The Caretaker of Lorne Field

by Dave Zeltserman

  Hank Thompson hung up.

  Durkin took a step towards the basement steps and then wanted to kick himself for not bringing the flashlight in with him. He thought briefly about going back outside for it, but the thought of crawling out and then back in again through the window changed his mind. He left the basement door wide open hoping that enough light would filter down so he could see, then headed down the steps.

  The light from upstairs didn’t help much. By the time he got a few feet into the basement it was too dark to see anything. When he reached the back wall he tried to find the loose stones by memory, but pulled on half a dozen wrong stones before he found the ones that slid out. He could feel the book and contract in their hiding place. He took both of them out and headed back upstairs.

  Durkin did a quick walk through the house to make sure nothing else was left behind. After satisfying himself, he went back to the kitchen, turned off the lights, and maneuvered himself so he was kneeling on the countertop and could lower himself out the window. Facing the kitchen, he put one foot out through the window, felt for the stack of boxes outside and steadied himself before sticking his other foot out.

  “You’re trespassing, Jack. I could arrest you for that.”

  Wolcott’s voice startled him and he lost his balance and did an unintentional stutter-step off the box. He landed awkwardly, rolling over his left ankle and dropping the contract and Book of Aukowies. Wincing, he grabbed his injured ankle. He gritted his teeth and told the sheriff he had to go back into the house to get his belongings.

  “We packed everything of yours up,” Wolcott said.

  “You left my contract and book in the basement,” Durkin forced out through a clenched jaw. With horror, he saw that the binding for the Book of Aukowies had split open when it hit the ground and its pages were scattered around him. He fought back a sob. Hell if he’d let this son of a bitch see him cry. He gathered up the pages and placed them back in the book.

  “You had no right doing what you did,” he said. “No right at all.”

  “I had every right, Jack. I only did what the town council ordered me to do.”

  “You had no right. Dumping everything I own on my front yard. Not even giving me a day’s notice.”

  “Jack, a notice was placed in your mailbox over a week ago. It’s not my fault you’re too busy saving the world each day to read your mail.”

  Durkin looked away from his injured ankle and into the placid face of the County Sheriff, who was staring him down as if he were nothing more than the town drunk. Durkin had never hated anyone more. He was overwhelmed with the thought of letting the Aukowies develop so that Wolcott and his family could experience their full horror.

  “You’re enjoying this,” he said.

  “No, I’m not, Jack. While I’m happy we’re no longer wasting taxpayer’s money on this nonsense, I’ve got to be honest and tell you that I find your situation sad. But, Jack, you’ve got no one to blame for this but yourself. You could’ve kept this gravy train going for years.”

  “Gravy train?” A sour laugh escaped from his lips. “Eight thousand dollars a year for breaking my back every day from spring thaw to first frost is a gravy train, huh?”

  “Eight thousand dollars plus a free house. You conveniently left that out, Jack. And besides, eight thousand dollars for doing absolutely nothing is a lot of money. If you wanted to play the part in this charade and break your back, that was your business. And you know, Jack, if you just quietly did your weeding, the town would’ve kept this charade going. But you couldn’t do that. You had to cut your son’s thumb off, and God knows what you did to your wife. We had one lone hold-out in the council, but the final straw was seeing your wife walk out on you with her hand in a cast. Of course, your own words from the court transcript didn’t help you.”

  Confusion mixed with the hatred in Durkin’s stare.

  “Don’t you remember, Jack? What you said in court a couple of weeks ago? Where you admitted you’re simply pulling out weeds everyday and that the town were saps for paying you to do that? I got a copy of that for the town council. It helped them make up their minds.”

  Durkin pushed himself to his feet, hobbling gingerly on his injured ankle. His hands clenched to fists at his side. Wolcott noticed his hands and the slight smile on his lips tightened.

  “You knew I was saying that only for the benefit of the judge.”

  “You were sworn to the truth, Jack. Under threat of perjury.”

  “What if the truth is that there are creatures growing in that field? What then?”

