By Hal Mansfield
The filthy, raggedly dressed, and smelly young man walked into a big, fancy store and asked a young, attractive woman clerk at the counter for a bar of soap.
"Sure. Right over here. We have a lot of different kinds. Do you want only one bar?" she asked, with a rather smug, teasing smile.
"What do you mean?" The young man seemed unsure. Defensive.
"What I mean is that we have a special on this kind over here. Three bars for the price of two," she answered more seriously.
"How much? Only got so much money for soap," he replied, obviously still defensive and suspicious.
"Actually, just soap may not do it," she added. "Well, different soaps do different jobs. Soap isn't just soap anymore. Some are harsher than others. For instance, your hands."
She pointed toward his hands, but he jerked his hands back, almost violently, and began to back away.
"They may need a special cleaner and then some medication to help them heal. They look awfully sore and chapped. You must work very hard with those hands." Her tone had changed to one of genuine concern.
"Oh." He seemed interested and he relaxed a little as he looked first at the many varieties of soap and then took a quick, furtive look at the young woman.
"Yes. Hands that work hard, even with gloves on, require special care. Otherwise they get chapped, injured and sore like yours seem to be."
"I kin work as hard as anyone, I reckon. Hafta. Can't make ends meet, anyways. Don't have money for a bunch of fancy soaps or for, wha'd ya say? Medication?"
"What kind of work do you do?" She asked in a friendly but matter-of-fact way.
"Diggin’, mostly. Shovelin’ dirt and stuff. Loadin’ and unloadin’. Anything I can git. Man's gotta work. Work hard. Still can't afford fancy stuff. Thought a big store like this would have some plain soap. Cheap soap. Someone said you was havin’ a great sale. So I stopped in. First time. Always ‘fore I thought this place was too highbrow for the likes of me."
"Yes. I can see that you work hard. Do you do yard work? I have plenty of yard work that needs to be done. I can't seem to get anyone who is steady or dependable. A man that works as hard as you do and who needs that work must be dependable. And the yard work season is just beginning."
"I'm dependable." He paused and looked quickly at the woman, then back at the soap.
"Ain't never worked for no woman ‘fore. Nobody ever asked me to do yard work. Never had a yard. Don't know as I would know what to do."
"It's nothing special. To learn, I mean. It's not hard to learn. I could show you. Explain."
"Depends." He eyed her briefly. Suspiciously.
"Where do you live? I ain't got no car, or nothin’ like that. Gotta walk to work, so I mostly work near where I live."
"There is a bus. I'd pay bus fare, as well as for the time you spent on the yard. Or, I could pick you up. I have a car."
"I don't cotton much to cars, or to wimmin drivers, if it comes to that. Heard lots ‘bout wimmin drivers."
"The bus then. That is, if you will do it. If you will come do my yard work."
"Maybe." He stared hard at the rows and rows of soap.
"I pay $30.00 per week. That is for mowing, trimming and raking. It's not all that hard, but it does take three or four hours, at first. I'll show you how."
"Thirty dollars?"
"Well, that is what I have been paying. How does that sound? We could ... You could look it over. Decide that way."
"Must be some mighty big yard, if you pay $30.00."
"No. Not large. But, there is quite a bit of work. Some flowers. That sort of thing."
"Don't know nothin’ ‘bout flowers." As he said that he started backing away.
"Wait. You forgot your soap. I could explain about the flowers. It's just pulling some weeds and digging. Nothing complicated or fancy. Takes a little time, though."
"Maybe.""Here is your soap. And, here is some medication for those sores on your hands. It will really help them."
"Just the soap. Don't have money for that other stuff. How much for the soap that's on special?"
"On the house. I mean I'll pay for it for coming out to see if you will do my lawn work. It will help pay for your time. I’ll give you my address. When can you come out?"
"Sunday's only day I got to myself. Hafta be then or not at all."
"Sunday is fine with me. Where do you live?"
"What?" He started to back away quickly.
"I mean, where will you be coming from. So I can give you the directions. Which bus to take, that sort of information."
"Don't know buses. They cost money. I walk places, or I don't go. Mostly, I don't go."
"I live out by Regency Park. Do you know where that is?"
"Not ‘xactly. Never been in that part of town. Heard of it. Too fancy for someone like me. I've heard the cops pick up people like me if they see them up in the fancy places. So, I stay away. I don't like to look for trouble, ‘specially not with the law. I got ‘nuff trouble just makin’ ends meet."
"From here, take the #10 bus, North. Ask the driver to let you off at Montclair. Walk two blocks west on Montclair. I'm on Gregory Vista, just two houses to the right from Montclair. It is 3220. It's not one of the really fancy or expensive homes in the area, though I admit there are some expensive houses in the general area. Here, I have written it down."
"I ain't much on buses."
"I can give you the fare as part of your payment for coming out to look at the job. That's fair, isn't it?"
"No. You already gave me the soap and the medicine for that. I don't want to be over-beholdin’ to you, ‘case I change my mind. I don't know about fancy neighborhoods, or flowers, or workin’ for wimmin."
"Okay. Walk out the same way the bus goes. You can't miss it. The streets are well marked. It is a straight shot to my place from here. That's one reason I have stayed here and that I live in that particular house. Actually, I ride the bus myself most of the time. It is just over two miles."
"Two miles ain't nothin’. You must be mighty rich to work in place like this and own a house, an all."
"No, I'm not rich. What time would you like to come out on Sunday?"
"About eight, I guess. I got things to do. Sunday is my day. I got things to do later on."
"But, could you actually do the work, or some of it, on Sunday? If it looks okay, I mean, and if the money is right? I know you can do the work. It only takes a bit of getting used to. And, I will show you, really."
"Money's okay. Depends on them flowers, and on workin for a woman. Ain't never done that before. Wimmin are ..." His voice trailed away. He looked once more quickly at the young woman and then away.
"See you Sunday. I have to wait on another customer."
"Maybe. If I don't show up, I'll come back and pay you for the soap, but just the soap. This here medication stuff is on you. That was your idea. I didn't come in here for no medication. My hands are always banged up like this. No way out of it. That's what hard work does, and I can't ‘fford gloves."
"I understand. I sure hope you come out Sunday. The yard needs someone steady, reliable, dependable. Someone like you must be. There is a whole season of work for a dependable person."
The young woman answered the doorbell. It was a little before eight o'clock and it was Sunday morning. He stood there, just as dirty and smelly as he had been when she met him at the store a few days before.
However, his hands looked somewhat better. They looked scrubbed and the sores seemed to be healing. They were not as chapped as they had been. She smiled but said nothing. Want it or not, he was using the medication she provided.
"Come in, come in."
"No time for that. Got things to do later on. Jes’ came to see if the work is somethin' I kin do."
"Okay. I thought a cup of coffee might go well, before we start, since it is so early. But, let's get at it. I'll show you around. Then, if you are willing, we can do the work."
"Thought I would do the work. If you can do it, why am I here?" he looked about somewhat suspiciously.
"Oh, you will do the work. I meant I could show you some of the things we talked about. I have things to do inside once you get started. It shouldn't take too long for me to show you around."
With that she walked out of the house and around toward the garage.
"Usually, the boy I had doing this mowed the yard first. Then he would trim the edges. Finally, he would pull a few weeds and do a little grubbing and spading in the flowerbeds; that's about it."
"Looks easy to me. Sure you couldn't do it, lady?"
"Well, yes, I suppose I could, if I had to. However, I have other things I need to do. I work too you know. There is only so much I can get done. The house cleaning and the laundry take up most of my free time for the weekends. I do have to keep my hands
looking nice for my job. Besides, I don't want to work all weekend. I like to go places, do things, don't you?"
"Some, I guess. Mostly I work. Where's the mower?"
"It's right here in the garage. I'll show you how to start it. It already has gas ... it's already to go."
"Start it? I ain't much on motors or power mowers. Don't you have a push mower, one I can do by hand? I heard ‘bout them power mowers. They sometimes throw things. Hurt people."
"Not any more. That used to be true. They have guards now. I'll show how to start it and how to work it. It's safe; I promise.
"See you just set the lever to start it the first time. Then, you pull the handle like this. Presto." The mower roared to life. She shouted above the racket.
"Next you just wheel it like this and press the bar. It stops automatically when you release the bar. It is self-propelled. It does all of the work, really." She shut it off.
"That's what I don't understand. If it's that easy, why do you need me? Even a woman can run one of those contraptions."
"Like I said; it's the time. Here, you try it. I'll just watch for a minute, then show you how and where to dump the clippings."
He started the mower, pushed the lever and skillfully guided it around the lawn for several rounds.
She stepped over toward where he was working and he stopped the machine and shut it off.
"You can tell by the sound of the motor when the bag needs to be emptied. There are trash barrels here, inside the garage. Just empty the bag into the barrels. The full barrels go out here beside the garage for the rubbish people. They come on Mondays."
He quickly emptied the bag into one of the barrels and started mowing. She watched for a couple of minutes and then went inside.
When he was almost through mowing, she reappeared. He finished the last round and wheeled the mower into the garage where it had been.
"I kin do the trimmin' now. That mowin' wasn't much of a job. Like you said, it's a small yard. Where are the clippers?"
"The edger and trimmer are here. They plug into the outside sockets, front and rear. It's faster than clippers. I'll show you where the sockets are."
"I already seen 'em. You sure got lots of machinery 'round here. Who fixes it when it goes bad? That's what machinery is best at, goin' bad. I like simple tools. That's what I work with, like shovels. No movin' parts. Nothin' to go wrong, 'cept maybe break it, if you strain too hard."
He hadn't waited for an answer to his question about who fixed things when they went bad. She guessed he really didn't want to know; that it was a comment not a formal question.
He walked out with the trimmer, plugged it in, and started around the edges and flowerbeds. He seemed to know exactly what to do. He was quick, but careful. She stood watching him a bit too long. She realized he did not like to have her watching him, so she hurried into the house.
When the trimmer stopped whirring longer than usual, she went out to the garage. He had already put it back in its place and was busy clearing weeds from one of the flowerbeds. She could tell he did not want any instructions or advice. She went back into the house, puzzled by how much he seemed to know about "machinery," as he called it and about what she wanted done. He seemed to have an instinct about the work. It must be that, since he had said that he did not do yard work.
After a while, the doorbell rang.
