133Patrick Jane woke to the sound of shouting and hammering on the RV door. He lay in bed in the pre-dawn greyness as his dad called out, "Who is it?"
"Alex Jane? Police. Open up." More banging. His Dad came over to his bed.
"You better get up too, Paddy," he murmured to Patrick, then louder "I'm coming, I'm coming." Alex opened the door as Patrick shrugged himself into his dressing gown and followed his dad into the cool pre-dawn air.
"Alex Jane? You're under arrest for fraud." As the uniformed cop started to read his rights and handcuff him, lights began coming on in other RVs and trailers. The next door trailer opened and Josh Barsocky, a big man, stepped down followed by his wife Marie while their son Pete, another big guy, stood at the top of their steps watching. Other figures stepped out or watched from doorways as the sad scene unfolded before them.
"Josh?" Alex called out, "Can you look after Paddy 'till I get back?"
"Sure Alex," Barsocky called back. Alex turned to the cop who had taken his arm and said, "Can I have a word with my boy before we go? He doesn't have a mom, there's only him and me." The cop had been warily regarding the growing crowd of Carnies getting out of bed to witness what was going on, his hand resting lightly on his holstered gun. He was uncomfortably aware of how quickly he and his partner were becoming outnumbered. This guy didn't seem to be making any trouble for them though. No shouting or struggling, he'd come quietly enough. A family man, he thought. He just wants to look out for his son.
"Okay," he said, "be quick," and let Alex turn back to Patrick.
"Paddy," Alex said clearly. "You go stay over with Pete and the Barsockys until I get back. I'm sure this is just a little misunderstanding. I'll go sort things out with these gentlemen and I'll be back as soon as I can. Okay?"
"Okay Dad," replied Patrick, starting to feel a little anxious. 'Little misunderstanding' meant his Dad thought this might be serious. 'Sort things out' meant he needed Patrick to call a lawyer right away. 'Gentlemen' asked everyone in earshot not to make a fuss. Well, his Dad had been arrested a few times before. He always made it back a few hours later. Though thinking about it, he'd never asked Patrick to call a lawyer before. Patrick's unease deepened.
The cops took his unresisting father to their car and the small crowd dispersed back to their trailers. As they drove away Patrick turned back to his trailer to search for the address book and a quarter to make the call. Marie stuck her head in the open door.
"A sleepover, huh?" she smiled. Pete and Patrick had been best friends for years in spite of their difference in age. Pete, always tall and broad-shouldered for his age, had been unofficial big brother and frequent babysitter for all the younger Carny kids since he was twelve years old. Patrick had looked up to Pete for as long as he could remember. They had the same sense of humor and shared an interest in mechanical things: the vehicles and the big rides. Patrick's quick wit and intelligence had made up for any remaining differences. Now Pete was twenty, had been on one of the rigging crews for a few years but they still hung out together sometimes. Sleepovers hadn't happened for a while. "You coming over straight away, Honey?" Marie asked.
"Hey, Mrs B," Patrick replied. "First I just gotta make a phone call."
Patrick walked over to the trailer park's only payphone with Marie Barsocky's words still ringing in his ears.
"You calling Mister Taylor for your dad? Good. He's a good lawyer." All the Carnies had Taylor's number. He was rumored to have worked the Midway himself many years ago and was their first port of call when trouble found them in California.
Patrick hoped Taylor was a good lawyer. He knew a few of the crewmen and showies had spent some time in prison. Had that been in California? Surely if Taylor was that good they wouldn't have had to? He wondered briefly what those guys had done to be sent to prison. It wasn't something people talked about, at least not to him. Certainly when his dad had been arrested previously the worst had been a night in a police cell followed by a fine. However his dad had never been arrested first thing in the morning before, this had felt more like a raid. He'd never before told him it was serious or asked him to call a lawyer, either. Fraud, the cop had said. He found himself wondering what it was his dad could have done. They certainly hadn't pulled any scams together in the last few weeks – not since they hit California. Towards the end of the season Dad would always say it wasn't smart to muddy the water where you drank. Scams on the circuit almost always happened a day or so before they made one of the longer-distance hops to a new showground and they had planned to stay in Carson Springs until next May.
