To Whomever It May Concern

By Harry Harris

Comedians Vic Myers and Mark O'Brian were on top of the world. Their comedy act was considered one of the funniest in Show Business and not since Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin were any comics as popular or as idolized.

For almost ten years they enjoyed a brotherly love relationship, however, when Vic Myers unexpectedly discovered that Mark O'Brian had lied to him throughout the years and that he was responsible for the emotional anguish he was now facing, he would have gladly choked him to death, but he didn't want to pay the price for murder. He decided to find a way of launching his partner into eternity without sacrificing his freedom. He was certain that if he put his mind to it he could concoct just such a plan.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harry Harris
• Release date: Mar 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311110817

Book preview

TO

WHOMEVER

IT MAY CONCERN

By Harry Harris

Copyright 2015 Harry Harris

Published by HERCULES-APOLLO MYSTERIES

at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

#prologue

#Chapter1

#Chapter2

#Chapter3

#Chapter4

#Epilogue

#AboutAuthor

#Otherbooks

Prologue

Comedians Vic Myers and Mark O'Brian were on top of the world. Their comedy act was considered one of the funniest in Show Business and not since Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin were any comics as popular or as idolized.

For almost ten years they enjoyed a brotherly love relationship, however, when Vic Myers unexpectedly discovered that Mark O'Brian had lied to him throughout the years and that he was responsible for the emotional anguish he was now facing, he would have gladly choked him to death, but he didn't want to pay the price for murder. He decided to find a way of launching his partner into eternity without sacrificing his freedom. He was certain that if he put his mind to it he could concoct just such a plan.

Chapter One

No sooner had I entered the psychiatrist's office than I had second thoughts. '’I must be out of my mind,’ I said to myself, ‘there’s nothing wrong with me so what the hell am I doing here?’ The paradoxical thought made me smile:

‘For if I were out of my mind as I’ve just suggested to myself that I was, then this is where I should be. Nevertheless, these seemingly contradictory thoughts notwithstanding, I couldn’t understand what had possessed me to make an appointment to see the analyst. I’m sorry, Dr. Vaughan, I said I really shouldn’t be here!: Turning to leave, I added, I honestly don’t know why I came in the first place, you’ll have to excuse me."

Chuckling, Dr. Vaughan approached me and said, That’s exactly how I feel, I’d rather be some place else myself. The doctor put his hand gently on my shoulders and led me to the center of the room. Gesturing to me to sit in one of the two armchairs in front of him, he said, However, since we’re both here why don’t we make the most of our time together. With an amused expression he added whimsically, I’m going to charge you for the visit anyway.

The doctor’s charming manner was so disarming that I smiled at him and accepted his hospitality. As I sat down I uttered sheepishly, You’ve got to believe me, Doctor; I honestly don’t have any idea why I’m here; I don’t have a thing to say to you. Nothing.

I understand, Mr. Myers, the doctor said. However, there must have been something bothering you; something trivial that you may have wanted to discuss with me. The excitement of coming face-to-face with an old fuddy-duddy psychiatrist like me has probably pushed it temporarily out of your mind. It happens. I’m sure you wouldn’t have made an appointment to see me otherwise. When I didn’t comment to what he said, he added, Incidentally, Mr. Myers, may I call you Victor?

Yes, of course, I said simply. As I scrutinized the doctor’s smiling countenance I was certain that he must have been mindful of my unsightly appearance but I couldn’t detect anything either in his eyes or in his expression to reveal that he was even remotely aware of it. That pleased me immensely. Also gratifying was that Dr. Vaughan resembled the mental picture I had of old learned scholars for he was the spitting image of

Prof. Albert Einstein. If I hadn’t known better I would have felt that I was in the presence of the great physicist himself.

As the doctor sat down in the armchair opposite me, I quickly glanced around the room. Besides the armchairs the doctor and I were sitting in, there was a small table between us; an ornate desk and chair by one of the walls; a tea wagon with a Turkish coffee maker by another wall, and a bust of Sigmund Freud on a stand by the door. Aside from the photographs and diplomas on the wall I didn’t see anything else in the room and I was disappointed. I didn’t see the one piece of furniture that I was certain was ubiquitous in every analyst’s office, the couch.