"You want to look around to see how I did, or, if there's any more to do?"
"Just a minute," she said. "I'm having some iced tea. You look a little hot. Can I get a glass of iced tea for you? We can drink it while we walk around and look things over."
She did not wait for a reply but went to the kitchen and fetched two large glasses of iced tea she had ready in the refrigerator. She returned and handed one of the glasses to him as she stepped outside.
"I can get more sugar, if it isn't sweet enough."
"It's fine, jes’ fine," he said, even before he took a drink. But, when he did drink some of the tea, he did so with relish.
They walked around the yard slowly, saying nothing as she sipped her iced tea and as his quickly disappeared. She nodded approvingly at the yard and the flowerbeds.
"Done just like an expert. I thought you said you had never done yard work."
"Never have. Ain't no big deal. Jes' to be sure I went home with one of the guys I work with some. We looked over his yard and he showed me about his mower and his edger and trimmer. They ain't that much different from yours. Your mower is fancier. 'Bout the same, really. Not that I like power mowers, you understand."
"You did a swell job. It looks the best it has in some time. Fast, too. You did it in about half the time it used to take the neighbor boy."
"'Speck you'll want to pay me half wages, then," he said without rancor.
"Oh, no," she said quickly. "It's worth the $30.00, at least. Especially since it looks so nice. No, I would never dock you on the price, just because you work fast."
"Still too much. $30.00 is a lot of money. Ain't worth it for such a small yard. Your price, though. You say $30.00, that's okay by me. Long as you know it's more than the job is worth."
He could talk when he got started, after all. She noticed he no longer was giving her the quick, furtive looks he had at the store and earlier in the day. He seemed to be relaxing a bit, becoming more natural.
"Good signs," she thought. She couldn't get over the fact that he had actually taken the time and effort to learn some of the things that were expected for the job before coming over.
"It was nice of you to take the time to go to your friend's house to prepare for today. That probably saved you a good deal of time, today. That's all the more reason for the full $30.00. It took time and effort on your part to do that."
"Ain't got no friends. He's jes' a guy that bosses where I work sometimes. Figured he could show me better and quicker that you could; so, I asked him. Didn't know if you really knew what was needed here."
"Oh," she said, somewhat quietly. "You don't think much of women, do you?"
"Ain't never had no cause to. Trouble. Ain't had nothin' but trouble from wimmin. First my Ma, now my Sis.
"Course part of her trouble is her no 'count husband." He stopped short, as if he had said more than he wanted to.
"Gotta go. Lot's to do today. I'm obliged for the work. If you like what I did, I'll come again. You say when."
"Every week will be fine with me. I'll get the money. I'm glad you will do it for me. It has been a worry, with the new season and never knowing whether it would get done, or not. It's good to have a man, a dependable man, doing it."
"Don't know about that. Sometimes I may be too busy. If I git a big job. You'll know, though."
"Yes, let me know. I'll give you my phone number, just in case." She hurried in the house and returned with the money and with yet another slip of paper that had her name, address and phone number on it.
"You know, I don't even know your name. Could you leave it with me? An address or phone number?"
"Don't have no phone. Name's Lloyd. Lloyd Daggett. I need to git in touch with you 'bout not comin', I can. See you next week." He turned and strode away.
She put her hands on her hips, akimbo, and watched him go. She pursed her lips and said, "That surely is a strange one. An odd mixture of ignorance and common sense. I wonder why he doesn't clean himself once in while and wear some decent clothes. Maybe, just maybe, I could work on that, since he did use the hand medication. I wonder
what he would look like with a decent haircut and shave and with some nice clothes. And, with a little more weight. He looks half-starved. Mmmm, might just be a worthy project."
As he disappeared around the corner, she turned and went into the house, wondering if he really would come to do the yard on the next Sunday.
The doorbell rang and she looked through the peephole before she opened the door.
"Hello, Dad, come on in. I wasn't expecting you, today."
"Hi, Sweetie. The yard sure looks nice. That kid you got doing it is getting better."
"He isn't doing it anymore."
"I might have known. You do it, yourself?"
"Always the nosey cop, eh? No, I had someone I met down at the store come out and do it. He seems dependable and he surely did a nice job. Quick, too. Same pay as I was giving, Joey."
"Just out and about. Thought you wouldn't mind if I stopped by. I went to early church service. Someone you met at the store? I didn't know any of those people down there ever soiled their hands."
"You won't give up until you have the whole story, will you, Dad? I should have known. Okay, okay. One girl was out sick the other day and two were on their breaks. So, I was working on the soap counter. It was our big sale. I sometimes help out, just to keep in touch. Sort of like you and your questions. Here you are retired for four years and you are still grilling me, just like I was a prime suspect in one of your cases."
"Now, Sweetie. It's not that bad. I was just making conversation; you know that. Besides with my consulting and my 'private eye' work, I'm not fully retired, as you well know." He hunched his still-powerful shoulders and held his hands out, palms up, in feigned innocence.
"What should I talk about, the weather? Your yard looks really nice. Freshly done. Not ragged as usual. Naturally, I would notice."
"And naturally you would be curious. I'm sorry, Dad, It's just that I do feel more than a little guilty. I know you won't approve."
"Another stray I suppose," he winked slyly, as he said it.
"Yes, another stray. As I said, I was working the counter. He came in looking for soap. He said he had heard about our sale. Lord knows, he didn't look like one of our steady customers. And, he really did need some soap. His hands were a mess. Blisters and chapped. You wouldn’t believe his clothes and his shoes.
"He talked about hard work. About only having money for one bar of soap. I needed a yardman. So, I asked. He came. The rest is out there for you to see."
"Boy, you sure can pick 'em, Sweetie. Did you get references? What do you know about him? Maybe he's a front man for that cat burglar that has been hitting houses up in this end of town."
"No, no references. No, no cat burglar. He is just a poor, young man who needed some work. And me? I'm just a poor old maid who needed ... yard work done. No crime. No intrigue. Sorry, Dad, no retired ex-police chief is needed on this case. You'll have to find work elsewhere.
"Want some iced tea, Dad? He had some iced tea. In fact, his glass may still have his fingerprints on it. You could take it down to the lab. Better yet, you could have the mobile lab out here. They could dust the mower and trimmer handles."
"Iced tea sounds great, if you don't mind my staying that long, but only that long. I know you working girls – excuse me, career women, executive career women – have a lot to do on the weekends. Cooking for the week, laundry, housework."
"One iced tea coming up." She was not about to get into the fact that she had never married; had never provided her late Mother and her Dad with the grandchildren they so much wanted.
"Let's drink these out on the patio. It's a little stuffy in here." She opened the sliding doors and took the tray with the iced tea outside.
"One last question. You know, a good cop always has one more question, don't you."
"Yes, I know. His name is Lloyd Daggett. No phone. No known address, past or present. He may be here next Sunday. You can come grill him then. But, we will need a larger grill. I doubt this one will hold him." As she said that, she gave the patio grill a light slap.
"Daggett, you say? Used to be some Daggetts down in the south part of town. Rough crowd. Nothing really bad. Drunks, mostly. Haven't run across any of them for years. I had forgotten the name until you mentioned it. I wonder ... "
"It's probably a common name. Could be dozens of them in a big city like this. Some may even have phones and addresses. He may not be from around here. He sort of had an accent."
"Those other Daggetts did too. Probably from the South at one time. Years ago, likely."
"What are you doing on Decoration Day, Dad? Do you want to come over for dinner? I think I'll have fried chicken, potato salad, baked beans, and cherry pie. Anything in that menu you might be willing to eat, so I won't be sitting alone. We could out to Mom’s grave later?"
"Hoped you might ask. You couldn't keep me away, even with no invite and a police barricade." He rose quickly, drank the last of his iced tea in one long swallow.
"Got to go, so you can finish your weekend maid's work. A man may work from sun to sun, but a woman's work is never done. Or, a cop's, even an ex-cop's."
"Don't scare him off, Dad. When you check him out, I mean. Don't let him know. He is skittish of cops. He said so. He said he does not need trouble; he needs work."
"You talked about the police? How did that come up?"
"He was concerned about walking up here. He doesn't like buses. More than likely, he does not have money for the buses. Anyhow, he said he stayed away from highbrow neighborhoods, like this. He said the cops pick up people like him just because he looks like he doesn't belong.
"I need a yard man. He does good work. He was fast and confident, even with no experience. I don't think he is or ever has been a crook. I know you; you will do some checking. Just do it so he won't know; so you don't scare him off. Okay?"
"Sure, Sweetie. Just a little routine background check. Just to be sure he isn't a sex maniac," he chuckled. "Or a real bad 'un. Okay?"
"Okay. I know you mean well. It is safer to know, especially in this day and age. Good luck, not that the best-there-ever-was needs me to wish you luck."
"Thanks, Sweetie, I needed that. Us old folks need to have our laurels remembered, if only by a daughter, if only once in a while and if only with a touch of sarcasm." He quickly disappeared around the corner of the house.
"No sarcasm. You were the best." She said after him. But, she made no move to follow him. She gathered up the glasses and the tray and went inside, not knowing whether to smile or to frown. She hesitated at the sink.
"I wonder if he knew about my new yard man before he came over. The neighbors? I have kept to myself, but it would be just like him to have the neighbors looking after me, too. I hope it isn't Eric who snitches on me. No, I couldn't possibly be Eric; he is too good a friend. He would tell me, first, then only snitch very selectively, to keep Dad from 'hiring' someone else in the neighborhood to keep an eye on me. I don’t believe in coincidences. Or, in Jung’s synchronicity either.”
"Hi, Chief, what's up? Haven't seen you around here is some time." The captain smiled broadly and held out his hand. He looked older than his ex-chief and he was too heavy by forty pounds.
"Hello, Frank. I try to stay away. You fellows have enough to do without having us 'has-beens' around to stumble over. It is good to see you, good to come down once in a while, even on business. Even on a Monday morning."
"What do you need?"
"Nothing special. Just want a rundown on one Lloyd Daggett, white male, no age, no known address and no phone. Thought I'd see if we have a make on him. And, if so, what it says."
"Let's check him out. After you, chief. You know the way."
The men disappeared down a long hall and into a room full of filing cabinets. First, Frank sat at a computer and typed in ‘Lloyd Daggett.’ Nothing came up. Next, they went to the filing cabinets and looked. Still nothing. They walked back to Frank’s office.
