The Windows - 5. Chapter 5

The rest of May, and almost all of June, crept by at an agonizingly slow rate. Coop could barely function at work, but work was the only thing he had to keep him from going insane. He made every effort to do his job, and do it well.

At Pete’s unspoken, but obvious request, he never drove out to visit his crazed husband. He debated with himself about going there for Independence Day. He was at a loss what to do. He cried himself to sleep every night, trying to envision all the happy hours of making love with Pete. He’d get an erection, but it was almost impossible for him to maintain the erection. He couldn’t climax, so after a while he gave up trying.

He called Pete several times on their newly activated land line. Sometimes his husband answered, and sometimes he didn’t. When he did answer, he cut the conversation short.

“I’m busy,” he would say. “I’m cleaning the windows.”

Coop would think back to his short visit with Jim Watkins, and he would cringe. He knew he had to do something, but he didn’t know what. He thought of driving up in the middle of the night and smashing all the windows. But if they were possessed by some demon, maybe they wouldn’t break.

He thought about planning an intervention, but Pete could end up like Jim Watkins, and he vetoed that idea also. He never wanted Pete to spend his days in an institution. Every night he tried to devise a plan, but it had to be foolproof, and he wasn’t satisfied with anything he thought of.

Strangely enough, it was Chester Smith who inadvertently motivated him to get off his ass, and devise a viable plan.

Late one Friday afternoon, Coop was getting ready to go home for another lonely weekend, when he got a call from Chester.

“I hate to bother you Mr. Cooper,” Chester whimpered, “but I thought you should know.”

“Know what? Talk to me.”

“I went into Larsen’s general store about two hours ago, and Mr. O’Connor was there buying provisions. I couldn’t believe it was him. It’s obvious that he hasn’t shaved in weeks, and his hair is down to his shoulders. But that’s not the worst of it. He smells like a sewer. I don’t think he’s showered in a month of Sundays. Ken Larsen told me that he comes in for provisions every Friday afternoon between one and four. Ken says it’s getting worse every week, and he’s about to tell him he can’t come in again until he showers. I think you or someone in his family should get out here and take care of him. I hope you don’t mind me telling you all of this.”

“Of course not. Thank you for telling me Chester. I’ll take care of it.”

There was no doubt in Coop’s mind that Pete needed medical help, and he wouldn’t seek it for himself. But Coop was his medical surrogate, and he could use his power to have Pete committed. Then he thought about Jim Watkins again, and he knew that he couldn’t do that to Pete. He just had to keep thinking about how to handle this impossible situation in some other way. The idea fell in his lap on Monday morning.

*****

Franz and Hildegarde Hauser arrived in New York in 1722. They were from Prussia, young and newlywed. They had heard about the adventures of some of their friends in the new world, and it sounded very appealing to them. When they were told about the wide-open spaces and the beautiful mountains northwest of the city, they decided to come to America and settle in New York.

Their parents cried, wailed, and carried on, but they made the journey to the new world, anyway.. Franz knew exactly what he was going to do in New York. He had a cousin, Heinrich Hauser, who had emigrated to America five years earlier. It was he who kept urging Franz and Hildegarde to make their fortune in this land of opportunity.

Heinrich had set up a shop where he built a variety of buggies for the horse and buggy set. He was amazingly successful. Each buggy was designed by him, and was handmade. He had more orders than he could handle. He had three apprentices working for him. He wanted to begin to manufacture on spec, but he certainly had no time for sales.

When Franz arrived, he and his wife stayed with Heinrich and his family until they bought a small house of their own in the middle of Manhattan Island. It was newly constructed, and so far north of the mercantile district that they were practically in the wilderness, and that suited them fine.

Heinrich helped Franz find a suitable location, and he opened a shop for the sale of Heinrich’s buggies. Franz was very successful also, and he became quite wealthy.

As the years passed, the combined Hauser family invested in many growing businesses and they became richer and richer. During the migration westward, they built covered wagons, and later, they converted to stage coaches. Their success was made possible by the fact that they adapted to changing times, and changing demands.

In the year 1908, the head of the Hauser clan, Conrad Hauser, bought a Model T Ford. He was so fascinated by the inner workings of the auto, that he learned all he could, and he began to service his own automobile. It occurred to him that automobiles would be the transportation mode of the future. He decided to convert some of his factory into manufacturing auto parts.

