The Caretaker of Lorne Field

Lydia didn’t say anything. Wolcott tried to meet her eyes, but instead lowered his gaze back to his folded hands. “Do you think Jack might’ve done something like that?” he asked.

“All I know is he told me it was an accident.”

“But you know him as well as anyone. Could he do something like that?”

She laughed. “Know him as well as anyone? Ha! I don’t have a clue what goes on in that block of cement he calls a head. But no, he wouldn’t intentionally hurt Lester. He never once laid a hand on me or the boys. It’s not in him to do something like that. He makes a lot of noise but that’s all it is.”

“He does seem to have quite a temper.”

“Not really. His bark’s worse than his bite.”

“What about his mental state?”

Lydia laughed again. “He’s no crazier now than he’s ever been.”

“I don’t know,” Wolcott said. “I was talking to him just last night and he acted pretty crazy to me. You know that a bunch of boys snuck down to Lorne Field and threw tomatoes at him? He wanted me to track them down so he could have them hung publicly in the town square.”

She shrugged. “That’s what’s written in his contract.”

“I don’t care what’s in his contract, that’s insane!”

“Don’t yell at me, Daniel.”

He nodded, contrite. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Durkin. But you have to admit someone wanting to have teenagers executed for throwing tomatoes at him is pretty insane.” He waited for her to say something. When she didn’t, he wet his lips and edged closer to her. He asked, “I was wondering if that contract has anything in it about cutting off someone’s thumb. You know, as a punishment?”

Lydia shook her head. “I’ve read it. There’s nothing like that in it. And my fool husband only does what’s spelled out in his contract.”

“I’d like to read it also.”

“You come over to the house when he’s not home and I’ll get it for you. You just can’t let him know I did it.”

He licked his lips again and asked, “So you don’t think Jack’s acting any crazier these days than usual?”

“Nope. No more than usual.”

“Then what do you think happened?”

“I have no idea. Probably it’s just an accident like Jack said. He was probably showing Lester how to pull out one of those weeds, and maybe what he was using slipped. Maybe he uses a knife. I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”

“I will when I talk to Jack later. Did he bring Lester back to your house after the incident?”

She nodded.

“Why didn’t he come with you to the hospital?”

A dark film fell over her eyes. “He had his weeding to do.”

“So he went back to Lorne Field afterwards?”

“That’s right. After he brought Lester home he headed back there.” She paused as she considered this, and as she did, her features weakened, becoming more like bone china than stone. “That would’ve been a violation of his contract. He’s not supposed to leave that field until his weeding’s done. It must’ve been difficult for him to do that.” A tear leaked from her eye. She wiped it away with a hand. “When do you plan on talking to him?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Daniel, can you wait until he leaves that field?”

“I don’t know if I can do that-”

“It would be hard on him to have someone come by that field like that. Please, Daniel, wait until he finishes his weeding.”

He started to tell her that that wouldn’t be possible, that there was possible evidence at the field which he needed to examine, but instead he looked away from her and stared out the window. “I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything.” A red-tailed hawk flew into view, and he watched as it circled lazily in the sky and then darted out of sight. He imagined that it spotted a rabbit or squirrel. He turned back to her. “What bothers me the most about all this is wondering what happened to Lester’s thumb. If it was cut off in an accident, then where is it?”

Lydia shrugged and said she didn’t know.

“This just doesn’t make sense. If it was simply an accident, why didn’t Jack bring Lester’s thumb with him so it could be reattached…?”

“He said it was lost,” Lydia said.

“What?”

“Jack said the thumb was lost,” she repeated weakly.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“That’s what he said.”

Wolcott frowned, his lips straightening out into a hard line. He pushed himself out of his chair and told her he’d have Lester’s doctor talk to her. He stopped at the door, took a deep breath, and informed her that Child Services was investigating the accident. “Until their investigation’s complete Lester’s going to have to be placed in a foster home. Bert, too. I’m sorry, Mrs. Durkin, but those are the rules.”

“That’s not right.”

“There’s nothing I can do about it,” he said.

“It’s still not right.”

“Mrs. Durkin, what we have right now is a seventeen-year-old boy alone with his father having his thumb cut off and no reasonable explanation as to how it happened.”

Lydia’s took a tissue from her pocketbook. Her hand shook as she dabbed her eyes with it. “That woman who talked to me, the one wearing a turtleneck sweater in ninety degree weather, she’s not with the hospital, is she?”

“Do you remember her name?”