“Thanks, Frank. I guess I'm glad we didn't turn up anything. No news doesn't always mean no record. But, I think in this case it does. I really didn't have any reason to believe we would – I mean that you would – have anything on him. Sort of hoped you wouldn't as a matter of fact."
"Let me know if I can help in any other way. Should I keep it in mind, Chief?"
"No need to. I have some other leads to follow. One of them will pan out; I have no doubt about it. It's not like trying to find someone on the run, someone who is avoiding us . . . er, you. It should be a piece of cake. I know just enough to lead me on. If I really hit a dead-end, I'll come back. Remember, it is no big deal. Very casual. Very routine. Just a reference check, as it were.”
The chief got in his car. He sat briefly tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, his brow lightly furrowed. Then he started the car and eased the car into the traffic. It was a little early in the search, but he decided to play his next hunch right then.
He parked the car in the south side of town and walked into the day-labor employment office. He went up to the information desk.
"Larry Schiffiano in?"
"Yes, he's in his office. May I tell him who you are and why you want to see him."
"Tell him it is George Morning. Tell him I want to wring something from that fabulous memory of his. He'll recognize the name and the mission."
The clerk spoke briefly on the phone, smiled and showed the ex-chief the way to Mr. Schiffiano's office.
"Hi, George, come on in. I thought you were out of the business of needing my memory. You sure have been scarce the past few years. First, you are too high and mighty, being the chief and all. Then, you go and retire. Obscene for someone our age to
retire, George. Gives all of us a bad name: Old. That's what the young punks think. They think I'm old just because some lazy rascal like you retires. They look at me and wonder how long I can hang on. What were you, 58? That must be some pension plan you
cops have. I can't slip out for several more years. My family and I would starve on the pension the employment service offers."
"Come on, Larry, I was forced out. You knew that, didn't you? Politics. A good cop makes a lousy politician. At least that’s my excuse. Good to see you. You don't look like a doddering old man to me. Besides you must be older than me from what you say. That's what makes you an old man. All of those extra years are crucial.
"Larry, I'm looking for a laboring-type. Just doing a reference background for a ... for a friend. I figure he may work out of this office. He's poor as dirt. He does heavy work. His hands are usually banged up. So, I thought of you and of that marvelous memory. His name is Lloyd Daggett." George paused.
"Daggett? It does ring a bell. I think there used to be a whole family of them. Kinda rough-house types. Drunks, as I remember. But, you see, I'm not out on the line any more. I sit in here and fill out forms. Just a pencil pusher. That's what my fabulous memory, as you call it, has done for me. It's got me promoted to chief pencil pusher."
Larry leaned over and punched the intercom.
"Jack, any record of any type on a Lloyd Daggett? What? Yes, D-a-g-g-e-t-t. Lloyd. Most likely grunt labor, by the day. Probably recent. Maybe a regular. If you find anything can you bring down to my office?"
"Our records are confidential, you know. Is this off the record?" Larry laughed.
"Yes,” George said. “Definitely off the record. Headquarters didn't have anything on him. I'll try the courthouse next. But I'm pretty sure he works in this end of town. He definitely works hard and with his hands. I can't come up empty on this, even if it is just to see if he would make a good gardener. It's sort of like my reputation is at stake, since I volunteered to do this."
"How about some coffee. It won't take Jack long; he's a pretty fair country pencil pusher, too. He keeps good records. Has to. Otherwise I'd chew him out."
"No. No coffee. I would like some soda pop. You got a machine around here. This cop work is hot, dry and thirsty work. No wonder I bowed out early. You guys got it soft down here with plush offices and air conditioning. Whew! We never had it so good, even uptown."
Larry pushed a button on his intercom. "Dolores, will you bring in a ... What do you want, George? What kind of soda pop?"
"7-Up, will do, if you have it. Otherwise, whatever is cold. None of that ‘diet’ stuff, though."
"A regular 7-Up, Dolores. Thanks." George said into the intercom.
"I hate to tell you this, George, but you are dating yourself with that 'soda pop' bit. It's carbonated beverage in this day and age."
They were both chuckling when Dolores brought in the 7-Up. She was followed by a tall, lanky man.
"Thanks, Dolores,” Larry said as he handed George a 7-Up. Dolores nodded at Larry, smiled at George and left the room. Then Larry turned to George. “This is Jack."
The chief shook hands with Jack. Shaking hands with Jack was a little like trying to shake a wet noodle.
Jack handed a folder to Larry and left. He had not said so much as ‘hello, or ‘pleased to meet you.’
"Friendly type?" George said.
"No, Jack is just a wee bit shy. Also, he thinks records are to keep, not use. Don't worry about it. I get the same treatment every time I try to fish in his records for the information I need for my reports.
"Ah, here we are. Lloyd Daggett. You were right. He is a regular, very regular. He must be some specimen. There doesn't seem to be anything that is too hard for him. He does it all. Shovels coal, grain, dirt, digs ditches. He must be a good worker. He gets repeats. That's a clue here in this office on the quality of the man. The repeats tell a lot. He must work like the very devil."
"Any address or phone."
"No. That's not unusual, though. Many of our people are street people. They sleep in the flophouses, or in abandoned buildings. The lucky ones get into one or another of the charity places. All they have to do is be here when an employer comes for one man or for a crew."
"However, I can tell you where he has worked a lot. He may be working there now. Over at Golden's Gravel pit. Bernie Golden would know. Want me to give him a call?"
"No, thanks. I need to move around. I remember the place. Never met Bernie, but I know of him. Who doesn't?"
"Do I pay for this soda ... uh, this drink on the way out?"
"It's on the house. Sort of a bribe so you will come back sometime in the next five or six years."
"Thanks, Larry. I may be back sooner than you think. You know, flat tires and cops come in threes. You have been a big help. Remember, your files are confidential. I haven't been here, except as an old friend, just to talk about early retirement. Right?"
"Right,” Larry said as George walked out the door.
The chief turned his car carefully into the entrance to the gravel company. He drove slowly to where several other cars were parked, near a sign that said 'Office' and got out. He stood by his car and looked casually about the yard before going into the office.
"I'm looking for Bernie Golden." George said to man sitting at a desk.
"He's down the hall. Third door on the left. Just walk on in."
The man at the desk had not even asked him his name or the nature of his business. He hardly looked up. The third door was open. He walked in. A plump, balding man was slouched in a chair. He was on the phone, so the chief waited near the doorway until the man grunted loudly and hung up the phone.
"Whatcha want?"
"My name is George Morning. I'm doing a reference check, informal and off the record, for a friend. It's on a man who has worked here; he may be working here now."
"George Morning. Used to be a police chief named George Morning. That you?"
"Yes. But I'm retired now. I do a little investigative work on the side. Just routine, simple stuff."
"Heard you got cross-wise of some of the political stuffed shirts and got 'retired early.' That so?"
"That's what I heard, too. So, it must be so, since we both heard the same thing. Ancient history, now. I've heard some things about Bernie Golden over the years. Good things, mostly. Seems you like to put burrs under the saddles of some of those political types."
Golden roared. He got up quickly from his chair, considering his bulk, moved forward and shook the chief's hand vigorously.
"I'll bet you have heard that about Bernie Golden. I'll just bet you have, at that. Bernie Golden doesn't like politicians or stuffed shirts.
"Now, what can I do for you? Off the record, you say? I dunno about that. We'll see."
"A friend is thinking of having Lloyd Daggett do some weekend yard work and simple gardening. I understand he works for you as a laborer from time-to-time. Do you know of him, of his work and of anything else that would speak for the man or against him?"
"That's it? That's all you want to know? I thought it was something hush-hush."
"Well, it is. He's skittish. Secretive. Won't give an address or a phone number. My friend likes his work, but wants to be sure."
"Can't give you much. He has worked here. Does good work; when we need his type. Don't know anything beyond that. You can talk to Ralph, the yard foreman, if you want to. I doubt he knows anymore. We don't need references. If they work, they work. If they don't we get someone who will. He works."
Golden shook the chief's hand violently and went back to his desk. He was on the phone before the chief was out of the office.
"Where can I find, Ralph?" the chief asked the man in the front office.
"Out in the yard. Down that way." The man pointed vaguely and dropped his head back to his work.
The chief walked out of the office, shielded his eyes from the glare until they adjusted and walked toward a large building about a hundred feet from the office. A man came out of the building as the chief approached.
"Lookin' for someone?"
"Yes, I'm looking for Ralph. Bernie Golden said I might see him for a moment."
The man squinted and pursed his lips, as if trying to solve a deep riddle.
"Well, I'm Ralph, but I don't know why the law would want to talk to me."
"I'm not the law. Not any more. I've been retired for several years. This is just a private matter. Routine."
"I know you aren't chief anymore. Once a cop, always a cop, if you know what I mean."
"Yes, I guess I do. This is confidential. I want some information about Lloyd Daggett. Do you supervise him when he works here?"
"Ain't no one else who's foreman. Just me. What's he done?"
"Nothing. A friend wants to hire him to do yard work on the weekends. Lloyd didn't provide an address or a phone number. Just checking to see if he is honest."
"Can't speak to that. Don't know as we have his address or phone number, either. Comes to that, he probably doesn't have a phone. Most don't. Or an address. Likely he sleeps where he can, on a given night. Good worker, though. Wish he would shower more often and change clothes. But, he does work hard. Man can overlook the other, or stand back a ways."
"Shiftless brother-in-law, Calvin Connelly, I think that's his name. Lloyd brought him along once. Loafed most of the morning; I let him go at noon. Figured we'd lose Lloyd, too. He understood, though. Said he would have fired him by ten o'clock. Guess you could call that honest. I think the brother-in-law and Lloyd's sister drink. He has mentioned it, or I wouldn't. Seems he gives them money. Keeps him broke. That sounds honest – but dumb – to me, to waste money on booze for someone else. Lloyd ain't what you would call smart; he ain't educated. But, he ain't dumb either. He has a good head. He thinks about his work. Good mechanic, too, when you edge him into working on something. Says he hates machines. Me? I don't believe him. I think he wishes he was trained to work with machines. That's all I know."