Grinning, I said jokingly, Does the theory of relativity, Doctor, preclude you from having the well-known psychiatrist’s couch?

Chuckling, the doctor said, Although I’ve been told many times that I resemble the distinguished physicist, I’m not quite sure that looking like him is a compliment. Nevertheless, thank you, I’m sure you meant it as such. As for having a couch I’ve found it does old nothing but help me put my patients to sleep. However, it would be relatively easy to have one wheeled in if that’s what it takes to make you comfortable.

It was obvious that the doctor and I were in the same jocular wavelength and that pleased me as well. Grinning, I said, Thank you, Dr. Einstein, but I don’t think that will be necessary!

Leaning back in his chair and smiling benignly at me, the doctor said softly, Well…?

Dr. Vaughan, I said seriously, perhaps there is something bothering me. However, I don’t have the slightest idea what it is. One moment I’m depressed beyond belief and the next so elated I feel like singing at the top of my lungs. However, just before I plunge into those depths of sorrow I get migraines. I think I get these headaches because there’s something in the back of my mind that’s trying to tell me something, an important issue that I should know about. But it doesn’t succeed. It may not be anything as serious as I’m making it sound, but frankly, Doctor, it’s become very annoying.

Yes, I can see how that can be a bother, Victor.

I’ve been analyzed by psychiatrists before, Doctor, when I was a child; about my appearance, I mean, but I can’t recall the procedure.

Smiling, the doctor said, It’s very simple, Victor. All I want you to do is relax and talk to me. Say whatever comes to mind. I’ll comment and interpret what you say. The recurring themes and gaps in what you say will reveal to me the workings of your unconscious mind. Allow me to explain it to you this way. It’s like a black hole in outer space. You don’t see it but you know it’s there because the stars you can see are circling around it. The black holes of the mind are repressed unconscious memories of unresolved conflicts, frustrated desires, and unfulfilled relationships. They may emerge in safe symbolic forms, particularly when we dream, but normally they lurk unseen, influencing our actions and feelings. So, I believe that all we have to do at the moment, Victor, is for you to tell me a little about yourself. Perhaps that's all that will be necessary to help me ascertain what that little something is that's bothering you.

I frowned. I'd like to, I said, but I wouldn't know where to begin.

Grinning, the doctor said, The beginning may be just the place. Just relax and let your mind wander. Think back to the early days of your youth. Then, as you recall those precious days, tell me all about them. Ramble all you like. Your thoughts needn't be in any particular order, they can be in bits and pieces, important or otherwise, it doesn't matter. Just blurt out whatever comes into your mind as you recall some of the early days of your youth.

I smiled sheepishly. I'll try, Doctor, I said. Although I still felt foolish being there, I, nevertheless, closed my eyes and allowed my mind to wander back in time. As the thoughts raced through my psyche I slowly began to articulate them to the Doctor:

The camaraderie between my parents was something special, Doctor, I said smiling. One day when dinner was over my father took a cigar from the humidor on the sideboard and as he cut the tip off with his little guillotine, he chuckled and said, ‘I think I’ll go into the study and smoke this. That’s as good a place as any to enjoy a good cigar. Don’t you think so, Mary dear?"

My father’s comment made me smile. I winked at my mother for I knew that the study was the only room in the house that my mother permitted him to smoke in.

Chuckling as well, my mother said, I think that’s a sterling idea, Frank; I couldn’t think of a better place if my life depended on it.

Doctor, although I was only six years old I was precocious enough to thoroughly understand and enjoy the humor that my parents shared with one another. Their humorous repartee intrigued me. I harbored thoughts that one day I would enjoy similar badinage with the woman I married.

After my father left the dining room I helped my mother clear away the dishes. It was a chore I relished for I knew that the sooner the dishes were taken from the table and placed in the dish washer the sooner my mother and I would begin to enjoy quality time together: ‘Our private little hour’, as we referred to it. I cherished that time immensely; not only because I adored my mother and utterly enjoyed being with her, but those were the moments that I could discuss anything and everything on my mind. Abruptly I began to chuckle.

