The Caretaker of Lorne Field

“That’s fine, Goldman. Remember, though, I’m going to need the location of the body before I can agree to any deal.”

Goldman shook his head and laughed softly to himself. “You realize how nuts this is? To go to court to prove my client is mentally incompetent, but still not criminally insane?”

The waitress brought McGrale another scotch. He smiled sadly at it, knowing he had reached his limit. “If our office’s psychiatrist considers him criminally insane, I won’t fight a lifetime confinement to one of our fine mental institutions.”

Goldman finished his dinner, but stopped himself at three ales. He knew there were a number of police officers unhappy with him taking this case-as if he had any choice -who would be looking for a chance to pull him over for a DUI charge. After leaving McGrale, he sat in his car trying to make up his mind about something, then finally took out his cell phone and called his mother.

“Have we had first frost yet?” Goldman asked.

His mother sighed heavily. “I had just gotten into bed,” she complained. “You’re calling me at ten o’clock at night to ask me that?”

“Mom, please.”

“Well, if you had your own garden you’d already know the answer.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Yes, I know, you’re too busy as a hotshot lawyer to bother with a simple activity like gardening.”

Hotshot lawyer. He wanted to laugh. Public defender was nearer the bottom rung of the ladder, although this case could get his name in the paper. If it went to trial.

“Mom, please, can you just answer the question?”

“The answer is no. There hasn’t been a frost yet. But I’ll call you when we have one.”

“Thanks.”

After hanging up, he headed home. Before he had driven more than a few blocks, he turned his car around.

Goldman had left his car and was standing on the edge of Lorne Field. He had to admit that it was eerie standing out there under the full moon. The place had a desolate feel to it. No animal sounds, no birds or insects, nothing. That part of what Durkin had told him was true. But he also found himself disappointed that there was nothing growing there. The field was completely empty. Wolcott’s burnt-out jeep had been removed and there was nothing there but ashes from the fire. It made sense that there wouldn’t be any weeds growing there now, but it didn’t stop his disappointment. Goldman walked out into the field and could feel the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. He hurried back to his car, his heart racing with irrational fear. He could only imagine what spending four weeks alone out here could do to a man’s sanity, especially if you were already unhinged enough to believe that the weeds growing up where you slept were blood-thirsty monsters.

Chapter 13

The following morning Jack Durkin’s lawyer nudged him awake from a morphine-induced sleep to tell him about the deal being offered. Durkin refused. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t accept it,” he said irritably. “There ain’t no body. The Aukowies saw to that.”

His lawyer hunched over and stared at his hands. “Well, I guess that answers that,” he said. “Anyway, the state’s psychiatrist is going to be evaluating you-”

“I told you, I ain’t crazy!”

“I understand that, but the state has the right to order this, so I’m asking that you cooperate with her. Oh, by the way, I have good news for you.” He tried to grin, but it didn’t stick and slid off his face like a fried egg from a well-buttered frying pan. He lowered his eyes from Durkin’s hollow ones and stared back at his hands tapping out a drum beat on his knees. “I got a call from my mom this morning. We had our first frost of the season last night. The world should be safe.”

“Don’t treat me like an idiot,” Durkin said, his voice trembling. “I know you don’t believe a word I’ve been telling you about the Aukowies. But you drive out there yourself and you’ll see. Frost or no frost, they should be five feet tall by now, and somethin’ has to be done about them.”

Goldman continued to stare at his hands. “I drove out to Lorne Field last night. Mr. Durkin, there was nothing growing there.”

“That don’t make sense.”

“The fire you set scorched the ground and covered it with ash. With those conditions, probably nothing will grow out there for a while.” Goldman forced his lopsided grin as he peeked back up at Durkin. “Think of it this way, Mr. Durkin. You beat the Aukowies.”

Durkin looked confused as he met his lawyer’s eyes. “They ain’t weeds,” he muttered. “They don’t grow there. That’s just where they choose to come out of the ground.”

“Well, Mr. Durkin, I don’t know what to tell you except that the Aukowies are gone. You won.”

Goldman got up to leave and Durkin stopped him to ask whether he contacted Jeanette Thompson yet about getting back his contract and the Book of Aukowies. Goldman told him he’d do it later that week, then nodded, his lopsided grin fixed in place as he left the room.