for another five pennies after she took off her shorts."
"That's cheap enough, God knows."
"She said some old man in the park--Julia Tuttle Park--was giving her pennies for doing this, and I guess she thought that because I was old I'd do the same thing."
"But you didn't start anything?"
"No, I was asleep, I told you. Then Maya, that's my wife, came into the house while I was trying to catch Pammi and put her shorts back on. She ran down the block and told Mrs. Sneider. She called her husband at the gas station, and he came over and hit me in the mouth. Nobody would listen to me. I don't know what Pammi told her mother."
"Pammi? Short for Pamela?"
"No, just Pammi, with an i at the end and no e."
"Did you make your phone call? You're entitled to a phone call, you know."
"The deputy said I could make a call, but the only one I could think of to call was Maya, and my wife knows I'm in here already." Stanley began to cry.
Troy got to his feet and told Stanley to sit down on the bunk. He pulled Stanley's shirttail out of his pants and wiped the old man's face. "Crying ain't gonna help you none, old-timer. What you need's a good jailhouse lawyer. You listen to me, and I'll help you. Then you can do something for me. Okay?"
"It's all a big mistake," Stanley said. "I'd never do nothing to that little girl in a million years. I ain't even had a hard-on for more'n three years now. I'm seventy-one years old and retired."
"I believe you, Pop. Just listen a minute. Here's what'll happen to you. This father, Mr. Sneider--"
"He's a retired Army master sergeant, but he leases a Union station now."
"Okay, Sergeant Sneider. What he'll do is file a complaint, and then they'll send you out of here for a psychiatric evaluation. That'll mean three or four days in a locked ward at the hospital. The doctor'll listen to your story, just like I did. Psychiatrists don't say much, they mostly listen, and I have a hunch he'll tell the state attorney to let you go. Meanwhile, this sergeant'll be thinking things over, and he'll realize if this case goes to trial his little girl will have to take the stand. After he and his wife talk about it, they'll decide they don't want to put the kid through the trauma of a courtroom appearance. So whether you're guilty or not, this case won't go to trial. But how you handle yourself when you talk to the psychiatrist is very important. He'll ask some very personal questions. How often do you masturbate?"
Stanley shook his head. "I don't do nothing like that."
"That's the wrong answer, Pop. Tell him once or twice a week. If you tell him you don't do it at all, he'll put it down on his report that you're evasive. And in shrink jargon, 'evasive' means lying. How often do you have relations with your wife?"
"None at all. Not since we came down to Florida, and that's been six years now. I still wanted to at first, but Maya said she wanted to retire, too, just like me, so we just quit doing it. I wasn't all that keen myself, to tell you the truth."
"For Christ's sake, Pop, don't tell the analyst that. Tell him once a week, at least. Otherwise, he'll think you're abnormal and you need little girls for an outlet."
"I don't need any little girls! I never touched Pammi. I told you that already."
"I -know- that, but you've got to tell a shrink what they want to hear. You'll have to persuade him that you have a normal, regular sex life."
"Maya'll tell him different."
"He won't talk to her. She's not accused of anything; you are. Apparently she believes what she thought she saw, so she'll be on Sneider's side. You understand what I'm talking about?"
"I think so. But it seems to me that Pammi, if she tells the truth, could clear all this up in a minute."
"Of course she could. But she'll want to cover her own little ass. Little girls lie, big girls lie, and old women like your wife lie, too. Come to think of it, all women
"That's cheap enough, God knows."
"She said some old man in the park--Julia Tuttle Park--was giving her pennies for doing this, and I guess she thought that because I was old I'd do the same thing."
"But you didn't start anything?"
"No, I was asleep, I told you. Then Maya, that's my wife, came into the house while I was trying to catch Pammi and put her shorts back on. She ran down the block and told Mrs. Sneider. She called her husband at the gas station, and he came over and hit me in the mouth. Nobody would listen to me. I don't know what Pammi told her mother."
"Pammi? Short for Pamela?"
"No, just Pammi, with an i at the end and no e."
"Did you make your phone call? You're entitled to a phone call, you know."
"The deputy said I could make a call, but the only one I could think of to call was Maya, and my wife knows I'm in here already." Stanley began to cry.
Troy got to his feet and told Stanley to sit down on the bunk. He pulled Stanley's shirttail out of his pants and wiped the old man's face. "Crying ain't gonna help you none, old-timer. What you need's a good jailhouse lawyer. You listen to me, and I'll help you. Then you can do something for me. Okay?"
"It's all a big mistake," Stanley said. "I'd never do nothing to that little girl in a million years. I ain't even had a hard-on for more'n three years now. I'm seventy-one years old and retired."
"I believe you, Pop. Just listen a minute. Here's what'll happen to you. This father, Mr. Sneider--"
"He's a retired Army master sergeant, but he leases a Union station now."
"Okay, Sergeant Sneider. What he'll do is file a complaint, and then they'll send you out of here for a psychiatric evaluation. That'll mean three or four days in a locked ward at the hospital. The doctor'll listen to your story, just like I did. Psychiatrists don't say much, they mostly listen, and I have a hunch he'll tell the state attorney to let you go. Meanwhile, this sergeant'll be thinking things over, and he'll realize if this case goes to trial his little girl will have to take the stand. After he and his wife talk about it, they'll decide they don't want to put the kid through the trauma of a courtroom appearance. So whether you're guilty or not, this case won't go to trial. But how you handle yourself when you talk to the psychiatrist is very important. He'll ask some very personal questions. How often do you masturbate?"
Stanley shook his head. "I don't do nothing like that."
"That's the wrong answer, Pop. Tell him once or twice a week. If you tell him you don't do it at all, he'll put it down on his report that you're evasive. And in shrink jargon, 'evasive' means lying. How often do you have relations with your wife?"
"None at all. Not since we came down to Florida, and that's been six years now. I still wanted to at first, but Maya said she wanted to retire, too, just like me, so we just quit doing it. I wasn't all that keen myself, to tell you the truth."
"For Christ's sake, Pop, don't tell the analyst that. Tell him once a week, at least. Otherwise, he'll think you're abnormal and you need little girls for an outlet."
"I don't need any little girls! I never touched Pammi. I told you that already."
"I -know- that, but you've got to tell a shrink what they want to hear. You'll have to persuade him that you have a normal, regular sex life."
"Maya'll tell him different."
"He won't talk to her. She's not accused of anything; you are. Apparently she believes what she thought she saw, so she'll be on Sneider's side. You understand what I'm talking about?"
"I think so. But it seems to me that Pammi, if she tells the truth, could clear all this up in a minute."
"Of course she could. But she'll want to cover her own little ass. Little girls lie, big girls lie, and old women like your wife lie, too. Come to think of it, all women
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