by James Hold
Let It All Hang Out
By James Hold
Copyright 2015 James Roy Hold
LET IT ALL HANG OUT
Or, Erik Von Fritz and the Case of the Dickless Doppelganger
"For sure ain't no doubt"
One of the more curious cases in which I, as an investigator of paranormal phenomena, played a part was that of City Council member Richard (Dick) Lessman. As most of you know, Councilman Lessman was arrested on vice and morals charges brought forth by the District Attorney. A great deal of media interest was generated by the case, so it naturally caught my attention. Seemingly the DA's office had amassed substantial evidence—photographs, video tapes, and wiretapped recordings—implicating the councilmember in many vile and despicable acts. Consorting with known gangsters, adulterous affairs with married women, taking bribes from shady lobbyists, and cavorting with prostitutes—that sort of thing. Throughout it all, the councilman insisted he was innocent, saying he had done no wrong and that it had to be someone else, a look-alike perhaps, who appeared in all those pictures and whose voice had been caught on tape.
It was this last assertion that garnered my interest. After all, we all know how, for the most part, politicians are decent and dedicated public servants and the idea of scandal or wrongdoing is anathema to them. Therefore, my only logical conclusion as a trained investigator of the abnormal was that this had to be the work of a doppelganger.
Now as any schoolchild knows, a doppelganger is a phantasm—that is to say, a spiritual replication of a living person, which goes about performing malignant deeds. It is actually a common occurrence, as many a man has been spotted in one place doing some questionable act or another when he was supposed to be in a different place altogether. Hence, I sought an audience with Councilman Lessman.
"You're joking, right?" he said, regarding me with suspicion.
"No sir," I shook my head emphatically. "When it comes to the reputation of an innocent man, I never joke." Here I presented him my card:
Erik Von Fritz
Extraterrestriologist and Paranormal Investigator
Publisher of The Iron Claw of Destiny Newsletter
"Oh good grief," he began, "you're that crazy kraut who— Uh, I mean, you're that distinguished savant who seeks to uncover the truth in all aspects of daily existence."
It was not often that I was called a savant—usually there was another word in front of it—and, taking back my card—because I had but a limited supply—I bowed graciously and replied, "At your service." Then with Mr Lessman's permission, I began my investigation into his case, although why he would use the term "muddy up the waters" when my purpose was to seek out the truth was beyond me.
There was however, one final thing to be settled.
"If you were thinking I was going to pay you—" Lessman started.
"Oh, no-no-no," I assured him. "My remuneration comes from the knowledge that I have advanced mankind's understanding of the universe."
"Then what is it?" Lessman wanted to know.
"Simply that I must first convince myself as to your actual innocence in this case."
"Okay." Lessman sighed and dug out his wallet. "How much is it going to take?"
Again, he misunderstood my intent. "I merely wanted to ask, while we have images of you on video and voices of you on tape, if there are any actual eye witnesses who can place you at the scene of these events?"
"Oh, that." Lessman looked relieved. "No, I made sure to pay off—" He stopped abruptly and reddened. "I mean, I uh…"
"That's all right," I told him. "I believe you."
"You do?" He looked at me with a hint of disbelief.
I nodded. "A man of your high moral character turns red with embarrassment at the very thought of bribery, adultery, and prostitution; whereas the man in those photographs had a healthy glowing complexion. Obviously, it could not have been you, but your evil doppelganger. And thus I am convinced of your innocence."
The look on Lessman's face was indecipherable, a complex mixture of incredulity and amazement, and for a moment it seemed as though he was about to burst out laughing. The stress of his predicament was clearly weighing on him. However, he managed to gain control of himself. "Okay, Mr Fritz," he said, showing me to the door. "You do your best, okay?"