"I would appreciate it if you wouldn't tell Lloyd I was here. Just a routine check. Seems like he will be okay as a weekend gardener, after all. I think I understand now about the address and phone business. Here. You have been most helpful."
The chief handed Ralph a ten spot. Ralph gave a mock salute and headed back into the large building. "Long as it's just weekends, so we don't lose him here, when we need him," he added as he disappeared back into the large building.
"Hi, Dad. How's your police work coming along? Find out anything dangerous about my weekend gardener?"
"Hi, Sweetie. No, nothing bad yet. In fact, what little I have turned up seems okay. Maybe more than just okay."
"That's good. I'm glad to hear it; but I'm not really surprised. Strays usually are harmless, even those you pick up in large, fancy department stores."
"I'm not done yet, Sweetie. I still have a little more to do; so don't think you are completely off the hook for picking up this particular stray."
"Dad, are those boxes of clothes Mom used to keep around the house still stored in the attic? You know, the clothes we outgrew as kids but didn't quite wear out; the ones she never could bring herself to pass on to the Salvation Army or to the Thrift Shop?"
"Yes. They are still up there. I haven't bothered with them since she passed away. I figure to go through that stuff some day, but I just don't seem to get to it. Why do you ask?"
"Well, my gardener could surely use some clothes. His are ragged and dirty. And, they smell awful. Dick was about his size when he was in high school. The way fads came and went he never would wear anything out. Mom just packed most of it away, eventually. Some of it must be up in those boxes. Still good. Still serviceable, though not in style."
"I don't know, Sweetie. Technically they are Richard's things. I'm not sure ... "
"Come on, Dad. None of those would even begin to fit Dick, now. He weighs thirty pounds too much. You know that as well as I do."
"It's not that. They have sentimental value. For me, I mean. They were important to your mother. That's why I haven't done anything to the attic. That was her attic. She loved those things. She treasured the memories and all. She told me she used to go up there and sort through them, reminisce, cry a little 'cause you kids were grown and away."
"I'm only talking about a few things, Dad. I understand how you feel, but I don't think she would mind, now. You know how practical she was about most things. I wouldn't take any of the important things like Dick's letter jacket or his prom suit. None of that. Just a pair of pants or two and a shirt or two. Practical stuff. Things my gardener could work in. There are some things like that up there. I know there are."
"Well, Richard would have to know. To approve. In fact, he should be there. Just in case he cares about those things more than you think he might."
"Look, Dad, I'll come over. We can call Dick from over there. Then, if he gives the go ahead, we can call him and describe the clothes I have selected. That way, you will know that he approves. You can be on the main phone and I'll be on the extension. Okay? It might be months before he comes to town, you know that. Waiting for him to be here is just stalling."
"Sure, Sweetie. When do you want to do it? One thing, you have to promise to cook me a meal while you're there; and I even want you to help me with a couple of things around the house."
"Sure, Dad. It's a bargain. Friday night? I'll call Dick and set it up with him, so he will be there when we call."
"No need for you to do that, Sweetie. I have to call him on another matter anyhow; I'll set it up with him. If he can't do it then, we can schedule another time."
"Let me know, if it is all right with Dick."
"I will, Josselyn. I will."
"'Bye, Dad.""'Bye, Sweetie."
"Come in, Sweetie, come in. It's good to see you. I was beginning to think that you had forgotten that you promised to fix dinner for me tonight as part of the bargain."
"Sorry, Dad. Things got hectic at the store at the last minute. Naturally, as one of the 'bosses' I had to stick around until the calm returned. That's what we 'bosses' are paid for."
"Sure. Sure. No matter. I started without you. I figured you could put the finishing touches to it . . . offset any of my bungling with your magic touch."
"I'll get right at it. What time are we supposed to call Dick?"
"All taken care of. He called a few minutes ago and said he had something come up. He said we could take any of his old clothes that both of us decided he wouldn't want. He placed his complete trust in us. He did mention the letter jacket and the letter sweater, but that was it. I told him you just wanted a couple of shirts and trousers to wrap a stray in."
"Did Dick say if that 'something' was his latest fling? I didn't think we would get him to cancel Friday night, just so he could veto what we would want from those things in the attic."
"Well, I had to be sure. I still don't like it. But, I know you. You won't let up 'til you get something from up there. Comes to that, maybe I should just take this guy to Penney's and buy him some new stuff. He must be pretty gamey; even his foreman mentioned it."
"His foreman? I didn't know he had a regular job. I thought he just got work as he could."
"It's not what you would call a regular job. Not everyday. Not on a salary or anything like that. But, he does work for a sand and gravel outfit when they need someone. They like his work. The foreman seemed to like him."
"In fact, everything I have found out so far suggests that he is a hard worker and dependable, too. Helps his sister and a do-little brother-in-law. The brother-in-law doesn't work much and both he and Daggett's sister drink. No wonder he needs money. None of the work he does earns him much money. I think a lot of what he does earn goes to them. Maybe he isn't too bright. He doesn't have any education to speak of, that I know for sure."
"Education isn't everything, Dad. And, not everyone who is poorly educated is retarded, you know that. Some of the slickest crooks had very little schooling. Even some that outsmarted the 'world's greatest,' eh, Dad?"
"Smart alecky, kid. I can still box your ears. Yeah, even some of the brightest crooks didn't learn what they knew in school. Leastways not in public school."
"Point made, Dad? Give the man a chance."
"Point given, Sweetie. Let's eat and then see what we can find up in the attic for your latest stray.”
Josh met Lloyd as he arrived at her garage on Sunday morning. "Hi, Mr. Daggett. I have everything all ready for you. Here are the rubbish barrels. The mower has gas in it and the extension cord for the trimmer is over there. Here are some gloves for you to use, when you get to the weeding."
"Name's Lloyd. Ain't fittin' for the boss to call me Mr. Daggett."
"Good. You can call me Josh; that's sort of short for Josselyn."
"Sounds like a man's name. Colored at that. Miz Morning suits me fine, since you are the boss."
"I'll be in the house if you need me, and we'll have some iced tea on the patio in about an hour." Josh turned quickly and went in the house before he could refuse the offer of the tea, wondering why the man was so difficult and so aloof.
"Don't go in. I got somethin' to say."
Josh wheeled and walked back toward him. He had his head down and was shuffling his feet, as if he might find his words on the ground.
"Heard someone was around asking questions about me. Something about references. A cop who used to be the chief of police. Figured I wouldn't come at all today. I don't cotton to cops. I got nothing against them; I just don't like a fuss. Cops are mostly trouble to us poor folks. Hassle us. 'Rrest us. I got no money for lawyers or bail, you understand. I'm honest. I work hard for what I earn. I don't cause no one no trouble.
"So, I thought I wouldn't come today. Ralph said I should. Said it only made sense for a woman to check out someone like me. Someone she didn't know. Good sense.
"Well, I thought it over. I need the money. But I don't need cops 'round my work. I might get fired. Me, I'm honest. You got nothin' to fear. I don't steal and I don't run with punks that do. So, that's that. You trust me and I'll work for you. I need the money. You want to know somethin', you ask me. No more cops, especially not big-time cops, former chiefs-of-police.
"Agreed?" Lloyd was still looking down and shuffling during most of the speech. But, he looked up as he asked the question.
"Agreed, Lloyd. Actually, he's not a cop. Not any more. He's been retired for some time. And, I didn't really hire him. He did it on his own. I asked him not to; he insisted. You see, he is my father. That's why he did it, Lloyd. Just a father looking after his daughter."
"Your pa?""Yes, my Pa. It hasn't always been easy, being a cop's daughter. It freaked out some of my friends, especially boys I went with. Some left and never came back, as soon as they found out."
"He's not a bad sort, Lloyd. Not at all. And, he found out some good things about you . . . about how hard you work. About how the foreman at the sand and gravel company likes your work. He is right; I should have asked for references. But, you seemed honest and hardworking and dependable. I went on trust. On trusting my instincts."
"Humans got no instincts. I saw that on TV. Don't know how you thought you could tell. Lord knows I don't look like much. Torn clothes, torn shoes, dirty hands ... I ain’t figured out yet why you asked me to work. 'Ppreciate it, since I need the work.
"Well, I best git at the lawn. Ain't got all day. Got things to do, later. Got to hurry, since we took all this time talkin'."
He turned and quickly wheeled the mower out of the garage. He went to work without looking at her.
She stood for a minute before she turned and went into the house.
She kept watch out the window until he finished mowing the lawn. She carried the tray with the iced tea things out to the patio table as he was getting the trimmer out of the garage.
He came around toward the patio with the trimmer, seeming to know that the iced tea would be ready and that it was time for a break from his work.
"Can you spare a few minutes for some iced tea, Lloyd? As hot as it is, I expect your body needs the liquid. Sit here in the shade."
He sat down and took the glass without comment.
"Sugar?""No, mam, just the tea."
"Have you lived here long, Lloyd?"
He looked up quickly at the question, and down just as quickly.
"Several years, I guess. I don't pay much 'ttention to time. Too busy workin' to know what time does or what time it is. Maybe twelve, fifteen years. Seems longer, yet not so long."
"I know what you mean. I have been at the store for five years. Sometimes it seems like I just started yesterday. Other days it seems like I have been there forever and still have an eternity to go."
"What's your job at the store? You a clerk?"
"Actually, no. I just happened to be at the counter the day you came in. I work in the . . . I'm one of the buyers for the store."
"Buyer. You buy the store?"
"You know. The merchandise. As we sell things, we have to get new merchandise in. We have to order ahead, so we will have summer things in the spring and winter things in the early fall. We are sort of like planners . . . we try to order what people will buy. What our instincts tell us people will like."
He looked up quickly at the word instinct, but didn't say anything.
"Well, not really instincts, then. What our best judgment suggests people will buy. Which fashions, or colors, or items will be in style. You know what I mean?"
"Reckon I don't. But, if you say so, it must be so.
"Ain't never thought much about stores. Not fancy stores like that place where you work, for sure. Too fancy for me. Food is about all I buy. 'Bout all I can afford."
He finished his drink and got up to go back to work.
"Lloyd. Wait another minute. Will you sit? I have something to ask you."
He stood as if reluctant to obey, or not, but he did not sit.
"I have a pair of pants, a shirt, and a pair of shoes. They belonged to my brother. He can't wear them. He has outgrown them. He is too . . . heavy. I think they might fit you. Pretty close, anyhow. Will you think about taking them with you when you have finished."
