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Authors: Jonathan Carroll
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looked at each other and waited for him to continue. He didn't.
Smiling, he wiggled his eyebrows. "I should have been an actor. How's that for dramatic tension?
I think they should cast Andy Garcia as me in the movie.
"The best part of being chief of police is I get to look in all the old files and see what really went on here when we were kids. There's still a file on you, Sam. Now that you're famous, you think I could get some money telling the world you were once half a juvenile delinquent?"
"Frannie, what about Pauline?"
"The case was open-and-shut. She had a boyfriend from college named Edward Durant. They arrested him, he confessed, they cut a deal with the prosecutor and sent him up to Sing Sing for life. He's dead."
Cass gasped.
Frannie ran a hand through his hair. "This is ugly stuff, Cassandra. You sure you want to hear it?"
She licked her lips, nodded slowly, then quickly.
"As soon as he got up there, the bad boys started using him for a fu --
uh, love doll until he couldn't take it anymore and hanged himself in his cell."
"Jesus! How old was he?"
"Twenty-one. Nice-looking boy. Highest honors at Swarthmore. But he didn't do it."
"Who did?" I realized I was breathing too quickly.
"I'm not positive, but I've got my suspicions. You didn't know Pauline did you? She was from another dimension. Why do you want to know about her now?"
"Because I want to write a book about what really happened to her."
Frannie took a long drag on the cigarette and put his hand behind his head. "Interesting idea."
He looked at the ceiling. "Come on, I want to show you a couple of things." He stood up and gestured for us to follow.
Out on the street he shot his cuffs and walked over to an unmarked Chevrolet. "Hop in."
Driving down the street in a police car with McCabe at the wheel made me laugh. "Frannie, I wish there was some kind of magic available where I could go back and say to fifteen-year-old me, 'Do I have something to tell _you_,'
"He'd never believe you. Here, look at this shitty store. You buy a pair of shoes in there, you're barefoot in two months. Remember Al Salvato?"
'Green Light'?"
"Right." He looked in the rearview mirror at Cass. "Al Salvato was a _svacim_ we grew up with. Whenever someone said something he agreed with, he'd say, 'Green light.' He thought it was cute."
"But Frannie didn't. He punched him in the nose for it."
"That's right. Salvato owns three stores here now. This is one of them.
He brought cheap shoes, a sex store, and bad Greek food to town. Ran for mayor last year and lost, thank God."
Chief McCabe's tour of Crane's View went up and down and all around. He pointed out who owned what, who of our old friends still lived there, and gave a funny running history of what had happened since I'd left. His information only furthered what I already assumed: New money had moved up from Manhattan, thus terminally yuppifying much of the old homestead. There was a cafe now that served cappuccino and croissants, an Audi dealer, a vegetarian restaurant.
What was left existed in a time warp that made the rest of the village look like it hadn't changed a bit. Witness Scrappy's Diner.
Page 28
Cass asked more questions than I did. From them, I was touched to hear she remembered many of the stories I had told her over the years. She and Frannie chatted away as he drove us around. After a while I tuned them out.
We drove up Baldwin Street and took a right on Broadway. I smiled, knowing where we were going. He stopped the car in front of a well-kept red and white house with a wraparound porch.
Large chestnut trees flanked it on both sides. It was in much better condition than when I had last seen it.
"You know this house, Cassandra?"
"No." She was leaning forward, her elbows resting on the seat between Frannie and me.
"This is where your dad lived."
"Really? He never showed it to me. Can we go look?"
We got out and stood on the sidewalk in front. "How come I've never been here before,
Smiling, he wiggled his eyebrows. "I should have been an actor. How's that for dramatic tension?
I think they should cast Andy Garcia as me in the movie.
"The best part of being chief of police is I get to look in all the old files and see what really went on here when we were kids. There's still a file on you, Sam. Now that you're famous, you think I could get some money telling the world you were once half a juvenile delinquent?"
"Frannie, what about Pauline?"
"The case was open-and-shut. She had a boyfriend from college named Edward Durant. They arrested him, he confessed, they cut a deal with the prosecutor and sent him up to Sing Sing for life. He's dead."
Cass gasped.
Frannie ran a hand through his hair. "This is ugly stuff, Cassandra. You sure you want to hear it?"
She licked her lips, nodded slowly, then quickly.
"As soon as he got up there, the bad boys started using him for a fu --
uh, love doll until he couldn't take it anymore and hanged himself in his cell."
"Jesus! How old was he?"
"Twenty-one. Nice-looking boy. Highest honors at Swarthmore. But he didn't do it."
"Who did?" I realized I was breathing too quickly.
"I'm not positive, but I've got my suspicions. You didn't know Pauline did you? She was from another dimension. Why do you want to know about her now?"
"Because I want to write a book about what really happened to her."
Frannie took a long drag on the cigarette and put his hand behind his head. "Interesting idea."
He looked at the ceiling. "Come on, I want to show you a couple of things." He stood up and gestured for us to follow.
Out on the street he shot his cuffs and walked over to an unmarked Chevrolet. "Hop in."
Driving down the street in a police car with McCabe at the wheel made me laugh. "Frannie, I wish there was some kind of magic available where I could go back and say to fifteen-year-old me, 'Do I have something to tell _you_,'
"He'd never believe you. Here, look at this shitty store. You buy a pair of shoes in there, you're barefoot in two months. Remember Al Salvato?"
'Green Light'?"
"Right." He looked in the rearview mirror at Cass. "Al Salvato was a _svacim_ we grew up with. Whenever someone said something he agreed with, he'd say, 'Green light.' He thought it was cute."
"But Frannie didn't. He punched him in the nose for it."
"That's right. Salvato owns three stores here now. This is one of them.
He brought cheap shoes, a sex store, and bad Greek food to town. Ran for mayor last year and lost, thank God."
Chief McCabe's tour of Crane's View went up and down and all around. He pointed out who owned what, who of our old friends still lived there, and gave a funny running history of what had happened since I'd left. His information only furthered what I already assumed: New money had moved up from Manhattan, thus terminally yuppifying much of the old homestead. There was a cafe now that served cappuccino and croissants, an Audi dealer, a vegetarian restaurant.
What was left existed in a time warp that made the rest of the village look like it hadn't changed a bit. Witness Scrappy's Diner.
Page 28
Cass asked more questions than I did. From them, I was touched to hear she remembered many of the stories I had told her over the years. She and Frannie chatted away as he drove us around. After a while I tuned them out.
We drove up Baldwin Street and took a right on Broadway. I smiled, knowing where we were going. He stopped the car in front of a well-kept red and white house with a wraparound porch.
Large chestnut trees flanked it on both sides. It was in much better condition than when I had last seen it.
"You know this house, Cassandra?"
"No." She was leaning forward, her elbows resting on the seat between Frannie and me.
"This is where your dad lived."
"Really? He never showed it to me. Can we go look?"
We got out and stood on the sidewalk in front. "How come I've never been here before,
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