The Caretaker of Lorne Field

“All I can think is he can’t remember what happened. He seemed to go into shock pretty fast.”

“That must be it,” Hank agreed with more certainty. “Those bastards trying to make a case out of this.” He turned away and rapped his knuckles hard against the door. When Griestein opened it, Hank told him his client was expected in court for his arraignment hearing.

“I thought it was tomorrow.”

“No, sir. You can call over there if you’d like.”

Griestein made a face over the prospect of having to do that. He led Durkin and his attorney to the front desk while he called the courthouse. He seemed surprised to find that Hank had his facts straight. “I didn’t think it was going to be until tomorrow,” he muttered to himself as he hung up the phone.

Over at the courthouse they had to wait twenty minutes until a flustered county attorney, Jill Bracken, arrived with Dan Wolcott at her side. Bracken was in her early thirties, slender yet athletic, and would’ve been attractive except for all the sharp edges on her. She wore a steel-gray suit that matched the color of her eyes and had her shoulder-length blond hair rolled up into a tight bun. She started to sputter immediately to Judge Harris that this was highly unusual to schedule an arraignment hearing so quickly. “I haven’t had a chance to prepare yet,” she said as she fumbled with a pile of notes.

Judge Harris held out a hand to stop her, an impatient frown showing on his round face. “Counsellor, if you’re going to have the defendant arrested, then you should be prepared to read the charges filed against him. Tell me that you are prepared.”

Red blotches showed along Jill Bracken’s cheeks. “Yes, your honor. The defendant is charged with aggravated assault.”

“And how is that?”

“He used a knife to cut off his son’s thumb.”

Judge Harris turned to Hank. “And your client’s side of the story?”

“It was an accident, your honor.”

“Is that what happened, Mr. Durkin?”

Jack Durkin nodded.

Judge Harris picked up a trial calendar and frowned at it. “Unless there are any objections the trial date will be set for November second. Mr. Thompson, you will guarantee that your client will appear in this court on that date?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“At this time I see no reason to impose bail. The defendant is free to go until then.”

Jill Bracken nodded as she arranged the stack of papers in front of her, but Wolcott whispered intently to her, then spoke out. “Judge, I was the arresting officer. I believe this man is a danger to the community and he should be committed for a seventy-two-hour psych evaluation.”

Judge Harris stared hard at Wolcott, annoyance deepening his frown. He started to tap his fingers along his bench. “Sheriff Wolcott, I don’t believe I asked for your opinion-”

“Judge, I have a sworn statement from his son, Lester, that Mr. Durkin tackled him to the ground and then held him down as he cut off his thumb.”

Judge Harris blanched at hearing that. He shot Hank Thompson a questioning look before turning back to Wolcott.

“Why would Mr. Durkin do that?”

Wolcott laughed sourly. “Somehow he got it in his head that he could convince the town a weed bit his son’s thumb off.”

“Are there other injuries consistent with the type of struggle that you described?”

“The boy’s thumb was cut off!”

“I understand that, but were there other injuries, such as scrapes or cuts, that would be consistent with the boy being tackled to the ground?”

Wolcott consulted with Jill Bracken as the two of them searched through her notes.

“I’m not prepared to answer that at this time,” he said.

“Well, you should be. Any other reasons to call Mr. Durkin’s mental state into question?”

“I’d have to think so. He believes the weeds at Lorne Field are some kind of monsters.”

“That’s a lie,” Jack Durkin said. “Don’t go putting words in my mouth.”

“You haven’t been telling me those are monsters out there?”

“As far as I’m concerned I’m only honoring a contract with this town and pulling out weeds every day as my contract requires. Nothing more.”

Judge Harris smiled at that. Hank gave Durkin a wink. Jill Bracken consulted furiously with her notes. Wolcott stared flabbergasted at Durkin.

“Judge, this man told me just the other day that a weed bit off his son’s thumb. Also some boys snuck down to Lorne Field and pelted him with tomatoes. He wanted me to find them so they could be publicly executed!”

Judge Harris tapped his fingers harder along the bench. “Is that true?”

Durkin shook his head. “No, sir. I showed him where in my contract it calls for that, but all I wanted him to do was find those boys so they could help out with my weeding as punishment.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Judge Harris agreed.

“Judge, he’s lying! That’s not how our conversation went!” Wolcott, his face flushed, stared open-mouthed at Durkin before turning back to face Judge Harris. “I learned this morning that Lester was one of the boys who pelted Mr. Durkin with tomatoes. I can’t help thinking that he found out and cut off Lester’s thumb as some sort of retaliation.”