The Duplicity Factor: An American Story

By Louis Que

A major university in the Northeast. Time: Mothers day, 1977 (The last day of school). As the story opens, we find the main character reminiscing about the school year and his ideas on being successful. He is met by his best friend and fraternity brother "Villo" who has his own ideas of success and brotherhood and is a constant throughout the story and represents the evil in our society.

After a grueling final exam, its off to the fraternity -- a major social factor in the relationship between "Villo" and Jake Carpenter (the main character). At the house, the two are consumed by drugs and alcohol and take their celebration to a local tavern.

Six days later, Jake opens his eyes only to find he has been in a coma after a terrible automobile accident. Clinging to life, the doctors decide not to operate to relieve pressure on the brain. A great sense of urgency is felt by the readers as they share the pain of the Carpenter household.

A miraculous recovery follows, but in the subsequent weeks, Jakes father wants to sue "Villo" and Jake feels torn between his best friend and his parents. The oncoming school year presents a whole new set of problems, as Jake seeks the help of a psychiatrist for his head injury. ........

Jake falls in love with a beautiful Jewish girl and the stage is set for his Master Plan. The fraternity brothers are in contempt of Jakes plan to sue "Villo" and want him out.

Jake quits school and fires his first lawyer, and is totally on his own -- searching for the right lawyer to collect his due. He finds Edgar -- a sharp trial lawyer with powerful connections in Washington. Jake seizes the opportunity and tells his new doctor an unbelievable set of stories that climaxes with the assassination attempt on the Secretary of State -- Alexander Haig.

After years of deceit and trickery the stage is set for one of the most thrilling trials in history, with a surprise ending that all will find amusing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781479786831

Book preview

The Duplicity Factor

An American Story

Louis Que

Copyright © 2013 by Louis Que.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

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Contents

Chapter 1 The Accident

Chapter 2 The Notification

Chapter 3 Same Old Story

Chapter 4 The Lawyer

Chapter 5 Back to School

Chapter 6 The Serrtett Incident & The Banister

Chapter 7 The Break-Up

Chapter 8 Quitting School

Chapter 9 Bye-Bye Shyster

BOOK II

Chapter 10 Edgar

Chapter 11 The Trek Begins

Chapter 12 The Trial—Squirm Baby Squirm

Chapter 13 The Verdict

Dedicated to

DAD

Tell me Doctor; who is Edgar?

Why he is your lawyer of course. He began writing in his notes again.

You know, there’s nothing wrong with me! There’s nothing wrong with me dammit!

They were best of friends. Fraternity brothers. What happened to them on the last day of school will have changed their lives forever. This is the story of Jake Carpenter and his effort to overcome a serious brain dysfunction that leads him down an unending road of trickery and deceit.

Follow him through the intricate world of a college freshman to the heated battleground of the courtroom. Watch as he battles with his sense of justice. Based on a true story.

—The Duplicity Factor

Mother’s Day

1977

Chapter 1

The Accident

The last day of school seemed to linger in the back of Jake Carpenter’s mind. It actually didn’t surface until he climbed the one hundred and ninth step en route to his first floor dormitory room. The year really flew by, he thought to himself as he paused to catch his breath and admire the view of the valley below. Walking up Mount Olympus was indeed tiresome, but nevertheless the agonizing task of all who lived in the twenty-five year old dormitory. The red bricks of the post-war super structure reminded him of the conformity that squeezes first-year college students into a state of disillusion—disillusion about education, disillusion about work, disillusion about sex, getting ahead—a disillusion about the real world. That’s college . . . one big deception.

A noticeable grin appeared on Jake’s face. He walked toward the main entrance, stopping only to take a look through his window as he always did. Since it was a ground floor room, he half-expected someone to be in the room waiting for him, so he kept the shades open in an effort to surprise any uninvited visitor.

Hi Jake, beamed Mrs. Lewis, the receptionist at Flint Hall. When ya leaving?

Oh, tomorrow sometime.

Well, if I don’t see you again, have a nice vacation.

Thanks. You too.

She gave him a warm smile and wished to herself that she was again eighteen years old. Maybe then, she thought, he would be attracted to her and she could have him all to herself. Never before in her sixteen years as head receptionist had she met anyone with as much charm and personality as Jake.

You know, Mrs. Lewis, you remind me a lot of my mother. Here.

He handed her a light green envelope and immediately she knew it was not a letter to be mailed. She fumbled with it as he watched her. She slid the blade of her letter opener carefully along the edge, being especially cautious not to damage its contents. She had no idea what it could be, and in her excitement, forgot that today was her day—Mother’s Day.

Oh, that’s beautiful! The red and pink card prompted her to think of Valentines Day, but the message was as touching as it was brief.

