by Terri Thayer
They were deep in the woods now. The canopy of trees met overhead. The sun’s rays didn’t penetrate the tree cover, and she could barely see where they were going.
Birds flew out of the trees in great bursts, like ashes out of the fireplace. Squirrels hurried up tree trunks. April had the impression all the woodland creatures knew Mitch well enough to get out of his way.
She tried to picture where the Castle had been situated. She knew it was close to the main road out of town, the same road that she’d traveled to get to Mirabella. Thick woods hid it from view.
The Jeep burst through the trees into a small clearing, before Vince and Ed arrived, as promised. Mitch pulled the emergency brake and the car jerked to a stop. All heads turned toward them.
There were four men standing in dust, surveying a pile of rubble. Henry Yost, the local policeman, was easy to spot. He held a rifle in his left hand, low on his leg. He was wearing calf-high black boots, a light gray uniform and a Smokey-the-Bear hat. His badge was bright and shiny and a dead giveaway that he was local and not a state trooper.
Two older men, too old to be workers, stood at Yost’s side. They were chattering excitedly to each other. One was completely bald. His face was red with excitement. The other had crew-cut gray hair and was sporting a Members Only jacket over his khakis.
Yost was ignoring them, instead watching a tall man in a yellow hard hat and steel-toed construction boots. He stood with his feet planted wide apart, hands on his hips. His T-shirt read “Retro Reproductions.” This had to be Lyle. His long face was unlined. He looked completely at ease.
April got out of the Jeep and walked toward the rubble. Mitch joined her, whistling. “Wow. He did quite a number on the place.”
Most of the house had fallen in on itself. The chimney stack was exposed. A raw red pipe stuck out of the ground like a graveyard marker. Pieces of wallboard had been tossed into the trees overhead. The smell of cordite lingered in the air. Smoke hovered.
The rock fireplace in the front of the house was still intact. April could see a panel of a heavy oak door and mangled window frames. Glass glittered in the dirt. A few steps to her right, and April was looking at a cross section of the building. It reminded her of her favorite Richard Scarry books. How Do Things Work in Busytown was the best. She’d learned enough about construction from his books to keep her intrigued by her father’s work.
Lyle had a phone to his ear, and he nodded as they approached. Mitch lifted his chin in acknowledgment.
“What are you doing here, Mitch?” Yost said. “Coming to see what’s left of your legacy?”
April flinched at the officer’s tone, but Mitch just smiled. “It’s not every family that has its own ruins,” Mitch said cheerfully.
Yost was wearing sunglasses, practicing his dead stare. April felt the controlled excitement coming off him, a man who had nothing to police most days of the week but unlicensed dogs.
He looked her over, found her uninteresting and turned back to Mitch.
“Most ruins happen over centuries,” Yost said. “Your father managed to run down this place in less than twenty years.”
Mitch’s eyes darkened, and his tone grew harsh. “Don’t pretend you didn’t have a role in that,” he said to Yost. He moved away, out of Yost’s sight line. April followed him, feeling his cop gaze on her.
The gray-haired man caught Mitch’s arm. “Too bad your father wasn’t here to witness this. I don’t know if it would break his heart or cheer him up,” the man said.
“The latter, Mo,” Mitch said, his forehead furrowed despite his light words. He shook Mo’s hand and the hand of the bald man. “You two sidewalk supervising? Doing your part to help out?”
Mo chuckled, his face a wide expanse of wrinkles and grooves. “You know these jobs go smoother when we’re here. We watch that these whippersnappers do their job right.”
“Not so sure that worked today,” Mitch replied, then turning to April, said, “These old fellas have got nothing better to do than hang around watching other people work.”
He introduced her to them. “This is April Buchert, Ed’s daughter.”
The description didn’t bother Mo or his friend at all. They watched Yost and Lyle with interest. Yost took a phone call.
The bald man’s arms were tattooed with purple age marks. His head bobbed as though the connection between it and his spine was tenuous. He held a hand out to April. “I’m Curly. Your father calls us the Three Stooges.”
