“Will he ever be better?” she asked.

“Valproate,” Bender said. “It’s an anti-convulsive. We dose Harry up. Within a day, maybe two, the delusions begin to vanish.”

“It’s that easy?” Carol asked.

“Or Clozaril,” Bender said. “Just as effective. Just as quick. Or Phenolal. Similar. But even more effective. Schizophrenics who’ve taken it have been out there for years. Twenty-four hours, completely changed.”

“Changed?” Friday asked.

“The advantage is you don’t have to keep giving it,” Bender said. “One dose and—” He snapped his fingers. “Symptoms abate. A miracle.”

“This miracle,” Friday asked, “one dose and … Is it irreversible?”

“In many cases,” Bender said, “yes.”

“Many cases?” Friday said.

“It’s for the best,” Carol said to Friday. “For him. For you. They’ll straighten him out. You’ll finally be able to get on with your life.”

“He has to cooperate, doesn’t he?” Phil asked.

“Have you ever known Harry to be difficult?” Friday said.

“He’s always difficult!” Phil said.

“He’s a people-pleaser,” Carol said.

“I suppose that’s one way to describe it,” Friday said. To Bender, she said, “He’ll cooperate.”

“There’s more than one way to skin a cat,” Bender said.

“I wonder what the cat thinks about that,” Friday said.

Harry came down the courthouse steps with Rossiter and two cops. Rossiter saw Friday and gestured to the uniformed cops to leave Harry and Friday alone for a moment.

“Seventy-two hours,” Harry said, “and I’ll be out, get back to work.”

“They have a drug,” Friday said. “If you take it, you could…”

Friday hesitated.

“Could what?” Harry asked.

Friday, near tears, couldn’t answer.

“Friday, I’m a good detective,” Harry said. “From the evidence, I’d say you want me to take this drug.”

Without meeting Harry’s eyes, Friday nodded her head.

“Happy to oblige,” Harry said.

“Pack a suitcase for him,” Bender told Carol. “Comfortable clothes. A bathrobe. Pajamas.”

Two burly psychiatric orderlies led Harry away. The first orderly stumbled as he lost the heel of his left shoe.

Harry picked up the broken heel, which he handed to the first orderly, who said, “Into the van, sport.”

“Give me a minute,” Harry said.

He shook hands with Rossiter.

“Come visit,” he said.

“Sure, Harry,” Rossiter said.

Harry turned to Carol.

“Sis,” he said.

“If there was any other way…,” Carol said.

Harry gave her a kiss, turned to Phil and said, “I’ll even miss you, you son of a bitch.”

They shook hands.

“Get better, Harry,” Phil said.

Harry turned to Friday—who broke down.

“Oh, Harry,” she sobbed.

They embraced.

“Hey,” Harry said, “I’ve been in tougher jams than this.”

Harry adjusted his hat, which he pulled low over his right eye, and climbed into the van. One of the orderlies slammed and locked the door. He joined the other in the front of the van.

Bender waved them on. The van drove off.

“If he takes the drug tonight,” he said, “by tomorrow morning, Harry could be normal. Just like everyone else.”

“Yeah,” Friday said, wiping her eyes and nose with a handkerchief. “Just like everyone else.”