He contacted Henry Ford, and proposed manufacturing auto parts for all of Mr. Ford’s automobiles. Even in Detroit, Henry knew of the Hauser family. He knew that they had a Midas touch. Everything they touched turned to gold, so he gave Conrad the contract.

By the onset of World War 1 the Hausers had several large auto parts manufacturing plants in various locations in the country. Motors were their main thrust, followed in later years by automatic transmissions, and still later by catalytic converters. The Hausers had researched and contributed to the development of these products.

The current patriarch of the family was Homer Hauser. Homer had three sons. The two eldest were already working side by side with him, and were ready to take over the empire. Unfortunately, his youngest son, Eric, was a ne’er-do-well, an exceptionally handsome one at that. He refused a higher education, and never worked a day in his life. He was the very definition of the label ‘playboy.’ What his father didn’t know was that twenty-year-old Eric was a gay playboy. Nobody knew, except the tricks he overpaid, but they never got his name.

However, there are worse things than being a playboy, gay or straight. Eric was mentally ill. He loved to set fires. Frankly, he was an arsonist. On more than one occasion, Coop’s firm had been the go-between in bribing policemen and judges, who were glad to sweep any accusations of Eric’s wrong doing under the carpet.

Coop’s senior partner, Martin Sullivan, had gone to Yale with Homer, and they were very good friends. The Hauser family was Sullivan and Cohen’s biggest clients. They were billed over a million dollars a year.

*****

Early Monday morning, Homer and Eric Hauser came into the office of Sullivan and Cohen. They didn’t have an appointment, but Homer requested to speak to Mr. Sullivan.

“Sorry sir,” the receptionist said, “he’s on vacation.”

“How about Mr. Cohen?”

“He’s in court. Would you like to speak to Mr. Cooper, sir? He’s a full partner, and Mr. Sullivan’s right-hand man.” She leaned forward, and in a conspiratorial whisper, she informed Homer that Mr. Cooper was the firm’s rising star.

As usual Homer was here on behalf of Eric’s antics. It struck him that maybe his son would relate better to a younger attorney, and vice versa. He consented to see Mr. Cooper.

The receptionist buzzed Coop’s secretary, and she took them to Coop’s office. When they arrived, introductions were made and both Eric and Coop knew immediately that they played for the same team.

‘I’m really very busy, Mr. Cooper,” Homer said, “so I’ll leave you with your client, and be on my way.”

As soon as Homer left, Coop closed his door and asked Sherry not to disturb them. She knew what the Hauser family meant to the firm in billings, and she was not about to disturb Coop, no matter what.

“Tell me what terrible thing you did.” Coop requested.

“I love to set bonfires,” Eric began. “I’m mesmerized by the flames.”

Coop was shocked. He had no idea that Eric was an arsonist. “Did you accidently burn someone’s property down to the ground? Is that why you’re here?”

“In a way. On Saturday morning, I started a bonfire in an empty lot. I thought I could keep it contained. I like it that way. The flames are more intense than a wide spread fire. I hadn’t realized how dry the brush was in the empty lot, and my fire started to spread rapidly. There’s a used car dealership next door to the empty lot, and I’m afraid a few cars were damaged before the fire department put out the flames. It was a hell of a fire, Mr. Cooper. You should have seen it.

“How many cars were damaged?”

“About seventy-five. I don’t know what the fuss is all about. I’m sure the dealership is heavily insured.”

Suddenly Eric’s story was fading from Coop’s hearing sense, and he got a vivid picture of the cottage burning to the ground. He knew just the man to do the job, even if he had to bribe him with sex. Finally, he got himself together.

“Have the police given you a citation?” Coop asked.

“No, they’re trying to decide if it was an accident. I had no intention of doing property damage. There was no malice aforethought,” he said, and broke out laughing.

“If you are cited, I’ll make sure it’s deemed an accident, and get you off.”

When Eric heard ‘get you off,’ he was sure it was a double entendre, so when the handsome lawyer told him he’d like to discuss the matter further, and asked if he could take him to dinner that evening, Eric said yes, immediately.