"Ain't no charity case, Miz Morning. My clothes ain't much, I know. But, they's bought and paid for." He started to walk away to finish his work.
"I'm not offering charity. Your work is so good. The yard looks better than it ever has. You deserve a bonus. I thought the clothes and shoes would make a nice bonus."
"Thirty bucks is too much pay for this little bit of work. Bonus, you say. I did get a bonus a few times 'cause I work hard. Sometimes the bosses were pleased and said so. Sometimes, not often mind you, I got bonuses. That was when I was bein' under- paid to begin with. Bein' overpaid and gittin' a bonus to boot don't seem right. I gotta think on it. I'll let you know."
She gathered up the iced tea things on a tray and hurried inside. She heard the whirring of the trimmer as she put the dirty dishes to soak. Maybe, just maybe she was making a little progress.
Her brow furrowed. “Progress toward what?” she wondered.
Lloyd rang the doorbell, looking troubled, as he waited for Miz Morning to open the door. After some delay, she opened the door.
"All done, Miz Morning."
"Gee, that was quick, Lloyd. Won't you come in while I get the money for you?"
"No, mam, I'll just wait out here for you."
Josh turned as if to go for the money. Then, she turned back to face the man standing in the door.
"Oh, Lloyd, did you think over the bonus offer while you were finishing the rest of the lawn?"
"Yes, mam, I did. I figure you want me to look nicer, more ‘sentable, when I come to work on your lawn. Sort'a so I'll fit into the neighborhood a little better than I do with these here real dirty work clothes on. I reckon’ I can understand that. I did a little extra work on the flowerbeds. Some things I picked up on from that guy at work. Should help the flowers some."
"That was nice of you, Lloyd. So you will take the clothes." She fairly beamed.
"Yes, mam, but I'll keep 'em nice, so as when I come here I won't be lookin' a disgrace."
"It wasn't that, really it wasn't. I just thought we could put the clothes to use. Dick will never use them. He's too f . . . uh, heavy. They won't fit him. You have earned a bonus, even without the extra work you did in the flowerbeds. I really believe you have.
"Besides, as hard as you work, you deserve to have some nicer things for yourself, once in a while. Don't you agree?"
"No, mam. Not unless I earn 'em, that is. A man has to live by what he earns. Man tries otherwise, it only leads to trouble. To feelin' uppity, like as not. I don't cotton to lookin' nice in clothes I ain't earned."
"That's an admirable value to have, Lloyd. And, it sure holds true in this case. You have earned these; you have earned them to wear whenever and wherever you choose."
She handed him the small bundle of clothes and the thirty dollars.
He took the bundle and the money, with his eyes downcast, turned and began to leave.
"I'll see you next Sunday," he said as he walked down the walk.
"Okay, next Sunday it is. I'll look forward to it. Have a good week. The yard sure looks nice. Doctor Meldrum, my neighbor, is jealous. He's confined to a wheelchair. He has trouble getting someone reliable to do his lawn. You might think about talking to him, if you think you would have time to do his. I could introduce you and give a reference."
Lloyd stopped and turned. He was almost to the corner of the house.
"Does his lawn need work today? I got some things to do but they could wait a bit. That is, if he really needs somethin’ done today. I could use some more money, that's a fact."
"Yes, his yard needs a good mowing and trimming. He doesn't have any flowers because he hasn't had anyone he could depend on to keep up the flowerbeds. But, he does pay thirty dollars, too. At least, that's what he said."
"You folks up here sure are free and easy with your money. Thirty dollars. That's a heap for doin' a yard." He had returned to the porch where she was standing.
"Put your bundle here just inside the door. Let's go over and see Dr. Meldrum. He will be pleased that you have the time to do his lawn. It has gone several days too long, so it will be a little more work this time than it will be in the future."
"If you ever had several days to work here, he would really like to have some flowerbeds. He knows a great deal about flowers. If you didn't mind, he could show you what he wants and how to do it. You know, sort of supervise . . . uh, guide you."
"Ain't got no steady job, just now. Things is slow; mighty slow. 'Bout as bad as I have seen it. That's why I'd be willing to do it, even today. The other things I normally do on Sunday, they can wait.
"We'll see about the flower beds. I ain't ever worked for no one in a wheelchair before. Or when someone was right there tellin' me what to do all the time. I ain't crazy 'bout that, I can tell you."
"I understand. No need to decide on the flowers until you have talked with him about the lawn. You don't even need to say I mentioned the flowerbeds; that is, until you feel comfortable doing so."
They walked to the back of the house next door, up a wheelchair ramp and Josh knocked at the back door.
"Come in. Come in."
"Oh, Josh, it's you. How good to see you. And, you must be Mr. Daggett." The Doctor wheeled adeptly forward as he spoke. He stopped the wheelchair near the two and extended a hand to Lloyd.
Lloyd held the hand lightly and briefly, as if he might damage it or catch some horrible disease; then let the Dr’s. hand go. He mumbled a 'hello.'
"Eric Meldrum is my name, Mr. Daggett. I have a great need for a reliable man to do yard work. Josh and I hoped you might be able to do two lawns while you are up here each week. Any prospect of that?"
"I need the work, and that's a fact. Guess I could try it. See how it goes, for now. I like to try things first, without strings bein' ‘tached, so to speak."
"Fine by me. You set the rules. You do the work. I have been paying thirty dollars for mowing and trimming. There would be more if you want to do more than that. But, we can ease into that as you see fit, Mr. Daggett."
"Name's Lloyd, sir . . . doctor. If I work for you, I'm Lloyd."
"Fair enough. Say, Josh, I’d like a little snack. Why don't you fix Lloyd and me a sandwich, one for you, too, of course, while Lloyd and I go out and discuss man's work."
Lloyd glanced quickly at Miz Morning to see how she would take the order.
"Are you sure I can eat, too, Eric, or do you mean that I can eat my sandwich in the kitchen while you two eat yours out on the patio?"
"What do you say, Lloyd, shall we let the lady eat on the patio with us; or do we condemn her to the kitchen, to the woman's rightful place?"
Lloyd looked puzzled. He started to say something. Stopped. Finally, he sort of shrugged.
"Just kidding her, Lloyd. Josh and I kid a lot. In fact, I joke with most folks a lot. That is, if I don't think they will take it seriously; object to my jokes and humor, that is. Also, that's why I call her Josh instead of Josselyn, like nearly everyone else does, because I 'josh' her a lot."
"How about you, Lloyd, can you take joke now and then, or should I always be serious?"
"Fellers at work kid me a lot. I guess it's okay. They joke about my clothes and my shoes. They're all I got. 'Til today that is." Lloyd suddenly seemed to remember the bundle of clothes, which he had left at Miz Morning's.
"Looks to me like you have worked hard in those clothes and in those shoes. That's what they show me. I see a lot of hard, honest, dependable work. No joke there, I suspect, at least not by me. I like a man who works hard, one who works with his hands. Maybe that's because I can't do that sort of thing, not anymore."
"No matter, Lloyd. Let's go out and see if the job and the wages will suit you. Meanwhile Josh will scare up a lunch for us and we can eat out on the patio; whether you take the job or not, we eat. Man has to eat, especially a working man."
Eric wheeled past Lloyd, through the screen door, and out on the porch. Lloyd followed somewhat hesitantly. He glanced back at Miz Morning but she was already opening the refrigerator door and reaching inside. She seemed to know what was there and what she wanted. He frowned and went out.
Eric wheeled into the double garage. The garage was neatly arranged. He showed Lloyd where the mower, trimmer, and rubbish barrels were. All were along one wall. On the other side of the garage was a shiny, late-model car. Lloyd looked at the car, then quickly away.
They went out in the front yard, around the far side of the house and into the back yard with Dr. Meldrum explaining as they went. Josselyn was sitting at a large picnic table on the covered patio. The table was set for three and generous meal was laid out.
"Well, that is it, Lloyd," Eric concluded. "What do you think? Can you take my lawn on as one of your clients?"
"Reckon so. Looks about the same as Miz Morning's. Maybe not even as much work, what with no flowerbeds. Thirty dollars is too much to ask to do it. Other than that, it's okay."
"Thirty bucks is the going rate around here. You may be right, it may be too much, but what isn't these days? Food, clothes, even a trip to the movies. They all cost more than they should. So, since they all cost so much, I pay thirty dollars. Most everyone on the block does, too. It's high, but fair."
"You say so, Dr. Meldrum, it must be so. Me? I can't git used to high wages. Never could. Guess that's why I don't git paid much and don't git ahead. Seems like cheatin' to me, all those high prices and high wages. Seems just like cheatin'."
"Not really, Lloyd. It's inflation. Inflation has its good points and its bad points. Me? I'm old-fashioned and pretty conservative. So, I agree with you that both wages and prices are too high. On the other hand, it makes most people feel good to have a lot of dollars passing through their hands. Makes them feel rich, like they amount to something. That's one of the good aspects. Anything that builds self-respect isn't all bad, Lloyd. Building self-respect is sort of my business, Lloyd. I like to see self-respect go up, don't you?"
"Don't know nothin' about that. Never understood things like that. Ain't had 'nuff schoolin' to understand about stuff like that."
"Oh, nobody really understands inflation. I talk about it but that doesn't mean I understand it. Self-respect is another matter. That I do understand because it is my business."
"I ain't never heard of a self-respect doctor. Guess I'm too ignorant."
"Really? I'm a psychiatrist, Lloyd. A head doctor. It isn't all self-respect, but a lot of it is. You have it whether you know about it or not. You work hard. That takes some self-respect. Quite a bit, in fact. You are honest, more than honest about wages. That takes a heap of self-respect. That's what it is, Lloyd, a lot of things like working hard, being honest, being dependable and staying off welfare. Helping others. Giving others money when you don't have enough for yourself."
"Never thought of it that way, 'xactly." Lloyd looked thoughtfully down at the ground. Then, he looked quickly at Miz Morning, as the two men approached the patio table.
"The snack is ready, you two. Come and get it before the maid eats is all or throws it over the fence for the neighbor's dog."
"Looks good, Josh. You certainly have a way with my refrigerator. I can look in that thing all day long and not see anything that I really want to eat. You come over and ‘presto,’ a feast."