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY TO A PERSON THAT REALLY CARES.

She kept staring at the thought and didn’t even hear the phone. Finally, on the fourth ring, she slowly picked up the receiver and in a crackling voice extended her usual greeting.

Hello. Flint Hall.

Jake stood for awhile and, as he left, blew a kiss to the occupied secretary. She looked up in time to acknowledge his gesture and returned a friendly wink. He walked down the semi darkened corridor past familiar cubicles. His thoughts again drifted back over the school year. He thought about the first day of school. He remembered watching the new freshmen unloading their suitcases and stereos, and the proud parents displaying their Gucci clothes. It all seemed so long ago.

Thoughts of the entire year flashed before him as he rounded the corner of the hall. Music was pouring out of his neighbor’s room. The sound acted as a beacon cutting through the silence of the half-vacant building. It drew him closer. He pushed the door open without knocking, revealing to himself a scene all too familiar. Among the scattered dirty clothes sat a mammoth specimen of a young man. His eyes were riveted to a point that seemed miles away. In his hands a Gibson guitar uttered sounds foreign to the human ear.

Cliffy?

No answer.

Hey, Cliffy!

His stare was biting now. Jake glanced quickly around the room. Everything appeared to be as it always was—sloppy, disheveled, in a general state of disorder. He wondered what went on in this giant’s brain. Was it as disorganized as his surroundings? Feelings of friendship blended with feelings of pity in Jake’s mind. He looked at Cliffy with an understanding eye. A bottle of Jack Daniels, three-quarters full, rested on his desk next to his calculus text. Jake didn’t notice it at first, but a potent aroma filled the room. The scent triggered his memory. It was a conditioned stimulus that was acquired in his first year at school. Opium was not easy to obtain by any means, but in the case of Clifford T. Hood, it was a way of life.

He was more than generous with all his friends, and it was becoming quite clear to Jake why Cliffy was in this zombie-like state.

Hey, Jake. Wanna do up a bowl?

Jake was amazed that Cliffy could muster the energy to ask such a ridiculous question. He reached over and offered Jake his bottle of Jack.

Cliffy, do you know how long I’ve been here?

Do you think I give two fucks how long you’ve been here?

He turned up the dial on the amplifier to four and let loose with a barrage of unrelated sound that nearly sent Jake reeling off his seat.

The last thing Jake wanted to do was aggravate this friendly bear. So, Cliffy, when you takin off?

Whenever I want. Another blast of sounds came through the amp. How ’bout you, Jake?

My parents came up yesterday and took all my stuff home in my uncle’s truck, but I’m not leaving till tomorrow. I’ve got one test left, then it’s back home. You know, I’ll really miss you guys. He looked up at Cliffy. He probably didn’t hear a word I said, Jake thought to himself.

Cliffy, can I buy a gram of O to celebrate tonight? It’s for me and A.

Cliffy pulled a chunk of aluminum foil from behind his books. Taking his Red Cross knife, he chopped a large piece from the black brick and threw it to Jake. Here. Keep the money. I like Aileen. You two make a great pair.

Gee, Cliffy, that’s nice of you. You’re a good guy, no matter what people say about you. Nah just kiddin. Say, whatta you doing tonight? Wanna come with me and Villo and celebrate?

Celebrate! Ha! You make me laugh. He raised the bottle to his lips, took another swig and continued his ungodly melody.

Standing in the doorway, Jake took a final look at Cliffy.

He seemed so peaceful sitting there, a little bleary-eyed, with his guitar between his legs.

Jake opened the door slowly, and as he shut it heard Cliffy laughing. He reached into his new Levi’s and pulled out his room key. His room seemed naked since he’d packed up all his belongings. He walked over to his bed, set the alarm for six o’clock and fell over into a lazy sleep.

It was nearly two o’clock. The poor excuse for music next door had kept him from dozing off completely, so he focused in on Cliffy’s laughter. It was beginning to sound like thunder. His thoughts jumped from the laughter, to his exam, to celebrating the school year later that night. The confusion in his thinking was abruptly halted by the sound of crashing glass. The music stopped but the laughter continued. Jake lowered his eyes in disgust for he knew what caused the crash. It wasn’t the first time Cliffy Hood had thrown something through his window. Jake closed his eyes and waited for his alarm clock.

The four hours between the time he fell asleep and the instant the alarm went off passed quickly. As if on cue, there was a knocking at the door.

Who is it?

It’s me. Villo.

Come on in. Jake rubbed the sleep from his eyes . . . That’s funny how you knocked just as my alarm went off.

Yeah. Hey listen Jake, hurry up and get dressed. You wanna miss the test?