  “It’s not the truth, Jack. If you really think that, then it’s nothing more than a psychotic delusion on your part.”

  “What if it ain’t? What if everything I’ve been saying is the truth?”

  Wolcott took a step back, his hand resting on his service revolver. “A lot of what-ifs. What if Santa Claus were real?”

  “If he was, the world wouldn’t come to an end ’cause of it.”

  The sound of tires on the dirt road out front stopped them. A car door opened and shut, followed by Hank Thompson’s voice bellowing about what an outrage this was.

  “We’re back here, Hank,” Wolcott called out.

  Hank Thompson was seething as he joined them. He pointed a long quivering finger at the sheriff. “You had no right doing this,” he accused, his voice loud and booming.

  “Calm down, Hank. I had every right. Besides, I was only following the directives of the town council.”

  “To sneak into my client’s house and dump all of his belongings out in the street?”

  “They were put out on his front yard.”

  “You know damn well what I meant. And don’t you dare smirk at me!”

  Wolcott held out a hand to stop the attorney.

  “Calm down,” he ordered. “I wasn’t smirking at you. And as I was telling your client, a notice was sent over a week ago. There’s nothing I can do if he chose to ignore it.”

  Hank’s eyes slid momentarily towards Durkin, then back on Wolcott with renewed intensity. “I’ll calm down when I damn well want to. What if it was raining?”

  “It’s not.”

  “But if it was you would’ve still dumped everything he owned on the front yard?”

  “Look, Hank—”

  “This was wrong. Legally and morally you had an obligation to make sure my client was aware of the seizure notice and eviction plans.”

  “Which is exactly what I did!”

  “By serendipitously placing a notice in the mail so it can be lost and never delivered?”

  “By hand delivering it myself. I put it in your client’s mailbox a week ago!”

  “You had to sneak here and hide it in his mailbox? You didn’t have the common decency to deliver it by hand?”

  Wolcott shook his head. “I did what I was required to.”

  “Hank,” Jack said, interrupting his attorney in the middle of shaking his finger again. “I found my wallet packed away in one of the boxes. It was empty. The two hundred dollars you gave me was taken from it.”

  The attorney shot a withering look at Wolcott.

  “Hank, you know as well as I do that I only supervise packing up the house. Besides, it’s your client’s responsibility to pay attention to the seizure notice and make sure the house is vacated. If he fails to do so, then any lost property is his fault.”

  “I demand that you investigate this!”

  “Come on, Hank—”

  “You failed to properly notify my client, and assuming you didn’t take the money yourself, two hundred dollars was stolen out from under your nose—”

  “Be careful what you’re saying, Hank.”

  “Not only that,” Durkin interjected, his voice not much more than a croak, “they packed up the food from the refrigerator and left it out in the sun. Half of it’s spoiled.”

  “Alright, alright,” Wolcott said, flashing Durkin a look before staring angrily at the older attorney. “I’ll look into th
is. But you know, Hank, your client broke a window and trespassed into the house. I could arrest him right now.”

  “He was retrieving personal property that you didn’t bother to pack up.”

  “I made sure that nothing was left behind!”

  “He had several items of great sentimental value that were hidden in the basement. If you’d like, I’m sure Jack will show you where they were.”

  Wolcott looked slowly from Hank to Jack Durkin. “No, that won’t be necessary,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. Your client criminally trespassed, regardless of what might’ve been left in the house.” He removed a pair of handcuffs from his belt and stepped forward. “I am placing him under arrest. You can accompany us down to the station house if you’d like.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” Hank Thompson said, his voice shaking with indignation. “If you do this I will sue you for abuse of power. Trust me, Sheriff, making your life hell will be my life’s work. Maybe at the end of the day, you’ll also get to find out what it’s like to have your home seized.”

  Wolcott hesitated, then reluctantly slipped the handcuffs back on his belt. “I want your client off this property now,” he said. “And all his junk too. Anything still here by tomorrow morning will be carted off to the town dump.”