What's so amusing, Victor?

The fact that when I was a kid I thought my mother had psychic powers. So help me, Doctor, there were times that I could swear she not only knew everything that was on my mind but what questions I would ask her. I didn't know how she did it but sometimes she even answered my questions long before I asked them. My mother's supernatural powers never ceased to amaze me.

Smiling, the doctor said, I believe that particular aptitude in women is called motherhood, Victor.

Yes, I whole-heartedly agree with you, Doctor. Today, of course, I know better but at the time I truly believed that my mother had supernatural powers and always knew what was on my mind. That was the reason I was so bewildered by her reaction one day when I said, 'Mama, do I look like one of those ugly aliens from outer space?' I was certain the question threw her off kilter; however, I noticed that she recovered quickly.

My mother smiled sweetly at me and said, ‘My goodness, Darling; what a silly question. Why, to me, you’re the handsomest young man in the whole wide world.’

’Then why do all the kids at school make fun of the way I look? They’re always calling me names. Today, when I entered the classroom, one of the guys shouted, ‘Quiet, everybody! The freak’s here from outer space!’ It made all the kids in the room laugh. I gazed at my mother forlornly and added, ‘When I came home from school I looked into the mirror and I felt…

’My darling Victor,’ my mother said interrupting me, ‘let me tell you a story. When I was a little girl about your age I hated the way I looked. I felt like an ugly duckling and the children at school always made fun of me. They laughed and called me all sorts of names just like your little friends are doing to you. Because I didn’t think I was attractive my mirror became my worst enemy. Every time I looked into it I was upset and cried because I believed that my features were fighting one another for attention and making me unattractive. In other words, Victor darling, I hated the way I looked. However, as I grew older the features that I thought were at odds with one another seemed to have found a way of getting along, and I realized I wasn’t as bad looking as I thought, and…

’You’re beautiful, Mama,’ I blurted out, interrupting her.

My mother took my hands in hers and squeezing them affectionately, said, ‘Thank you, Sweetheart.’ And then smiling sweetly at me, she added, ‘Our features mellow with time, Victor, they change as we get older, they begin to get along with one another, and we, as well as our friends, no longer find fault with the way we look and our friends stop calling us names.’ Ruffling my hair playfully, she said, ‘Anyway, Darling, looks aren’t important in men. It’s character, humor, and personality that count. Ask your father, he’ll tell you! He should know! It was his humor that attracted me to him. That was the reason I fell in love and married him. It certainly wasn’t his looks. So ignore those so-called friends of yours. I’m positive that the only reason they’re teasing you is envy. They’re jealous because you’re so much smarter than they are! Right?’ She raised her hand and gave me a ‘High-Five’, and added, ‘Right on!’"

I dramatically slapped the palm of my mother’s hand with mine, completing the popular gesture and said happily, Right, Mama! Right on!’ My mother’s words, as usual, dulcified my spirits, Doctor. I couldn’t remember a time when my mother failed to soothe whatever torment I was experiencing at the moment. The kids at school had called me a freak from outer space and so had my mirror, however, I felt that since my mother’s features changed as she grew older and she became more attractive, the same thing would happen to me. Doctor, I left the kitchen that day feeling a great deal better about myself."

Unfortunately, Dr. Vaughan, as the years passed I realized that my mother was wrong about people’s appearances, especially mine. My features didn’t mellow with time as my mother predicted. I was forced to conclude that my features were not simply at odds with one another but at war, and I was old enough to know that there wouldn’t be any peace offerings between them as I grew older.