You study? asked Jake pulling on a fresh sweater.

Not really. You?

Nah. But I read the chapter summaries a couple of times.

Come on, let’s go eat. Then we’ll go to the test.

They left the room, and briskly walked through the dorm to the adjoining dining hall. An underground tunnel connected the two.

Hey, Villo, where’s the exam anyway?

Grant Hall, seven thirty.

Where we gonna go tonight?

You’ll see.

The auditorium was almost filled when they arrived. They were lucky to find two seats together. Jake walked in first and spotted two empty seats. Over there, he pointed. Biology was supposedly Jake’s best subject, and Villo was later to become a Bio major. Earlier in the year they hacked apart a fetal pig as part of an experiment for class. Since Villo’s father was a surgeon, he had a natural talent for probing the insides of an animal. Testing time represented the climax of the semester, and as they sat down, a feeling of anticipation mixed with fear could be felt. The pressure of exam week was well publicized, to say the least, but Jake felt nothing. He would just as soon sit and fantasize about the pretty girls in his classes.

The proctor began passing out the computerized answer sheets.

"You know, Bill, I kinda wish I’d studied for this test.

After all, it is the final."

Villo looked at him sternly and said, Hey listen Jake . . . you got two C’s on the other tests, right?

Yeah. So?

So, no matter what you get on this test you’ll get a C for the course, right?

He sounded reassuring, but Jake knew Villo had his share of problems when it came to academics. Besides, there were much more important things than biology. There were girls, drugs, girls that love drugs, and drugs that make you love girls, and of course, the fraternity. Of the three favorite pastimes of Jake Carpenter, girls had held the number one position ever since he arrived at Syracuse University. The fraternity and drugs were interchangeable social events that Jake had introduced to Villo. Jake looked over at Villo busily penciling in his exam grid.

Although they had become very close in their first year at college, Jake could not help but think of the time they opposed each other on the basketball court in sixth grade.

The hum of the nervous students had died down. The silence dictated total concentration on the material upon the desk. Jake filled in his grid and waited for the exam. When the proctor reached his aisle, he motioned for them to move. Villo got up and moved two seats over. Heaven forbid they accuse Villo of cheating! After all, his grade point average was a whole 1.2!

Jake opened his exam and pondered the first question carefully. He remembered one of his high school teachers telling him that the first question was always the key. Get past that and the rest of the test was a breeze! Hell with the first question, he thought, it was the other sixty-four questions that bothered him. He glanced around the room, as if he needed help. Of the first twenty-one questions, he guessed at one-third of them.

Psst . . . Villo. Twenty-three! He looked over at Villo, who didn’t acknowledge Jake’s desperate whisper.

Villo! Twenty-three, he motioned with his fingers. Jake could not believe that Villo would not answer.

Out of the corner of Villo’s mouth came what sounded like the cry of a wounded animal. C-eeee.

What? About twenty people turned around in their section.

Jake had said it loud enough to startle everyone in the auditorium.

A surge of embarrassment rushed through him, and he tried to act inconspicuous.

You cock-sucker Villo, he thought to himself as he worked up the nerve to look up from his paper.

C-eeee C-eeee, came the sounds from Villo’s lips.

Jake marked down the third answer, but he wasn’t so sure about Villo anymore. He knew Villo hated to cheat, but cheating was not all wrong; it was a way of surviving. After all, everyone cheated in one way or another. What do you call choosing a paper from the files at the fraternity house? For twenty minutes they worked at the test.

Villo called over to Jake, What’s fifty-three?

A, Jake whispered, pretending to really know the answer.

The correct answer was actually D, but Jake had no intention of helping Villo. I’ll fix your ass, he thought.

So it went on—asking help, not really knowing if the answers were correct and not really caring either. What are friends for? Jake asked for six answers, Villo for four. Every answer Jake gave was the wrong one, and he knew it. Villo finished the test first. He pretended not to be done but waited for Jake. When both of them stood up and walked down the aisle together, the proctor had a suspicious look in his four eyes.

You fellas done, huh? asked the balding mentor.

That’s right fella. Done for the year, done forever! smiled Jake.

A disgusted look came over the proctor’s face.

See ya. Jake laughed as he handed in their final bit of paperwork for the year. Visions of the upcoming celebration danced through Jake’s head.

All right, Villo, where are we going tonight? He sounded like a young child who expected a reward for good behavior.

You’ll see.

The fact that Villo had a car was an unexpected convenience for Jake that year. Several times during the school year he let Jake take his car to pay back debts. That’s how Villo paid back most of his debts. He would let the person take his car for a weekend. It was a very efficient system for both parties. He would buy an ounce of dope and lend his car out for the week.

You pay for the