Patrick arrived at the trailer park office by the main gate. The payphone was outside. He dialed the lawyer's number and waited. He didn't have to wait long, the guy picked up the phone almost straight away and sounded alert in spite of the early hour.
"Taylor, who's calling please?"
"My name is Patrick Jane," Patrick began but the lawyer broke in at that point.
"You're not in trouble yourself are you son?" The voice sounded simply curious that he might be, there was nothing judgemental about the tone.
"No Sir. It's my dad. His name is Alex Jane, he was just arrested."
"Can you tell me where they took him?"
"No Sir, I'm sorry." Why hadn't he asked? Now Taylor mentioned it of course the lawyer would need to know where to meet up with his dad. He felt suddenly very young and very ignorant.
"Never mind, son. Was it detectives or uniformed cops who arrested your dad?"
"The Sheriff."
"Okay, I know where he'll be. I'm leaving right now. Don't worry. Can you give me your number so I can call you later?"
"Uh, I'm calling from a payphone, Sir. 916 555 9472"
"Stoney Ridge, huh? Just give me your trailer address then son, someone will drop round later."
"1327 Stoney Ridge."
"Will your mom be there all day today?"
"It's just Dad and me, Sir."
"Are you alone in the trailer now, son?"
"Uh, I'll be next door, in 1329, staying with the Barsockys. Dad asked them to look after me until he comes back."
"Okay son. Try not to worry about your dad. I'm heading over to see him right now and if he's not back with you in a couple of hours I'll drop by your trailer myself before lunchtime."
The line went dead. Patrick had liked the man's voice, it had seemed calm and reassuring. Marie thought Taylor was OK. However he'd hated not knowing where his dad had been taken and hated even more telling this stranger he had no mom.
Patrick's mind crowded with uneasy thoughts as he headed back to the RV and the dawn approached. After returning the address book he locked it up and padded over to the Barsocky's place. Marie gave him a hug and Josh squeezed his shoulder as he approached. They already had a couple of gas rings standing on the brick barbecue beside their trailer. Marie had a huge pan out and was making pancake batter while Josh was setting up a table and chairs outside – an extra body meant there was no room for everyone to eat in the trailer. It would have been too early for breakfast on a normal day but no-one was going to get back to sleep now.
Pete, now dressed, sat outside with Patrick waiting for breakfast while the sun rose and the others got up. Alone with Patrick for a moment Pete rumbled quietly, "It'll be okay. Your dad's Teflon-coated, buddy!" Then Pete's sister and her fiancé arrived at the table, chatting about their plans for the day. Patrick was grateful for that, he didn't want to talk about what had just happened. Instead Pete started talking about other things too, he was planning to do some welding practice later that day. Patrick had intended to hang out & watch but he didn't think he'd be doing that now. The first batch of pancakes arrived and in the subsequent civilized melee Patrick caught both Marie and Josh occasionally casting anxious glances in his direction. They cornered him while everyone ate and Patrick explained quietly that Taylor would be coming over if his dad didn't make it back.
"I met him a coupla times," Marie said blandly, sharing a look with Josh but not going into any further details. "He used to work the Midway, back in the day. He's one of us. You can trust him. He'll do his best for your dad." She gave Patrick a long, considering look. "You want me to wait with you?" Patrick was grateful for the offer but he wanted to talk to his dad alone when he got back. If he didn't come back he was sure his dad wouldn't want anyone else to speak to Taylor.
"No, I'll be fine. Thanks anyway Mrs B."
His last thought before he finally returned to his trailer to get dressed was how it had never occurred to him that his dad might be innocent.
After dressing Patrick busied himself cleaning up the place. It was never a mess. Living in such a small space meant both he and his dad were necessarily tidy. However today he made sure the beds were freshly made with clean sheets, all the surfaces were gleaming and the small rug was beaten free of crumbs. He took the old sheets and a few other clothes to the little laundromat at the trailer park office. The familiar domestic activity helped him keep from fruitless speculation as the morning passed with no sign of his dad. When everywhere was sparkling and everything put away in it's place Patrick had a sudden brainwave. He dug twenty bucks in small bills out of the housekeeping money, asked Marie to keep an eye out for his dad or Taylor then went visiting some of the more colorful characters who were staying in Stoney Ridge this year. They were mostly poker or drinking buddies of his dad and all had small items for Alex, in return for a small consideration.
