Scott Sherman - First You Fall

Midday appointments usual y mean a married client, and this one was no exception. Dr. Richard Applebaum was one of the Upper East Side’s most prestigious gynecologists. He and his beautiful wife appeared regularly on the pages of the society columns.

On the third Thursday of every month, Richard closed his office at noon to catch up on paperwork.

At two, I’d arrive to put his stirrups to a few unintended uses. I don’t know how long he lasted in bed with his lovely wife, but I was usual y out the door by 2:20.

“You’re such a good boy,” Richard said, as I laid back on his examining table, where, only moments earlier, he’d showered me with a voluminous, if typical y premature, ejaculation. “Is there anything you need written?”

Dr. Dick was my contact for pharmaceutical assistance. He was always wil ing to write me a prescription for whatever I wanted. And although I never took recreational drugs (who knows what’s in that Ecstasy you buy on the dance floor?), I wasn’t above the occasional Xanax, Ambien, or Viagra.

“Nothing, thanks, Dr. Applebaum.” I wiped something off my chin. Yuck. “That was quite a load you shot there.”

“Sorry about that,” the doctor chuckled. “Here.” He reached up to my hair. “You got some there, too.”

“Jesus, what are you eating?”

“Good nutrition, son, exercise, and plenty of rest.

Keeps a man vital, you know?”

And quick, too, I thought. Although I had to say that for a man in his late fifties, he did look pretty good.

“Listen,” he said, handing me towel. “I was sorry to hear about your friend Al en Harrington.”

“You knew Al en?”

“Oh yes, we traveled in some of the same circles, you know.” I wasn’t sure if he meant high society or gay-older-man circles, but I nodded.

“Al en knew of my… extracurricular interests, and he once mentioned you.”

“A recommendation?” I asked.

“Yes, although he made it clear that he hadn’t, shal we say, sampled the goods.”

Lovely.

“Yes, Al en’s tastes ran towards the more beastly, you know. Although what he saw in al those vapid muscle boys, I can’t imagine. Not when he could have had a sweet kid like you.”

“Aw shucks.” I shrugged.

“Imagine his surprise when I told him that I had already made your acquaintance. I remember he said ‘Ah, Richard, you always did have a way of finding the better things in life, didn’t you?’”

I smiled.

“He was a very good man, and I know you two remained friends. I’m sure you’l miss him.”

“Listen,” I said, “do you believe he would have kil ed himself?”

“Suicide?” Dr. Dick asked. “Of course not. Who’s saying that?”

“The police.”

“Why, that’s absurd. Al en Harrington was one of the strongest, bravest men I knew.” Dr. Dick glanced over at the wal, where a portrait of him and the woman he was married to hung in a simple gold frame.

A reminder of the double life his friend had left behind.

His face clouded over with regret.

“Yes,” Dr. Dick said. “He was one of the bravest men I knew.”

Sitting in a taxi on my way back to my apartment, I felt a little sad for Dr. Dick. As accomplished as he was professional y, who knows if he was happy?

I, however, was thril ed with the hundred-dol ar tip in my pocket, and the confirmation that yet another person thought Al en incapable of suicide.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about Al en pimping me out, but I suppose that was just his way of looking out for me. After al, if I were a plumber, I wouldn’t object to a referral. So why should I mind Al en recommending my sexual services?

Meanwhile, I was kind of horny. I hadn’t cum in my eleven minutes of sex with the good doctor, but the blowjob he was giving me at the moment of his sudden climax had me boned up pretty good. And although he had offered to “bring me to completion,” I declined his kindness.

So now what?

I checked out my cab driver in the rear viewer, but he was too freaky looking to fantasize about.

My iPhone vibrated in my pocket. As nice as it felt, I decided to answer it.

“Hey, it’s Tony. Can you drop by my precinct later?”

Best offer I had al day.

“How about now? I’m in a cab.”

“Great,” Tony said. “Just tel ‘em you’re here to see me.”

Sure enough, the desk clerk cal ed Tony, who came out to join me. I wasn’t expecting a hug in front of his fel ow officers, and I didn’t get one. “Come this way,” Tony said, stiffly.

Tony looked great in his usual outfit of dark blue dress slacks, white shirt, and blue striped tie. He held a manila envelope in his hand.

He led me to a smal room with a rectangular table and four chairs. He nodded towards the mirror that lined the far wal. “Two way glass,” he cautioned me.

Translation: Don’t try any funny stuff.

“What’s up?” I asked him.

“Take a look.” Tony handed me the folder.

A memo to his chief summarizing Tony’s findings on Al en’s case. The coroner’s report found the cause of death to be-no surprise-the fal from his window. He found no other bruises or injuries inconsistent with the fal, although he did note that the back of the head and several other parts of the body were crushed in a way that made a complete analysis impossible.

There was also no sign of forced entry to Al en’s apartment and the doorman hadn’t announced any visitors.

“Satisfied?” he smirked.

“Why are you showing me this?”

“To keep you out of trouble. Also, to let you know I was only kidding when I said that you were a suspect.” He smiled.

“I assumed you were.”

“Don’t be so sure. After al, you were mentioned in the wil. In any case, that’s always the first question we ask. ‘Who benefits?’”

“I didn’t even know I was in the wil,” I told him. “Let alone for how much.”

“Fifty-seven thousand, two hundred and seven dol ars,” Tony said. “And seven cents. At least that’s what the account was worth yesterday.”

My mouth dropped open.

“Surprised?” Tony asked, stil grinning.

“How do you know?” I asked him.

“We’re the police,” Tony said. “We know these things. I also know that the amount he left each of his kids was just about double that. Not exactly chump change, but, given what his boys earn, hardly an inducement to murder.”

I thought for a moment.

“They hated him,” I said, half to myself.

“A lot of people hate their parents,” Tony said.

“But they don’t kil them.”

“No, they don’t.” So, the Harrington kids had no financial incentive to see their father dead. I had to admit that Tony was making sense.

“Kevin,” Tony looked at me gently. He put his hand on the table as if he were going to take mine. Then he glanced at the mirror and pul ed it back. “I think you’re wasting your time. I think you’re mourning Al en and you’re looking for someone to blame. I think you might just have to accept that Al en kil ed himself.”

Suddenly, I felt a lot less sure of things. “I need a minute,” I said. My thoughts were coming fast and furious. Had I taken my medicine today?

I lowered my head and looked up at him. Blinked back tears.

“Kevin,” Tony said. He got up from his seat and came behind me. He put his hands on my shoulders.

“Kevin.”

I wanted to be strong, but the possibility that Tony was right devastated me. He was the professional here. What was I even doing doubting him?

“I just…” I began, but there was a lump in my throat that blocked my words. I rubbed my eyes. “I’m just so sad,” I admitted. “I real y loved him, you know?”