April looked for a third man. The old man’s face fell when he saw her questioning expression. “Guess we’re not that anymore,” he said quietly. Mo touched his arm.
Mitch said, “Where is George?”
“Didn’t you hear?” Mo said. “He died last night, man.”
Mitch’s face fell. “God damn.”
“I know what you mean,” Curly said, his voice cracking with emotion. April felt her own throat thicken as the old man’s eyes filled with tears. He patted Mitch several times on the shoulder, unable to stop.
Mo became animated. “You won’t believe this, Mitch. Yost dragged us here this morning, trying to pin George’s death on the Castle. He’s got some lamebrain idea that George fell down yesterday when the three of us were out here and hit his head, and then died in his bed.”
“But if he died in his bed . . . Yost brought you two out here, for what exactly?” Mitch asked. His forehead wrinkled with concern.
Curly said, “He doesn’t think George died of old age in his bed. He’s trying to pin it on us being here at the job site. He’d like nothing more than to keep us away from the jobs. Says we’re a nuisance.”
“He wanted to see if we could handle the terrain. You know how hard it is to get to the Castle from the road. He parked up there,” Mo said, pointing up and behind them.
April looked. She could barely see the blacktop from here through the brush. The slope was steep, unlike the road through the woods. From their vantage point, the berm of the road had to be at least ten feet over their heads. April searched for her father’s pickup but could see nothing. She heard a car go by without stopping.
Mo was still complaining about Yost. “He had us climb down here. We told him George was in better shape than both of us, but Yost wouldn’t listen. We didn’t know the place was getting blown up today.”
“You should’ve seen Yostie when he saw Lyle setting his charges.” Curly chuckled. Yost was disliked by young and old, evidently.
“What did Trocadero use?” Mitch asked. He watched Yost and Lyle conversing.
“Dynamite,” Mo said.
Mitch whistled. “That’s what I thought it was. No one uses that anymore.” He looked worriedly at April. “This could really be a mess if Retro Reproductions didn’t have the proper permits,” he said.
Curly shrugged. “Lyle’s old school. He learned demolition at the quarry his dad worked at. He goes with what’s familiar.”
A sharp voice broke through their conversation. “Damn it all to hell, Lyle! What happened?” Ed yelled.
Vince and Ed were climbing down the steep embankment. Vince was ahead of Ed, who was hanging on to tree roots to steady himself. Ed’s face was mottled red, and his chest was heaving. April felt her own diaphragm tighten and pressed on it.
“Great,” Ed muttered as he passed her. “Deputy Dawg is already here.”
Vince and Ed skirted April, Mitch and the two old men. Vince nodded at her. Her father made a beeline to Lyle.
Lyle met him at the corner of the clearing, moving aside a piece of insulation with his toe. Yost was right behind him, still talking on his phone. “You told me to go ahead,” Lyle said.
Ed said, saliva spraying, “I did no such thing. I told you to wait.”
Lyle waggled his hand, middle fingers bent in as though he were talking on the phone. “You called back. I heard you and Mrs. H. She wanted the building down.” He pitched his voice up. “ ‘Immediately,’ she said.”
April grinned. His imitation of her
upper-crust accent was spot on.
Vince took Ed’s phone out of his hands. He read the screen and pointed out something to Ed. Ed’s eyes rolled.
Vince said, “You must have hit the redial when we were talking to her. Look, there are two calls to Lyle’s number. One at eight fifty and then one a half hour later.”
“I hate this damn phone,” Ed said, jamming it onto his belt holster.
“Damn,” Vince said, looking at the scene. “We had a lot of salvage possibility in there.”
Mitch whispered to April, “There was a lot of good wood in the Castle. Cherry beams and oak doors. Copper pipe. All worth money.”
Ed looked at April as though he’d forgotten she was around. He gave a light frown and a shake of the head, indicating she should disappear, fast. He couldn’t afford to focus on her. She smiled, trying to let him know she was there to help.