When I was twelve there was no doubt in my mind that I was ugly, frightful enough to sour milk. I understood, even at the vernal age, that I would always be the butt of contemptuous reproach. However, I learned how to cope with the taunting remarks that I was constantly confronted with. I learned how to turn gibes into laughs. I found that my screwing up my face into outlandish, albeit ludicrous expressions, I could turn an incident from something insulting into something facetious. It gave me a sort of masochistic pleasure to hide the painful feelings that I harbored about my grotesque appearance behind ridiculous tomfoolery, and I unwittingly began to enjoy making people laugh. I didn't want the doctor to misunderstand why I was there so I added quickly, Let's get this straight, Doctor; it's not my looks, that's not the reason I'm here.

Smiling warm-heartedly at me the doctor said, I didn't think it was, Victor.

I stared at the doctor a long time trying to determine if his answer was honest or if he were simply trying to mollify me but there was nothing in his expression to lead me to believe that he wasn't being straightforward. You know, Doctor, I said, it's amazing how many stupid, innocuous incidents are running through my mind at the moment, events that I had completely forgotten about.

The doctor smiled knowingly and said, The mind is unbelievable, Victor; it stores everything that ever occurs in a person's life. Absolutely everything! Sometimes we can't recall some of the events because they took place many years ago, nevertheless, they're there, and often it takes a little prodding to arouse a person’s mentally to remember them.

Making a face at the doctor, I said, And that’s where you come in.

Exactly, the doctor said jokingly, and then added seriously, Now please continue.

"I recall that one day as I was getting ready to return to class after recess in the school yard, three tough youngsters about twelve years old and big for their age, certainly much bigger than I was, stopped me from entering the school building. The biggest of the three ruffians smiled menacingly at me and said, 'What's your name, Fatso?' Doctor, I sensed immediately that I was in trouble. I had seen those boys bully other students during recess and saw the frightening results. No matter what any of those threatened students said or did the confrontation always ended with those students getting beat up. Therefore, I was scared. 'Victor,' I said to them quickly, ‘my name’s Victor.’ I tried to move away from the bullies but they stopped me.

‘Where do you think you're going, Tubby?' the leader of the trio said. 'We aren't finished with you yet.’

'Let me go,’ I said, 'I've got to get back to class, I'm late already.’ I tried again to move away from those roughnecks but with the same results, they forcibly restrained me from leaving.

'Sure, we'll let you go, Fatso,' the leader of the trio said, 'but it'll cost you. How much money you got on you?’

Out of desperation I pushed one of the boys knocking him down and I tried to run away but they caught me. While two of them held me the third boy began going through my pockets.

As those hooligans were robbing me, a tall, skinny kid, whom I didn't know, came up behind them and yelled, 'Hey, you guys, leave my friend alone!' He jumped into the melee and began struggling with my assailants trying to get them to release me. But he wasn't doing very well; he was being pummeled repeatedly as well. Fortunately, a teacher happened by and saw the fracas, and when he realized that we weren't roughhousing but fighting in earnest, he put a stop to it. When he did the three ruffians ran off.

The youngster who tried to help me was Mark O'Brian and from that day on he and I became fast friends, closer than brothers. We not only spent all of our free time together after that incident but, more often than not, Mark had dinner with me and my parents and many evenings slept over at my house.

Smiling benignly the doctor said, Is the Mark O'Brian you mentioned the same person you're associated with today?

Yes. He's my dearest friend. He's also my partner in the comedy act we have. We've been together for more than sixteen years and I still love him dearly.

Victor, the doctor said seriously, why did you use the word ‘still’ when you referred to the affection you have for your friend Mark?

I thought about it a moment and then I said simply, I don’t know, Doctor. However, as I mulled the question over in my mind it began to bother me. Anyway, Doctor, I said, one evening as I was going to my room I happened to pass the study and accidentally heard my parents talking about Mark. Before you say it, Dr. Vaughan, I knew it was wrong to eavesdrop but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to know what my parents thought of my friend and I stopped and listened.

I understand, the doctor said simply, then motioned for me to continue.

’As hard as I try,’ I heard my father say, ‘I can’t find anything redeeming about Mark. So help me, Mary, I simply don’t trust that boy! He’s got too many rough edges and I can certainly understand why!’ After a pause he added, ‘and so should you, my dear!’