"Lloyd, you sit across from Josh. I'll just wheel up here to the end of the table. Good. Let's eat."
The plates were large. Actually they were large, compartmented trays, much like cafeteria trays. Generous servings of baked beans, cole slaw, cut vegetables, and pie filled the compartments. Josh passed a plate of large sandwiches to Lloyd, who took one and handed the plate to Eric.
Lloyd began to eat slowly and self-consciously. He seemed to draw inside himself with the closeness of the situation, unsure of what to say, or how to eat, or where to look. Mostly, he looked down at his plate.
After lunch, Lloyd quickly went to work on the lawn. He went through the routine without question, supervision, or apparent doubt.
Josh cleaned up the luncheon things from the patio and then returned to her house, still puzzled by the change that had descended on Lloyd. She mentioned it to the doctor before leaving for her house.
"I think he has something really important to ask me, to talk about, when he finishes the lawn," is all Eric said to her.
"Whatever it is, he clearly wants us to be alone, when – if – he brings it up. I'm as curious as you. But that does not mean I can tell you afterwards what it was, Josh. It may come under doctor-patient confidences."
This did not satisfy Josh, even though she knew Eric was probably right. It might be something very confidential.
"It had to be important to upset Lloyd so," she reasoned to herself. Still, she was curious, very curious.
Lloyd rang the front doorbell and waited until he heard Eric call out.
"It's unlocked. Come on in."
Lloyd hesitated a moment before he opened the door and walked into the entry hall.
"I'm back here in my consulting room. That you, Lloyd?"
"Yes, sir . . . Dr Meldrum. It's me. I'm all done with the lawn, I think. Thought you would want to ‘spect it before we have that talk."
"Come on back. Third door on your left. We can talk back here. This is where I meet my clients, listen to their troubles and help them, if I can. Come on back."
Lloyd walked into the room and stood awkwardly in the doorway.
"I'm ... me, I'm just a dumb moron. I don't know nothin' 'bout anythin'. I cain't even say what I feel I gotta try and say. 'Cept I'm miserable. When you said you was a head doctor, a psycha'trist, I knowed it was time for me to try and git some help. I'm miserable. Sick, I guess. Since I met her ... Miz Morning, I bin thinkin' jes' how worthless and miserable I am. Always was, I reckon."
"I 'spose I'm too ignorant and too poor for a 'portant head doctor like you to help me. I ain't got no money. Not much that is, but I could do your lawn, and put in your flowers, and pay you a few bucks now and then. Doctor, I'm jes a poor, miserable moron, but I need your help."
Eric had said nothing. He had not moved. He had made no visible sign that he heard, or understood, or cared about Lloyd, or his plea for help. He waited.
Lloyd sobbed and turned to go.
"Well, that's what I thought. But, I had to give it a try. Jes’ in case you might be willin' to try to help a no 'count moron. I should'a knowed better."
"Hold it right there." Eric's voice was deep and full. It bore the mark of a man who would be obeyed.
"Sure, you are ignorant and poor. But, I am the doctor. I decide who I treat and who I don't. Just you come back in here and listen. I'll do the doctoring and you do as much as you can to get well. Just that, and no more. Just what you can.
"Now, you said you wanted to talk. Well, you do the talking and I'll do the listening, because listening is part of the doctoring. First, you sit down in that chair. Then, you tell me what's on your mind and why you are miserable.
"That isn't too much to ask, even from someone like you who happens to think that he is a moron, is it? Tell me just what you want to and not a bit more. You decide what you want me hear and when. I'll decide what doctoring to do, how and when. That's fair, isn't it?"
Lloyd walked to the large chair the doctor had pointed to and sat down, heavily. The doctor looked sternly at him. Lloyd began to sob.
"I ain't never had nothin'. No reg'lar family. No reg'lar schoolin', leastwise none to speak of. Ain't never done nothin' but work in the fields when I was a kid, 'til I ran away to here. Then, my Mom and Sis followed me out here. Later, Sis got married." The sobbing returned.
"Weren't no better here. I work hard. I'm honest. But I'm jes' a poor ignorant moron. I never git a dollar ahead, seems. In fact, now that times are gittin' hard, I can't even find reg'lar work. Mom died some years ago. My Sis and her no 'count husband, they both drink. 'Sides that, he don't work reg'lar, what with his bein' lazy and drinkin' too much. So, most o' my money goes to help Sis. I cain't git ahead and they don't want to.
"I ain't worth nothin' and I 'spect I never will be. But, I'd like to be somethin' 'sides a moron, I really would. Seems like even a moron deserves somethin' more'n jes' hard work an no future."
Lloyd paused. He looked quickly at Eric, who had not moved or reacted visibly to Lloyd's sobbing or to the story.
Lloyd put his hands on the arms of the chair as if to rise.
"Now you stay right there. Like I said, I'll do the doctoring and you do the talking. I ain't done listening to you, yet. So, don't think you can start out and then just get up and leave anytime you want to. Once we start, we finish. We have started; so we have to finish. You do the talking, but you only tell me as much as you want to, not one bit more. You talk. I'll listen. You want help. I'll help. But, if you want help, you got to talk. Later, I'll talk. Plenty. You'll listen. That's how I do the doctoring. That's how you get as well as you can. You talk; I listen. I talk; you listen."
"Fair enough, Lloyd?" For the first time, Eric lowered his voice a little and seemed genuinely concerned.
"I guess that's fair. Like I say, I ain't got no money, to speak of. But I kin work hard, on your lawn, and I kin do them flowerbeds Miz Morning talked about you wantin'. I kin darn shure work hard, and that's a fact. 'Course, when I kin git other work, I want you to understand that I need to do that work, too. So, maybe I couldn't always be here, jes' ‘xactly when you wanted. But I’ll work evenin’s, if I have too; both days on the weekends, too."
"I'll tell you when I want money and how much I want. You let me worry about that. You, you will have more than enough to think about while you and me are getting you well. Yes, I said you and me. It will darn sure take both of us to get you well. You do your part and I'll do mine. Part of mine will be to tell you when I want money and how much.
"Understood, Lloyd?"
"Yea, I reckon I understand. Leastwise about the money part. I shure don't know nothin' 'bout gittin' well, though. A moron ain't 'posed to know nothin' 'bout that, I guess."
“Now,” Eric said emphatically, “you tell me about this moron thing. I want to know why you think you are a moron.”
“Well, . . . it’s like . . . I must be a moron. When I was in the Army, they made me a yardbird. That there company commander, he said I was too ignorant to do anythin’ ‘cept maybe yardbird work. He wondered how I ever got in the Army.”
“Company commander, eh, did he ever give you a test to see if you were a moron, or not?”
“Test? Yes, sir, ‘they’ was tests when I first went in the Army. They almost didn’t take me. Still don’t know why they did; then just make me a yardbird.”
“What does a yardbird do? What did you do while you were in the Army?”
“Nothin’ much. I jes’ sorta hung ‘round. Did errands for the company clerk, the first sergeant and the company commander. Whatever they told me to do.”
“Did you get into any trouble? Were there things you couldn’t do, when they asked you to do them?”
“Some things, I guess. Sometimes I would ask ‘round. Couple of the other soldiers were nice to me. They ‘splained things. Helped me. Most of the others made fun of me, played jokes on me, told me things that weren’t so. Tried to git me into trouble.”
“Did you stay out of trouble . . . in the Army, I mean?”
“Yes, sir, I did. I did my time. Then, there was some sort of cutback. They let me out early. Didn’t need no yardbird in an Army with cutbacks, the sergeant said.”
“Did you come back here after the Army?”
“Yes, sir, I did. Bin workin’ here ever since. Don’t look like I’m ever gonna git anywhere. Hard work, not much pay and what with my Sis and all . . . “ Lloyd’s voice trailed away.
“Humph! Moron or not, you seem to get by better than some I know. Some with lots of brains. Even someone who only thinks he is a moron can learn a lot of useful things. Like yard work. Like driving a car . . . lots of things.”
Lloyd looked up startled when Eric mentioned driving a car.
“No!” Lloyd protested loudly. “No one as dumb as me could ever learn sumthin’ as hard as that. Driving? No . . . (sadly) . . . No.”
“Balderdash!” Eric said emphatically. “Lots of morons drive. That’s one reason I don’t drive, anymore. Too many damn fools racing around like they are trying to kill themselves and anyone that gets in their way.”
“I mostly walk. Even that’s dangerous. I nearly got kilt several times.” Lloyd offered.
“There. You see. You could drive better, more carefully, than those damn fools. You take my word for it.”
“But, enough of that,” Eric said. “I want you to tell me more about yourself. Tell me why you think you are sick. You mentioned that several times.”
“Have to be sick. Otherwise I would git ahead. Be able to earn more money. Save some for . . . for schoolin’ . . . for better clothes . . . for . . . what did Miz Morning say?
. . . for a movie . . . for goin’ places.”
“So, you and Miz Morning talked about the movies. Tell me how that came about.”
“Well, you see, she offered me these clothes. They’re from . . . somebody in her family.”
“Yeah,” Eric intruded, “they’re from her brother, Dick. He’s gotten so fat he couldn’t wear them on a bet. Besides, they are clothes he wore a long time ago. Just the thing for you. Just the thing. I’m sure glad you are going to take them.”
“Oh, you knew ‘bout ‘em?”
Eric was surprised by the directness of Lloyd’s question. He paused.
“Sure, I knew about them. Josh mentioned them to me when I was telling her how great her lawn looked and when I was asking her if she thought you would be willing to do my lawn as well, as long as you were coming all this way to do hers.”
“Oh.”“Look, Lloyd, this getting well is going to take some time, possibly a long time. We’ve made some progress today, quite a bit of progress actually.”
“I’m going to talk to you now. You can accept what I say and do what I say, or not. It will be up to you. To help you listen, I am going to ask you to relax, fully. Then, I am going to say some things, many things that may seem strange to you. Don’t do any more than you can, as you can. Listen carefully. Don’t try to talk. Just listen. When I am done talking, that will be it for today. You will have lots to think about.
“Since you aren’t working, I would like for you to come tomorrow and work all day. Most of the day, you will working outside. Digging up some old flowerbeds. Easy things. Good, hard, honest work. Part of the day, we will be working – you and me together – at getting you well.