Vince stepped forward, shaking Yost’s hand after he’d hung up and stashed the phone on his belt. “Don’t think you’re going to need that,” he said, pointing at the rifle.
Yost tightened his grip and ignored Vince’s comment. He looked at Ed. “Eddy, Eddy, what have you done? I’m always cleaning up after you, it seems.”
“Look, Yost, don’t start with me,” Ed said, sputtering.
Vince put a calming hand on Ed’s arm and said “Sorry, Officer Yost, but everything is under control now.”
Yost continued to speak just to Ed. “You certainly know how to shake things up. That racket was heard all over the valley.” He held up his cell phone. “I’m getting reports of mortar fire from the vets, and old Mrs. Billheimer is holed up in her tornado cellar.”
Ed said, “Lyle was a little overzealous with the dynamite.” He glared at Lyle.
Yost squinted at him from under the brim of his hat. “I’m going to assume you have the necessary permits. I’ll leave that to the building inspectors. If not, you’ll face a hefty fine.”
He sounded as if nothing would make him happier. He took off his sunglasses. The skin on his face had darkened except for the area around his eyes. It was obvious he hadn’t thought about the raccoon results his favorite eye-wear were causing.
Lyle said, “We were cleared. I had a verbal okay.”
Ed looked worried. April knew not having permission in writing was the same as not having permission at all.
Ed tried to sound tough. “No big deal. We were commissioned to take down the Castle, and we did.”
His bluster didn’t ring true to April.
Vince said, “I hear you’ve been raiding these woods. Did you find a meth lab? Maybe that’s why it blew the way it did.”
Yost shook his head. “The Castle was clean. The kids weren’t even partying here. They were closer to the main house.”
He looked toward Mirabella. Two of the chimneys were visible from here. April wished she was back there, prep-ping the walls for her stamps. The dance between her father and Yost was tying her stomach in knots. She remembered Officer Yost as a guy who picked on teens. Clearly, he’d moved on. Ed was in his sights now.
Yost said, “Let’s take a look at what you’ve done here. My main concern is safety. Walk with me, you two.”
Ed and Vince had no choice but to follow him. Lyle leaned against a tree, marking their progress without seeming to look at them. April suspected he wanted Ed to forget he was there.
“Uh-oh,” Mitch said.
On the trail Mitch had used, Barbara Harcourt arrived in a Ralph Lauren golf cart, complete with yellow and white striped, fringed surrey top. Her high heel tapped the brake. She didn’t bother to get out but let the cart get to within inches of the clearing and surveyed the damage.
Yost moved to her side, offered her his hand and helped her out of the cart. With his uniform and hat and deferential manner, he looked like a limo driver.
A woman used to being heard, she didn’t wait for an explanation. Her voice carried. “Well, that certainly did the trick. I’m sure I’ll be hearing from some of my neighbors’ lawyers. They don’t like to be awakened by sonic booms.”
Mitch said to April, “Don’t worry. Her neighbors are just like her. They never sue each other. They’ll just take their revenge on the golf course. Or force her to pay too much at the next charity auction for the Gstaad ski trip.”
Ed began, “Mrs. H. . . .”
“No need to explain, Ed. The Castle is gone. I’m happy about that. Just clean up and get the mess out of here. I don’t want any more fuss about this place.” She glowered at him. “I’ll be gone for the rest of the day. I have a hospital board meeting to attend. When I get back, I expect to see this gone. Understood?”
Ed nodded morosely. “Mrs. H., we will do our best to get rid of the debris from this job as soon as we can. I’ll get some men on it right away.”
“See that you do, Ed. See that you do.” She took one last look, shaking her head as she got back in. Mrs. H. pulled hard on the little steering wheel, nearly causing the cart to tip over. As she drove off, a strong breeze rattled the pine trees. A shower of pink insulation pieces fell down upon the cart, creating the illusion of a sylvan bride being pelted with rose petals.
Yost and Ed and Vince continued to walk the grounds, arguing about the best route to take out the debris. Ed’s hands were moving in wide circles. He was getting agitated again. Yost was still going on about safety.