A few minutes before twelve o'clock Patrick, changed into clean clothes after his busy morning, was sitting on his trailer steps with his eyes closed, apparently enjoying the sunshine on his face. A half-eaten sandwich was sitting unregarded on a plate next to him while he cradled a cup of tea in his hands. Inside his mind was racing and he felt a little sick. His dad hadn't made it back. It must be serious like he had said that morning. His earlier refusal hadn't stopped Marie hovering round the Barsocky's trailer casting occasional, anxious glances toward Patrick. To take his mind off what was happening he mused on what Marie has said about Taylor. How did a lawyer come to work on the Midway? No that's not the right way round, thought Patrick. How did someone who worked on the Midway manage to leave the Carnival and become a lawyer? One the Carnies still trusted, too, it seemed.
A brand new Lincoln drove onto the trailer park and round to lot 1327. Patrick could see that there was only the driver in the car, no sign of his dad. An old guy, grey haired anyway, in a dark blue three-piece suit fiddled with something on the passenger seat then eased himself out of the car, bringing with him a black leather briefcase.
"Mr Patrick Jane? My name's Simon Taylor, we spoke on the phone this morning."
"Hello Mr Taylor," said Patrick, standing and putting his cup down on the step before walking forward and shaking hands. He always aimed for slightly old-fashioned and over-the-top polite behavior when dealing with adults for the first time. It amused him how often they found him slightly unnerving. People who were outside their comfort zone often gave away a great deal about themselves without realizing. Mr Taylor, however, just took his hand, as if shaking hands with a thirteen-year-old boy was the most natural thing in the world.
"Would you prefer to talk out here or somewhere more private, Mr. Jane?" he asked.
"In private," said Patrick, eyeing Marie Barsocky and lifting the cup and plate from the steps before gesturing toward the RV. He followed Taylor up into the trailer and waved him to the bench seat behind the dining table, heading into the kitchen area as he did so. Mr. Jane? Where did that come from? People didn't even call his dad that! This lawyer didn't seem to be mocking him. The thought crossed his mind that here was someone else with an act. Taylor was aiming for the same old-fashioned polite manner as Patrick and for the same reason. Patrick smiled to himself. It was a good act, so good most people wouldn't see it was an act.
"Would you like some tea, Mr Taylor?"
"Thank you, yes," replied the man. As Patrick filled the kettle and started getting the teapot out of the overhead cupboard Taylor went on, "May I call you Patrick?"
That was a nice touch, Patrick thought. Strangers usually did but none had ever asked if it was ok before. On an impulse, feeling he was in the presence of a fellow showman, he called over his shoulder, "Call me Paddy."
"Thank you, Paddy." Taylor paused before continuing, "Your dad wanted me to tell you he's doing just fine." Patrick looked round, caught Taylor's eye and nodded before turning back to the tea. 'Just fine' meant just that, no codes. Patrick only realized he had been tense up to that point because this news had made him relax a little. That was kind of Taylor. The whistling of the kettle brought all conversation to a halt so in silence Patrick finished up, brought the tea things over on a tray and set it down in the middle of the table. He sat opposite Taylor and began pouring them a cup each.
Taylor had obviously been looking round the trailer from his seat while Patrick was busy because he'd had to turn back to face him over the table. Patrick was obscurely pleased he'd cleaned the place up. Taylor waited a moment to see if Patrick wanted to speak, then continued, "Well Paddy, I should think you have just about a million questions for me."
"Where's my dad? Why isn't he back already? What do they think he's done?" The words tumbled out and Patrick felt himself blush. He hadn't meant to be such a kid. He took a deep breath, thinking fast. This guy is smart and he's not just a lawyer, he's a showman. He isn't treating me like I'm some stupid kid but I bet he doesn't want to tell me everything that's going on. If I don't ask the right questions he'll be able to leave things out. And I want to know everything.
"I need to know what's going on, Mr Taylor. If Dad was here he'd tell me everything. We don't keep secrets from each other," he lied. He watched Taylor's face closely but this guy wasn't giving anything away. I bet he's a good card player, Patrick felt the thought drift through his mind and he filed it away for later consideration.
"What, never?"