’Please, Frank,’ my mother said, ‘I thought we were never to talk about that!’ A moment later she added, ‘However, I agree with you about his rough edges. There was a lot to be desired about Mark when Victor first brought him home but I feel he’s gotten a great deal better. His association with Victor has done him a world of good!’

’Their association may have helped Mark,’ my father said heatedly, ‘but it hasn’t done a damn thing for Victor! On the contrary! Regardless, I still don’t trust that boy. I can’t understand what they see in one another, it doesn’t add up.’

‘ Now you sound more like an accountant than a banker! My mother said. ‘As for not trusting Mark, I can’t understand why? What possible harm can he do? It’s not like he and Victor spend their time on some street corner smoking marijuana or planning some caper. They’re always here watching television, playing with the computer, or trying to think of humorous ways to entertain their classmates.’

‘Say what you will, Mary, I simply can’t understand what they see in one another, they don’t have a damn thing in common! And we both know why, don’t we?’

’Please, Frank, stop it!’

’Mary, I’m simply being honest. I can’t put my finger on it but somehow I feel that Mark is up to something. I believe he’s befriended Victor to take advantage of him. Evidently, the acorn hasn’t fallen far from that rotten tree!’

’Please, Frank! Not another word! You promised!’ After a long pause, my mother added, ‘I can’t understand how Mark can be taking advantage of Victor, but even if he is, so what? He’s the only friend Victor has ever had. You’ll have to admit that our son has been a great deal happier these past few months since he’s met Mark. And Victor’s happiness is all that should concern us, Lord knows he’s had little of that since the accident!’ Abruptly, I heard my mother begin to cry softly and then I heard her say, ‘Damn it, it’s not fair, Frank! Every time I think of the accident, every time I look at Victor’s face and I see what it’s done to that poor boy I can’t help but…’

’Mary, please! You’ve got to accept the fact that it was an accident.’

’Yes, a hit and run accident,’ my mother said angrily. Of course, I know it was an accident, but dear God, it’s just not fair! Poor Victor has to go through life looking so…’

When I didn’t hear anything further I peeped into the study. I saw my mother cuddled in my father’s arms weeping quietly.

Their conversation puzzled me, Doctor. I didn’t understand much of it, nevertheless, I tiptoed away. I didn’t want my parents to know that I overheard them.

Doctor, I knew from what my parents told me that I had been in an accident but I couldn’t remember any of it. I was only two years old when it happened. However, by the time I was fourteen I begged my mother to tell me about it. At first she was reluctant but eventually she relented:

The accident took place on the highway near our home in Burlington. During a terrible rainstorm, a woman driving an old beat-up jalopy, rammed the back of our car and sent us spinning across the four lanes of highway smashing headlong into the concrete meridian. The woman drove off; she was never caught.

As you can well imagine, Doctor, the accident had a harrowing affect on us, both mentally and physically. My parents suffered a multitude of badly broken bones and I, cuddled in the supposedly safe back seat, was almost killed. I ended up with a broken back and a severely busted head and face.

Doctor, I wouldn't want my worst enemy to go through what my parents and I experienced because of that accident. It was an ordeal that left us scarred for life and I don't mean that just figuratively. It must have been a nightmare for my parents for I spent more than a year in the hospital undergoing reconstructive surgeries, one more radical than the other, first on my back and then on my face. It was only when I was older that I realized the operations were not successful, at least I didn't think they were. And who was better qualified to judge? Remember the idiom, 'The operation was successful but the patient died?' Well, in my case it was, 'The operation was a failure, unfortunately, the patient lived.' I had a right to feel that way, Doctor, for the operations on my back left me stunted and the ones on my face left me looking like a caricature of an alien from outer space.

Unfortunately, my mother suffered vicariously as much over my bizarre appearance as I did and I felt sorry for her. I don't think she's ever gotten over it! Nevertheless, when it became apparent that nothing more could be done about my appearance I tried to put it behind me and attempted to go on with my life as best I could. Sometimes I would momentarily forget how I looked and I was reasonably happy, but at other times… I made a gesture of futility at the doctor. "However, I