  Hank sniffed dismissively. “Jack will be given a reasonable amount of time to remove his property. If you touch any of it he will sue you. Make no mistake about that, Dan. Now why don’t you get the hell away from here and let me talk to my client in private.”

  Wolcott nodded. “Just make sure your client doesn’t enter the house again.”

  “What about the garage?” Durkin asked.

  “What?”

  “My pa built that garage.”

  Wolcott stared at Durkin as if he sprouted horns.

  “You’ll have to bring that up with the town council,” he said, his voice strained. “Maybe they’ll let you move it to somewhere else. That’s up to them. But I’m coming back here at midnight and if you’re camped out anywhere on this property, I’m arresting you.”

  “Dan, let me ask you something,” Hank said, his tone softer and more congenial. “You used to be a good kid, and were for the most part a nice guy as sheriff. When did you become such an asshole?”

  Wolcott flinched as if he’d been slapped. “I’m only doing my job, Hank.”

  “A little too zealously, if you ask me. What do you have against Jack?”

  “Other than cutting off his son’s thumb? How about the way he’s treated his wife.” Wolcott pushed his hand over his scalp. “Mrs. Durkin looks twenty years older than a woman her age has any right to look. And now I see her walking around town with a cast on her hand. How’d that happen, Hank? I’ll give your client until six tomorrow night to remove his property. Just make sure he does.”

  Wolcott nodded dully at them as he walked away. Hank Thompson stood stone-faced watching him. After the sheriff was out of sight, he sighed and turned to Durkin.

  “Why the hell is Dan so fixated with Lydia?” he asked.

  “She used to be babysit him.”

  “It looks like he’s still carrying an adolescent crush on your wife. If I remember right, Lydia used to be quite pretty when she was younger. Jack, you didn’t ever abuse her, did you?” Hank asked, his eyebrows arching slightly.

  “Never once laid a hand on her. And as far as yelling goes, she always gave worse than she got.”

  Hank chuckled sympathetically. “Pretty much how I’d imagine it with her. I don’t want to rub salt in the wound, Jack, but I doubt our good sheriff would be so gung-ho right now carrying out this eviction if Lydia hadn’t walked out on you. Any chance of you two reconciling?”

  Durkin frowned as he considered it. He stumbled, and when he tried to regain his footing, ended up putting weight on his injured ankle. Wincing, he sat down quickly.

  “Are you okay, Jack?”

  “I hurt my ankle coming out of the window. I hope it ain’t broke.”

  “Jesus.”

  “I think I’ll be okay. I just need to sit here for now. About what you asked, unless Lester changes his story she ain’t moving back with me.”

  Hank lowered himself to the ground and joined Durkin.

  “What a mess,” he said.

  “Yep.”

  “It explains why Child Services has been putting me off. Must be someone on the town council having them do that. They probably didn’t want to risk Lester recanting his statement until after your eviction. Well, Jack, I’m just going to have to push harder for that deposition.”

  Durkin didn’t say anything. He was too choked up at that moment to say anything. He dusted dirt off the Caretakers contract and handed it to Hank.

  “This is the contract?” Hank asked. The attorney held it at arm’s length to take a look at it but it was too dark to read it.

  Durkin nodded.

  “I’ll go over this carefully tonight,” Hank said. “With your family occupying this house for several hundred years this contract could amount to a land grant. It amazes me they thought they could get away with this. But then again, with some of the newer town residents on the council they probably didn’t believe that this contract even existed. Don’t worry, Jack, I’m going to get you back in that house.”

  Durkin nodded dully as he examined the Book of Aukowies. Tears welled in his eyes.

  Hank put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s the book?” he asked.

  “Yep. It’s been in my family over three hundred years. The binding split open when I fell.”

  Hank took the book from Durkin and looked through the pages. In the dusk he could still make out the drawings of the Aukowies.

  “This is what they look like fully grown?”

  “Yep.”

  Hank’s face grew even more gaunt as he stared at the pictures. He closed the book.