April moved away from Mitch. Curly was telling him a convoluted story about the way the blast had made him deaf for several minutes.
April couldn’t watch Yost continue to berate her father, so she took several steps into the shady woods. The trees thickened, a combination of old- and new-growth pines with an underpinning of mountain laurel. The waxy dark green leaves and woody trunks seemed too bulky to hold the delicate pink flowers that were just beginning to bloom.
Somewhere back here was where her father’s job trailer had been sited, fifteen years ago. Searching for any sign of it, she thought she saw a faint path, leading away from the Castle. The play of light on the green forest floor attracted her. Shards of glass from the blast captured the sun’s rays, making little rainbows on the ground. She bent down to move a branch so she could see the ferns beneath. A startled cardinal flew out of the tree. Tiny fiddleheads curled their way out of the brown leaves mulched under the mountain laurel. April noted their delicate violin shape. She could use that curve in a stamp. She described the shape in the air with her finger, trying to memorize it. This was an image worth preserving. Too bad she hadn’t brought her sketchbook. It was in the car, back at Mirabella.
She felt her phone in her pocket and remembered its camera. April balanced herself, squatting, and snapped a shot of the fern. She looked at the picture she’d taken. She snapped several more. The lighting wasn’t great, but the fern was there.
She straightened. Immediately she felt a tremor under her feet. She glanced toward the earth. It didn’t seem to be rolling. Still, she’d been in enough earthquakes to send her running away from the trees back to the clearing.
“Dad!” she yelled, heart pounding.
Ed was frozen in place, watching the Castle as though it was possessed by an inner demon. When she came into his peripheral vision, he grabbed her and tried to protect her head with his meaty hand. Vince moved closer to her on the other side.
As if one body, everyone took a step back. Mitch was behind her. Lyle looked worried, as though expecting to be blamed for this, too. Yost positioned himself, arms spread wide, in front of the two old men. They peeked around him like kids on Christmas morning trying to get a glimpse of reindeer on the roof.
The rumbling was not coming from a fault in the earth, but from the fireplace as it threatened to disassemble, the mortar crumbling, some inner flaw about to reveal itself. The noise grew louder as the rocks began to slide. The two old men chattered like disturbed blue jays.
Stones dropped from the top first. The bottom tier began to slide forward. There was a hesitation, and the forest was unnaturally quiet.
Then, as though tapped with an invisible mallet, the entire structure tumbled down, stopping just in front of April and her father.
The sigh could be felt as well as heard when the stones finally came to rest. Now nothing of the Castle remained standing.
After a moment, as the dust literally cleared, Ed said to April, “You okay?” His voice was throaty and deep. When she nodded, he asked loudly, “Everybody okay?”
Mo was wheezing. Yost pounded his back as the old man’s face turned white.
“Let’s get him out of this dust,” Yost said. Ed’s face grew more concerned as the old man hacked. Vince put a hand on Mo’s arm, watching him closely. He led him away and Curly followed.
April could not take her eyes off the fireplace rubble. Something looked out of place. Her artist’s eye was always drawn to anomaly. She took a step forward, willing the swirl of dust to stop so she could identify what she was seeing. Amidst the stones were bricks. The fireplace must have had a brick interior.
As she was making sense of what she was seeing, an object tumbled to the foreground.
The words burst out of her mouth. “That’s a skull.”
Yost heard her and in several long strides was at her side. Ed was right behind him.
“Stand back,” Yost yelled. Mo’s wheezing lessened, and he and the others moved back to the Castle.
“The Castle gives up its dead,” Curly said.
The hair stood up on the back of April’s neck.
Ed spoke first, head cocked. “Mitch, do you know where your father is?”
“Bora Bora. Doing missionary work.”
“Are you sure?” Ed said.
Officer Yost was quiet, staring at the skull as though it was going to talk.
Mitch threw up his hands. “That is not my dad, for crying out loud. I took my mother and him to the airport last month myself.”
“Perhaps it’s a friend of his then,” Ed persisted.
“This place has been empty for years. You know it was never used.”