Patrick held his gaze steadily as he replied, "Not when it's important."
Taylor smiled. "Paddy, that was very impressive. You looked and sounded completely sincere. You're a very good liar." It sounded like praise rather than disapprobation and Patrick couldn't help himself, he grinned broadly. Taylor chuckled.
"You're not angry?" asked Patrick. Taylor shook his head.
"I get a lot of practice with the act, I have to be convincing," Patrick explained.
"I guess you do," smiled Taylor. "Tell me about the act."
This surprised Patrick. He looked into Taylor's face but could only read polite inquiry there. Maybe he just wants to put me at my ease.
"Me and Dad do a psychic act, 'The Boy Wonder Sees All'. You know, naming things my Dad gets from the audience when I'm blindfolded, cold reading, fortune telling, that kind of thing. We do private psychic readings as well. I can do magic tricks too, close-up work, but they don't really fit in the 'Boy Wonder' act." He carefully didn't mention talking to the spirits of the departed, pickpocketing or working long cons. Some adults could be picky about those sorts of things. Even Marie had lost her temper when she found out about the pickpocketing.
"Expand your repertoire a little and in a few years you can take it to Las Vegas."
"Yeah, that's what Dad says."
"However you need to be honest with me. I'm your family's lawyer. Things could turn out badly if you're not totally honest with me or if you leave out details I need to know." Patrick thought he could hear the truth in Taylor's words and nodded his understanding. Taylor continued, "Anything you say is completely confidential between us, that's the law. I can then advise you and your dad what should be made public in court to get the best possible outcome for him. Tell me what you know about why I'm here."
"I really have no idea why Dad's been arrested. The Sheriff said 'fraud' but that could mean anything. Dad was worried when it happened, he thought it might be serious and asked me to call you. That's all I know. Dad's been arrested before," Patrick said candidly, "but this is the first time he hasn't gotten back a few hours later. Now you're here and he's not. You said he's OK but I need to know what's going on."
Taylor nodded thoughtfully then suddenly asked, "Do you want an adult here while we talk?" That seemed strange. Was Taylor stalling? Why would he do that? Patrick thought seriously about the question, after all Marie had practically asked the same thing, but he was still sure his dad was happier sharing his son with the Barsockys than the details of his arrest.
"I can't think of anyone except Dad," Patrick replied simply. Taylor looked closely into Patrick's face and his carefully bland look faltered a little. Just for a moment it seemed as though that simple sentence had unexpectedly moved the man.
"You have an aunt I think, your dad's sister? Lily? She took care of you when you were younger?
"Last I heard was a couple of months ago. She was heading back to Mexico to stay with Uncle Estaban's family. We haven't seen her in about two years."
"Would they be able to travel back to take care of you for a while?"
"No sir, if Lily's in Mexico it's because she's about to have another baby. Esteban's sister Julia is a midwife." With Esteban's mom and extended family on hand to help it made it so much easier – and cheaper – to have their babies in Mexico.
"How about your grandfather?"
"No, he died before I was born. Nana Sofia lives in Mexico but she's Estaban's mother, not really a blood relative. We stayed down there one winter. That's where Lily and Estaban went."
"I meant your dad's father, what about him."
"Uh, I don't know where he is," Patrick replied slowly, guardedly, then faster, "and I don't think Dad would want him to be involved." Taylor remained silent. "I never met dad's family apart from Aunt Lily." Taylor still said nothing but lifted an eyebrow in inquiry. The silence lengthened.
"Aunt Lily told me he used to beat dad with his belt," Patrick reluctantly continued. "Dad has scars, small ones, all over his back and legs. I've seen them my whole life. He never talked about them but Lily said one time they were from when the old bastard would use the buckle end. I don't want to find out the hard way that she was telling the truth."
"Jesus." Taylor said it quietly and looked away for a moment before catching Patrick's eye again and asking gently, "Does your dad ever hit you, Paddy?"