  “Jack, the binding can be replaced. Leave the book with me and I’ll get it fixed.”

  “Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

  “Least I can do, Jack. I’ll get it done right away.”

  The attorney picked himself off the ground and gave Durkin a hand to help him to his feet. He looked at Durkin with concern.

  “I should take you to the emergency room,” he said.

  “Nope. It’s probably just a sprain. Anyway, I got too much to do.”

  The two men started towards the front of the house, Durkin in a badly hobbled gait and Hank walking slowly to keep pace with him. The concern on the attorney’s face deepened as he watched the way Durkin moved.

  “You need to get that ankle looked at.”

  “Not tonight,” Durkin grunted.

  Hank offered to put Durkin up at his home when they reached his car. “You can stay with me until we get this mess resolved, or if you’d like, tomorrow I can find you an apartment.”

  “How far away is your new home?”

  “It’s only the next town over. I’d say no more than fifteen miles from here.”

  “I can’t do that.” Durkin shook his head, his jaw locked in a determined scowl. “I need to stay close to the field.”

  “Jack, I can drive you back here anytime you’d like.”

  “Nope. Wouldn’t want to put you out that way. Besides, I got other plans.”

  “Jack, really, it’s no bother…” Hank Thompson stopped as he stepped back on his heels. He froze for a moment, then tapped his chest. “Indigestion,” he told Durkin. “I shouldn’t have had that extra helping of stuffed cabbage.” He smiled weakly as he took out his wallet and peered inside it. He counted what he had and handed the money to Durkin.

  “Forty-three dollars,” Hank said. “All I have on me. If I knew those bastards lifted the two hundred dollars from you, I would’ve stopped off at an ATM before coming here. You’re sure you’re going to be okay?”

  Durkin nodded without much conviction.

  “Call me tomorrow,” Hank said. “I’m going to fix this, Jack, I promise. I’ll be filing an emergency injunct
ion tomorrow morning to get you reinstated as Caretaker and back in your house. Don’t worry about a thing, Jack, we’ve got a valid contract on our side.” The attorney sighed as he gazed at the boxes and furniture scattered across the front yard. “It might take a few days to get all this worked out, so I’ll arrange to have your belongings put in storage. I don’t want to give our good sheriff an excuse to throw your property away.”

  “I appreciate all this, Hank.”

  The attorney fixed Durkin a careful look. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked.

  “Yep. I’ll be fine.”

  The attorney took Durkin’s hand. His face grew a shade grayer as he stared more intently at Durkin. “You’re sure you’re going to be able to weed that field tomorrow?”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Okay, Jack.” Hank lowered himself into his Cadillac. “If you need anything you call me, understand?”

  The attorney showed a comforting smile as he held up the Book of Aukowies and promised Durkin he’d get it repaired. As he pulled away, he honked his horn and waved out the window. Durkin watched until the car disappeared around the bend. Then he found his flashlight and hobbled painfully to where he’d left Lester’s mountain bike.

  Chapter 9

  In retrospect, Jack Durkin could’ve planned better. Not that he had much choice in the matter. The idea of staying with Hank Thompson gave him the willies. While he liked Hank and felt comfortable around him, Hank’s wife was another matter. Jeanette Thompson was a tall willowy woman, about the same height as her husband and with the same thick cigar-ash colored hair. Originally from Manhattan, she had gone to the same ivy league college as Hank, and the few times she met Durkin, she had looked at him as if he was nothing but a specimen in a jar. Even more importantly, he had spent every night of his life at the Caretaker’s cabin, and the thought of being an overnight guest in anyone else’s house was strongly distasteful to him. But it was more than that. He couldn’t be dependent on anyone to get him to Lorne Field in the morning. Still, after spending three hours in the dark, first riding Lester’s mountain bike back to Lorne Field and then pushing a wheelbarrow from the shed to the Caretaker’s cabin, hobbling every step of the way on an injured ankle, he wished he had come up with a different plan. He also wished he had found the aspirin before he left.