“Listen carefully. Even morons, and even people like you, can listen carefully. In fact, I’ll bet you are very good at listening. Seems to me that you have always been good at it. My voice will go with you. From today forward, my voice will always be with you. Many of the things I say, you will not remember – some never – and some only a long time after I have said them.
“For example, your eyes are growing very tired. You are very tired. You can hardly keep your eyes open, especially as you listen to my voice. Very tired. Eyelids very heavy. Listen to my every word. Keep what I say in your mind. Keep my voice with you, today, tomorrow . . . always.”
Lloyd seemed to go to sleep. He slumped in his chair. His head rested on his chest. He went quickly and deeply into a hypnotic trance.
Eric talked on for some time. He talked about the dignity of hard work. He talked about the honesty of hard work. He talked about how important hard work was to those who did it and to everyone who benefited from the labor of those who worked hard. He mentioned farmers, he mentioned miners and he mentioned those who worked on yards.
After he talked for about a half-hour, Eric asked Lloyd to wake up. Slowly but surely, Lloyd came out of his trance. He seemed puzzled.
“I . . . I’m sorry I jes’ couldn’t seem to listen, like you told me. I guess . . . I think I went to sleep.”
“Hah! Think nothing of it. You did just what I wanted. You listened very well. Later, some of the things I said will come back to you. Always my words will be in your mind, helping you get well, helping you to understand yourself, helping you to decide what you can and can not do to get well.
“Don’t worry, Lloyd, everything went well. Extremely well. Will I see you in the morning?”
“Yes, sir, I guess you will. What time?”
“Eight will do fine. By the way, I pay $7.50 an hour for the flower garden work. Is that okay.”
“Seven fifty. That’s too much. Why, I only git ‘bout five dollars an hour for most of the work I do. That’s all I ever seem to git. It’s all mos’ people wanna pay a dummy like me.”
“Well, the reason I pay $7.50 is because you will be working and learning . . . doing double duty, so to speak. That’s why I pay more. Besides, if I don’t pay you a decent wage, how are you going to pay me for all of that getting well you have to do?
“See you in the morning, Lloyd.
“Oh, Lloyd, don’t forget to stop by Josh’s and pick up those clothes.”
“Yes, sir, I won’t forget. Thank you.”
Lloyd held his head down and shuffled along. He was deep in thought with the bundle of clothes from the Mornings tucked under his left arm. A police cruiser pulled up and stopped. Two officers got out and one of them hailed Lloyd
“Hey you, you with the bundle. Stop right where you are.”
Lloyd turned. A look of surprise on his face. He nearly dropped the bundle.
The two officers converged on Lloyd. One walked up to Lloyd and tapped the bundle. The other hanged back a few steps and moved around behind Lloyd.
“Wha’cha got in this package?” the officer says as he continues to tap the bundle. I’m Officer Shoen. This is my partner, Officer Daley. This is our territory.”
“Uh, jes some old clothes. Miz Morning gave them to me as a bonus for some yard work I did fer her.”
“Miss Morning, did you say? Would that be Miss Josselyn Morning, the daughter of the former Chief of Police?”
“Yes, sir, that’s her. I’m takin’ care of her lawn. Dr. Meldrum’s too.”
“Yeah, we saw you up there mowing and grubbing. You look suspicious to us, don’t he, Fred?”
“Not to me,” Fred answers. “That bundle looks like just what he said it was. Come on, Matt, we have to get down to headquarters.”
“Not so fast, Fred.” Matt answered. “Looks like we got us a bum here.”
Lloyd looks from one officer to the other. He is confused and completely out of his element.
Matt continues. As he does so, he thumps Lloyd on the chest. “Me? I say we take him with us down to headquarters and book him. You sure don’t belong here, not here in this nice neighborhood, do you, you bum? Let’s see some ID.”
Lloyd looks down at his feet. “I . . . I ain’t got no ID. Not on me, leastwise. Don’t drive and my Army discharge papers and my birth certificate are at my Sis’s place.”
“Ah, hah! No ID. I would have bet on it. Now that’s what I call reason enough to take you in, feller. Bums don’t have ID. You don’t. That makes you a bum, in my book.”
Fred steps between the two. “Come on, Matt, Don’t make a federal case out of it. We saw him working up at Miss Morning’s place and at the place next door. Let’s go.”
“Not on your life. Where do you live, bum?”
“Ain’t got no real address-like. I stay at my Sis’s some. Sleep out some in good weather.”
“Ah, hah! See, Fred, what we have here is a bum. A street person. No ID. No address. He might be one of those illegal aliens. Maybe he escaped from a mental institution. Maybe he’s dangerous. We need to find out more about him.”
Fred turns in disgust. “For God’s sake, Matt, leave him alone. Be reasonable for once. I’m reporting in. Headquarters is probably wondering why we aren’t down there or why we haven’t checked in.”
With that Fred stomps off toward the cruiser. He gets in and uses the radio.
“Get in the car, bum. I’m going to give you a ride downtown.” With that Matt grabs Lloyd, steers him to the cruiser and shoves him into the back seat. Fred shrugs his shoulders but does not say anything.
Matt gets in on the driver’s side. Looks around at Lloyd and peals rubber. Matt turns on the flashing lights. A few blocks later, the cruiser pulls into the headquarters parking lot. Both officers get out. Fred walks around and opens the door for Lloyd.
“Here, you, whatever your name is, take your clothes and your smell and get out of here.” He hands Lloyd the bundle of clothes and give him a gentle push toward the street.
Lloyd starts toward the street.
Matt yells, “Not so fast, garbage. I got something to say to you. You stay away from places you don’t belong. You stay away from Miss Morning’s and from that neighborhood. Got it? We find you up there and it will be the slammer for you. Understand?”
With that Matt turns and follows Fred toward the station’s back entrance.
Lloyd, dejected and confused, walks slowly away from the station. He looks back when he hears Matt’s loud laughter echoing back just as the two officers go into the station.
Later that afternoon, Lloyd walks up to a phone booth. He squints at piece of paper. He lays it on the shelf below the phone, puts some coins in the phone’s slot and dials a number. He waits.
“Dr. Meldrum, this is Lloyd Daggett.” Lloyd hesitates.
Dr. Meldrum: “Yes, Lloyd.”
“Reckon I won’t be comin’ up tomorrow to work on those flowerbeds.” He says and then listens for Dr. Meldrum’s reaction.
Dr. Meldrum: “That’s a real surprise, Lloyd. Why not?”
“Police officers stopped me. Said I don’t belong in that neighborhood. Said I was to say away from Miz Morning and you.”
Dr. Meldrum: “The police, you say. How did you happen to be talking to the police?”
“Two of them stopped me just after I left your block. One of them asked me a bunch of questions. He was real angry at me for bein’ where a bum like me don’t belong.”
Dr. Meldrum: “That’s nonsense, Lloyd. You and I both know that you belong here because you are working here. Who were these guys, anyhow?”
“Don’t know. They was in a police car. The angry one was Matt. He was the hardest on me. Wanted to ‘rrest me and put me in jail. The other one told him to leave me alone.”
Dr. Meldrum: “Ah! Good cop, bad cop. That old routine.”
“Don’t know nuthin’ ‘bout that. They took me down to headquarters. Then, the other cop, Fred, I think, he told me to take the bundle and get outa there, like he wanted all along.”
Dr. Meldrum: “Where are you calling from, Lloyd.”
“Jes’ from a public phone booth. Sorta near where my Sis lives.”
Dr. Meldrum: “Here’s what you do, Lloyd. You clean up some. Shave. Put on those clothes Josh gave you and you come up here tomorrow morning, just like you promised you would. I’ll take care of the problem with the officers. Will you do that?”
“I don’t know, Doctor Meldrum. I shore can’t ‘fford to go to jail. I shore don’t want no trouble with the cops. I told Miz Morning cops would ‘rrest a no good bum like me up in that fancy neighborhood. I told her that.”
Dr. Meldrum: “Lloyd, do you have any thing with your name and address on it? Any kind of ID?”
“Don’t have no address. But I got my discharge and my birth certificate at my Sis’s.”
Dr. Meldrum: “That will do just fine, Lloyd. Also, do you still have some of the money you earned today?”
“”Some of the money? I little, I guess. Gave most of it to Sis.”
Dr. Meldrum: “It doesn’t have to be more than a few dollars. Just to show that you are not a bum. You are a workingman, Lloyd. You work for us. You belong here. You can come and go like anyone else!”
“I don’t know, Doctor Meldrum. I shore want to keep working for you and for Miz Morning. And I darn shore want to git well, like we talked ‘bout today.”
Dr. Meldrum: “Good. That’s all that counts. You will get well. You do as I have just suggested and you can come up here. The police cannot arrest you, even if they stop you again. You have my word on that. You do believe me, don’t you, Lloyd?”
“I darn shore do believe you; that’s a plain fact. I’ll do what you say, even if it gits me in bad with those cops and even if it puts me in jail.”
Dr. Meldrum: “That’s the spirit, Lloyd. Jail, my eye! They bother you, they will have me and George Morning to deal with. Me and the Chief. We are totally on your side in this. Chief Morning and me, we are an awesome pair, Lloyd. You can depend on that.”
“You say so, Dr. Meldrum, it must be true. I’ll do my best to be there in the morning, ‘less the cops pick me up and put me in jail. One thing, are you shore I should wear them clothes what Miz Morning give me? I was plannin’ on jes wearin’ ‘em when I did Miz Morning’s work.”
Dr. Meldrum: “Yes, wear them. There are more where they came from. Don’t worry. You won’t go to jail. Or, if you do, Chief George Morning and Dr. Eric Meldrum will come down there, bail you out and give those cops the old what for!”
“Wow! I never did hear anyone talk ‘bout the cops like that. I ‘pposed no one could do nothin’ ‘gainst the cops.”
Dr. Meldrum: “Believe me, Lloyd, we can and will. See you in the morning, as you promised.”
“Yes, sir.”Lloyd hung up the phone. He stood in the booth for some time. As he walked out of the booth, his eyes were downcast. He was in deep thought. Then, he brightened up, smiled and walked faster.