"No!" Patrick could tell Taylor was skeptical so he added, "His hands make fists sometimes when he gets angry but he's never used them on me. He uses words. He criticizes me a lot, tells me off, shouts sometimes but that's all." When Taylor remained silent he continued, "This last summer I made him angrier than I ever saw him before. All he did was haul me upright before he told me off. Dad's never hit me, Mr. Taylor." He hated remembering that day: the scam he still felt guilty about, his dad's fury, the hundred-dollar bill he couldn't bring himself to spend. "When he's angry with me he uses his words, not his fists." Doesn't have to, his words are more than enough, thought Patrick but he didn't voice the thought. Either Taylor was satisfied with this or he decided he wasn't going to get anything else.
"You two really do just have each other, don't you? I know you want him back here, Paddy. He wants to be here too. I'm going to do my best to get him back as quickly as possible. But you need to be prepared for that to be longer than either of you might want."
Taylor broke eye contact to open his briefcase and pulled out a thin file. He flicked through it, then looked back into Patrick's face wearing a serious expression.
"Your dad set up a company last year to resell a complicated kind of financial product that might very well be illegal." Taylor could see the word 'complicated' had introduced a sullen look onto Patrick's face. "I'm not saying you wouldn't understand, Paddy, I'm saying I don't understand it. I don't think the DA really understands it either but there's been a lot of this sort of thing going on and people, voters, have been losing their money." Patrick nodded glumly. He could just imagine his dad jumping at the chance for lost money to find its way into his possession.
"The law needs clarifying. No doubt it will be, in some long-running law suit fought between the state of California and some big investment firm with deep pockets. In the mean time the governor wants to be seen to be taking action on this issue, elections are coming up. Your dad made some mistakes when he set up his company which means the DA can prosecute him now on several technicalities without having to wait for the law to be clarified. Do you follow me so far?"
"I guess," replied Patrick. He didn't. The governor and DA sounded like powerful enemies, though.
"They want a quick win and a severe penalty. They think that'll win them votes. They also want to send a message to the big financial firms out there to clean up their act and discourage any new small businesses like your dad's from starting up in order to sell this kind of thing." Taylor watched Patrick's face closely as this sank in. The governor wanted to be re-elected, the DA wanted to punish someone severely to make sure other people didn't try the same scam and his dad wasn't rich enough to fight back.
"What does that even mean, a quick win with a severe penalty?"
"I'm sorry Paddy, it means the DA wants to put your dad in prison for a long time." That was a shock and it must have showed on his face because Taylor looked at him with concern and said, "The DA won't get what he wants but I'm afraid you and your dad won't get what you want either. I'm working on sorting out a deal with the DA's office but whatever happens your dad will have to spend some time in prison."
"How long?"
"I am good at what I do, Paddy. Your dad is cooperating fully and I've already talked to the Assistant District Attorney. He won't get a long sentence."
"How long, Mr Taylor?"
"It's my job to make sure that time is as short as possible. The very best he can hope for is maybe ninety days. I can't offer any guarantees yet but I think the absolute worst he could expect would be eighteen months. It's most likely to be somewhere in between. He'd serve less time with good behavior – that just means he can get out of prison early if he doesn't cause any trouble," Taylor added when Patrick's eyebrows shot up. "I'm sorry Paddy, that's not all. You're affected too. You'll have to go into foster care until he's released."
Patrick wanted to say 'That's not fair,' but even as the thought crossed his mind the words died on his lips. If anyone knew about games being loaded against you it was the son of a Carny showman. He was ashamed to feel tears prickling in his eyes. He blinked them back and swallowed before he asked, "Can't I stay here? I can look after myself."
"I know you can, Paddy, I can see that, but the State of California says if you're thirteen then you're not allowed to."
"I could move in with my dad's friends here, I know they'd take me in," Patrick invented wildly. He wasn't sure they would at all, another mouth to feed would be expensive and bed space was rare in the family trailers. It wouldn't be for long though. Once they'd convinced the State of California he was fine he could quietly move back to his dad's RV. Taylor seemed to be reading his thoughts.
"Carson Springs Child Protective Services will only place you with registered foster parents. You'll get a social worker visiting you regularly to make sure everything's okay. I'm sorry Paddy," Taylor repeated, seeing his expression. "You're going to have to leave Stoney Ridge for a while." Patrick nodded. Of course those dice would be loaded too. This was totally outside his experience.
"How soon do I have to go?"
"When the police arrested your dad they called the CPS. They wanted to pick you up then but I convinced them to leave you with your dad's friend until I'd had a chance to speak with you. I'm supposed to take you back there with me."
"Can you take me to see Dad first? Before I go to Child Protective Services, I mean?" Taylor had been about to say no but he looked at the earnest expression on the boy's face and relented. The CPS wouldn't even notice an extra hour or so.
"Okay Paddy. Your dad's still in a holding cell at the Sheriff's office. We can stop by there on the way to the CPS."
"Can I take anything with me?" It was a simple, practical question, there had been no self-pity in Patrick's voice but the words pierced Taylor's heart and his expression faltered again. The Midway was the only world the boy had ever known. It might be a tough life but the people were tolerant of those who didn't conform to society's norms and were fiercely loyal to their own kind. Taylor knew first-hand how hard it was to leave the warm embrace of that world after just a few years in it, even though he had wanted to move on. Being forced from it, living with a foster family, with townies, would be even harder for Patrick. Taylor tried to be reassuring.
"Of course you should pack a bag. You're not going to prison, Paddy, you won't even be living that far away from Stoney Ridge. Think of it as going away on holiday." The blank look he got told him 'holiday' was as alien a concept to Patrick as foster care. He plowed on. "You're thirteen, old enough to come here to see your friends after school. I'm sure you can come back any time to pick up anything you don't pack now. I would say pack enough for a week, to start with."
"School?" Patrick had managed to sound fine about foster care but he didn't sound fine about this.
"Most kids your age do go to school, yes," Taylor replied wryly.
I've been home schooled for two years, Mr. Taylor."
Taylor could hear the anxiety in Patrick's voice. Dear Christ, he thought, the boy hasn't been to school since graduating elementary. He's bright and seems mature but he's physically small for his age and he's going to be way behind his peers at middle school. A lone Carny among hundreds of townie kids, where difference is definitely not tolerated and friendships and loyalties can shift on a daily basis. The staff will know he won't be there long, how much extra help will he get from them? And he knows it too, at least some of it.
"I'm sorry Paddy. Your social worker and foster carer will know more about it than I do," Taylor replied. His words felt like a betrayal. Patrick looked steadily at him for a few seconds too long, then shrugged in a noncommittal manner.
"May I have a few minutes to pack, Sir?"
"Of course, Paddy. I'll wait in the car."
A short amount of time later Patrick emerged, a very small old-fashioned suitcase in one hand and a cardboard box under the other arm. He locked the RV, the key vanishing into a pocket. Taylor was already out of the Lincoln and opening the trunk.
"May I say goodbye to my neighbors?" Taylor looked skeptical. "I'm not going to run, Mr. Taylor. Where would I go?" Taylor had the grace to look abashed. Patrick indicated the box. "We had some fresh food. I can't leave it in the RV and the Barsockys gave me breakfast this morning." Of course the boy would want to repay that obligation before he left, Taylor thought. That was another unspoken Carny rule. He looked into the box: milk, butter, yogurt, bread, a handful of fruit and vegetables. To Patrick's surprise Taylor took the box from him.
"Put your case in the trunk, Paddy, then we'll both go to see them. I'll carry the box for you." Patrick did so and they stepped the few yards to the Barsocky's trailer. Marie opened the door before they got to it.
"I need to go away for a while too, Mrs B," Patrick said lightly. "I didn't want to throw this away if you can use it." He gestured towards the box. Marie stepped out and gave him a long hug.
"If we can't use it we'll find someone who can." Marie turned a cold look on Taylor. "Mr. Taylor."
"Always a pleasure, Mrs. Barsocky," Taylor said, wearing his politeness like armor against her coolness and handing over the box. "Patrick will be back here to visit, I'm sure, over the next few days. He can't stay here," Taylor stressed the word stay, "but I can't see there being any problem with him visiting his friends here as much as he likes once he's settled with his foster carer."
"Thank you, Mr. Taylor," said Marie, now looking slightly less concerned. "You come back any time, Paddy. Any time. You know you're always welcome here." Patrick nodded.
"Thanks Mrs B."
Taylor held out his hand. "Good to see you again, Mrs Barsocky. Please pass on my compliments to your family." With that he turned and escorted Patrick back to the Lincoln. Patrick, lost in thought, didn't look up as they left Stoney Ridge and headed into the center of Carson Springs.