Later, Lloyd walked down to a large river that runs just south of the main part of the city. Under his arm was the bundle of clothes. He had a small, brown paper sack. In the bag was a razor, a small mirror and one of the bars of the soap. Lloyd walked into a large growth of trees and brush. The heavy brush grows clear down to the stream, forming a small grotto. He striped and waded into the water, soap in hand. He bathed thoroughly, soaping himself and rinsing the soap off often. When he returned to the bank, he sat down and shaved while his body was getting dry.
Finally, he put on the clean underwear, shirt and pants. Then, he finished dressing by slipping on the socks and the shoes. The clothes are a ‘nearly perfect’ fit. He gathered up the bar of soap, his razor, the mirror and the filthy, old clothes.
When he emerged from the brush and marched up the riverbank, he was whistling softly.
After his phone conversation with Lloyd, Eric, looked at the phone for several minutes. He picked up the handset and dialed a number.
“George, this is Eric.”
George: “How are you doing, Eric?”
“Fine, George, just fine.”
George: “What sort of job did Lloyd do for you?”
“He did a good job, George. Just like I wanted. Better than in a long time. George, there is something funny going on. Lloyd got picked up by a couple of cops soon after he left here. One of them, Matt, gave him a hard time.”
George: “Matt?”
“Lloyd wasn’t all that sure. But, yeah, an officer named Matt and one named Fred.”
George: “What happened? What did they do?”
“Well, they asked him a bunch of questions. Matt did. Fred seemed to want to leave him alone. They took him in the cruiser down to headquarters. There, this Matt told him to stay away from the neighborhood. He was really spooked. He wasn’t coming back.”
George: “Is that all they did?”
“Guess so. Lloyd seemed to think that they officer named Matt was pushing it. Fred, if that was the other officer’s name, wasn’t.”
George: “What did you tell Lloyd to do?”
“I told him to bathe, shave, to carry some ID and money and to come up here tomorrow morning wearing the clothes Josh gave him.”
George: “Is he going to do that?”
“He finally said that he would. I told him that there wouldn’t be any trouble. I told him that you and me could take care of the police if they bothered him again.”
George: “I’ll talk to Josselyn. I don’t think she has had anything to do with Matt in a long time. He tried to force himself on her when I was Chief. I think he thought it would give him some sort of promotional ‘in.’ She dumped him.”
“I thought it was something like that. Josh and I talked about it some.”
George: “I’ll take it from here. Thanks for calling me, Eric.”
When he hung up from his conversation with Eric, George dialed a number.
“Hi, Sweetie.”
Josselyn: “Hi, Dad. What’s up?”
“When was the last time you saw Matt?”
Josselyn: “Matt? Matt Shoen? I haven’t seen him in a long time. I told him not to bother me anymore. That was a long time ago. Why do you ask?”
“Two officers picked Lloyd up shortly after he left Eric’s this afternoon. One was Matt and he gave Lloyd a rough time. He loaded him in the cruiser and took him downtown. Then, they let him go. Matt told him to never come back up here.”
Josselyn: “That sounds just like Matt. He is not a nice man. I think he beats up on people just for the ‘fun’ of it. As soon as I got to really know him, I ended it before it even began.”
“Well, it could have been a coincidence, but I’m skeptical. I don’t really believe in that kind of coincidence. Maybe he’s still keeping an eye on you.”
Josselyn: “It’s been a long time, Dad. With almost anyone but Matt, I would find it hard to believe. With him? I just don’t know. It could be.”
“I wanted to touch base with you just to be sure. Next, I’ll have a talk with Mr. Matt Shown and with his partner, Fred Daley. I think that will do it. Night, Sweetie.”
Josselyn: “Goodnight, Dad, and good luck.”
‘Now, Officers Shoen and Daley, we’ll find out what threatening Mr. Daggett is all about.’ Having said that to himself, George reached for the phone and dialed the police dispatcher’s non-emergency number.
The next morning Lloyd was walking along the street. As he neared the corner to turn onto the street where Miz Morning and Dr. Meldrum live, a car pulled over to the curb. Matt jumped out of the car and rushed in front of Lloyd, blocking the sidewalk.
“Think you’re pretty smart, eh, dumbo. Why’d you tell old George Morning about our little conversation yesterday? That wasn’t his business. That was just between me and you.” Matt was livid.
“I didn’t . . . I didn’t talk to Chief Morning nor tell him nothin’.” Lloyd stared at Matt.
“Liar! He called Fred, first, and then me last night. He told us not to bother you anymore. Said you had a right to be up in that neighborhood, same as anyone else. Said you were doing yard work for his daughter and that shrink next door to Josh.”
“All of that is true. Still, I didn’t call him or talk with him.” Lloyd seemed to gain confidence as he said this.
“Who did you call? Miss Josselyn, high and mighty, Morning?”
“No, sir, I shore didn’t call her. Wouldn’t bother her with nothin’ likes of that. I called Dr. Meldrum to tell him I couldn’t come back today to work for him like I had promised. Or for Miz Morning, either. That’s who I called and what I said.” Lloyd’s voice was resolute.
“Now we are getting some place. What’d that old goat say when you told him that?”
“He asked me why. He wanted to know what had changed my mind in such a short time. So I told him ever’thin’.”
“That was a dumbo-idiot thing to do. I might have known that you didn’t
have no sense. Now you really got problems, jerk. You turn around and head back
where you came from. If you don’t, I’ll show you who belongs here and
who doesn’t!”
Lloyd looked at Matt. Then at the ground. He knitted his brow. He was clearly trying
to decide what he should do between two very different and difficult options.
Lloyd reached a decision: “You ain’t in uniform. That means you ain’t acting as a police officer, ‘fficial-like. I reckon I’m going on to work for Dr. Meldrum, like I promised him I would.”
Matt reached out and grabbed Lloyd and gave him a shove backwards. Caught completely by off-guard, Lloyd stumbled and fell to the sidewalk. Just then, a second car pulled up to the curb. George Morning rushed out of his car.
In a booming voice, he said, “Hold it right there, Mr. Shoen!”
Matt turns in obvious surprise.
“I guess I didn’t make myself entirely clear last night. I told you to leave Mr. Daggett alone.”
Matt was too surprised to speak.
“Josselyn wants nothing to do with you. She has made that more than clear. Neither she nor Dr. Meldrum wants you hassling Mr. Daggett. You want to hassle someone, you hassle me.”
Matt backed toward his car. George Morning walked toward him. Matt turned and ran. He got in his car and slammed the door. He had trouble getting the car to start. By the time he got it started, George Morning was standing by the driver’s side.
“The trouble ends here and now or you answer to me and to your superiors. Got it? You want trouble? You come see me. I am trouble with a capital ‘T’!”
Matt gunned the engine and screeched away.
George walked back to where Lloyd was standing and brushing some leaves and grass off of his clean clothes.
George held out his hand. “I’m George Morning, Josselyn’s father, Mr. Daggett. Sorry that working for my daughter caused you this problem. I think this is the last time that officer or anyone else will bother you about coming to and from your jobs.”
The two shook hands. George took Lloyd lightly by the arm and lead him towards his car.
“Did you hurt yourself when he pushed you down?
Finally, Lloyd found his voice, “No, no sir. I jes slipped is all. He took
me ‘pleatly by surprise.”
“He was acting like a darned fool. Don’t know what got into him. Josselyn brushed him off a long time ago. Guess he’s one of those macho pig-heads that can’t take no for an answer.”
George waved Lloyd toward the passenger side of his car.
“If you don’t mind, get in the car. I’ll drive you over to Eric’s place. That way, you won’t be late.”
Lloyd got in the car. “I’m sure ‘bliged to you, Mr. . . er, Chief Morning. Shore never thought my comin’ up here would cause anyone, ‘ceptin’ maybe me, all this trouble.
“I know’d the cops don’t like riff-raff like me in these fancy neighborhoods.”
“The trouble was not your fault. This has nothing to do with legitimate police business. It’s just that fool, Matt Shoen, trying to cause trouble ‘cause my daughter wouldn’t have anything to do with him.”
“Shore don’t know why he’d bother the likes of me. I ain’t nothin’ but a poor workin’ man. Never did nothin’ to him.”
“If Matt gives you any more trouble, you get in touch with me immediately. Here is my card.” George handed Lloyd one of his private investigator business cards.
“Thank you, Chief Morning. I ‘ppreciate it.”
“My daughter is probably at work. I’ll just let you off here in the driveway and go on. Eric is waiting for you. He’ll be in his study or the kitchen. Just walk on in.”
Lloyd got out of the car and headed towards the back of Eric’s house.
Lloyd was at Dr. Meldrum’s door at 8 o’clock, sharp. Lloyd did not mention his hassle with Matt Shoen. He and Dr. Meldrum talked about the yard and the flower gardens as they went around the yard. Lloyd got the garden tools out of Dr. Meldrum’s garage and began to do the things they had talked about. When lunchtime arrived, Dr. Meldrum had some sandwiches and other things on a tray. He asked Lloyd to carry the tray out onto the patio. They had lunch, while Dr. Meldrum discussed in greater detail exactly what he had in mind for the yard and for the flowerbeds.
After lunch, Lloyd, carried the tray with the remains of the luncheon things on it as he went behind Dr. Meldrum into the house. After leaving the tray in the kitchen, Lloyd followed Dr. Meldrum into the study. Lloyd sat where he had the day before.
“Well, Lloyd, you did some good work this morning. I have ordered some plants and other things. They will be here in a little while. That gives us some time to consider what we talked about yesterday. Do you remember much from yesterday?”
“Not a whole lot. I tol’ you ‘bout myself. You listened. Then, you talked and I . . . guess I went to sleep. Funny thing is, you didn’t seem upset ‘bout that. Me sleepin’, that is.”
“Pretty good, Lloyd. I couldn’t have summed it up better myself. There are several things to remember: Sometimes you talk and I listen. Sometimes I talk and you listen. Sometimes you go to sleep while I’m talking so you can listen more carefully and so you can remember some of the things I say better; also so you will forget some of the things I say until later. You see, Lloyd, psychiatry is a matter of talking, and listening, and understanding.”
“Sure don’t know nothin’ ‘bout that psychi’try stuff. Did a heap of thinkin’ since I left here yesterday. Heap of thinkin’. Thought you’d be mad ‘cause I went to sleep. Guess you wanted me to. Never thought I could sleep and listen at the same time.”
“Oh, Lloyd, you listen well when you are awake, too. But the other way has its uses. No