Dave Zeltserman: Small crimes

The big crimes began one summer night about twelve years ago. It was three in the morning, and I was having trouble sleeping. I had gotten into my cruiser and was driving around town when I noticed the front door of a jewelry store jimmied open. As usual, I had my service revolver with me, and when I went to investigate I found Dan Pleasant and several of his boys ransacking the place. So I had a choice; bust our county sheriff and several of his officers or go in for a split. I guess I felt uneasy busting a fellow officer, especially feeling as dirty as I did, so I took my cut. Dan worked with a fence in upstate New York, and my share was fifteen grand – which I pissed away as quickly as I got it. After that robbery I joined Dan on others and got hooked up with Manny.

When I thought about all the things I did, none of it seemed possible, but all I have to do is look Phil Coakley in the face to prove to myself it all happened. So now I was an ex-police officer, a felon, and a divorced husband. I hadn't seen or heard from my ex-wife or kids since the day I was arrested. Other than Morris I hadn't had any visitors or company for seven years, not even my parents. When I thought about all that I'd lost for money I didn't even want, I could barely believe it.

Bradley County is made up of half a dozen towns and sits in a valley on the edge of the Green Mountains. Back when I was a cop, the population of Bradley County, not including the eight thousand students who attended two liberal arts colleges in Eastfield, was around seventy-two thousand. Bradley is the largest town in Bradley County and its population alone is twenty-four thousand.

When I was a kid, once you got five miles away from the town center all you saw was farmland, cow pastures, and woods. About twenty-five years ago, a defense contractor moved in, bought two hundred acres of farmland, and built manufacturing plants on it. By the time I got arrested, more and more cow pasture and farmland was paved over for strip malls and shopping centers.

Even with the loss of farmland, jobs in Bradley County were evenly split between farming, dairy, manufacturing, and tourism, with tourists being either leaf peepers or parents visiting their kids at college.

For most people life in Bradley was uneventful. Just the typical middle-class, bucolic New England town. For most people, anyway.

The cab let me out in front of my parents' house. They had a small three-bedroom ranch on Maple Street, less than a mile from downtown. My dad had bought it forty-five years ago for six thousand dollars. Even though it had less than twelve hundred square feet of interior space, the house was probably worth two hundred grand now. Joe Sr., my dad, had grown up in Bradley, just like his dad before him. Dentons had been living in Bradley for almost a hundred years. Morris had told me that my dad had retired from the fire department a few months after I was arrested, although my dad never said anything to me about it during the half-dozen phone conversations we had while I was in jail.

I looked over the front yard. The grass was freshly mowed and the flower beds were neatly arranged. Paint was beginning to peel in a few spots, but other than that the house seemed to be in good shape, at least from the outside. I carried my duffel bag to the front door and rang the bell.

When I had found out three weeks ago that my parole had been approved, I called my parents to tell them I'd be staying with them until I could get back on my feet. It shouldn't have been any surprise that I was coming, but it took a while before my dad opened the door. He had an odd look on his face as he stood staring at me. I watched the slow transformation while he manufactured a pained smile.

'Joey, I almost didn't recognize you,' he said. 'Come on in, I'll make you something to eat.'

He led me back into the house. He turned once and gave me a quick nervous glance before chattering on about whether I'd like eggs or hot dogs and beans. I told him I planned to go out and get something to eat.

'Nonsense. Tell me what you want and I'll cook it up for you.'

I saw arguing was useless. 'Okay. You got any salami?'

'I got some. I'll make you a sandwich on Wonder Bread with a little mayonnaise. How's that sound?'

'Sounds fine.'

I followed him into the kitchen. He seemed ill at ease as he made me my sandwich. He also seemed to have aged quite a bit more than the seven years since I'd seen him last. He slouched as he stood, his shoulders more stooped than I remembered and his jowls heavier. When I had last seen him, his hair was mostly black with a little gray mixed in. Now there was a lot less of it, and what was left was white. He was only sixty-five, but he looked closer to eighty. 'Where's Mom?'

'She's volunteering today at the library.'

'I thought she'd want to be home to greet me.'

He gave me an uneasy smile. 'Friday's her day to volunteer at the library. She'll be home later.' He cut the sandwich in half, put it on a plate, and handed it to me. 'I'll make you some coffee,' he said.

'How have the two of you been? You never really said much during our phone calls.'

'We've been fine, Joey. My blood pressure's high, and they've got me on some medication, but other than that and some arthritis I'm in good health. Your mom spends a lot of her time volunteering now.' He paused for a moment. I don't know if you've heard, but I retired from the department.'

'I heard something about it.'

I looked out a kitchen window and watched two squirrels chase each other around the backyard. After they chased each other out of sight, I asked if he had heard from my ex-wife.

He shook his head. 'No, son, we haven't heard from her. Not since you went to jail.'

'What?'

"That's right, son.'

'You haven't heard from Elaine once in seven years?’

‘No.'

'Not even to let you talk to your grandchildren?'

He shook his head.

'Or send you pictures of them?'

He gave me a sad, uneasy smile. 'She has full custody of the girls. She doesn't have to contact us. I guess she decided to make a clean break. Joey, you know she moved shortly after your sentencing. But we never got her new address. We don't know where she moved to.'

I couldn't help feeling angry thinking of my parents being cut off from my kids. 'I'm surprised,' I said. 'Elaine always liked you and Mom. I would've thought she'd want to keep in touch with you. And I would've thought she'd want my kids to know their grandparents.'

He shrugged. 'I don't know, son.'

I took a bite of my sandwich and chewed it slowly, buying myself time to process what he was telling me. 'It's not right,' I said after a while. 'Now that I'm out, I'll see a lawyer about changing this.'

'Well, I don't know. You can think about it, Joey, but going to court can be expensive, and your mom and I don't have the money to help you with it.'

I stared at him until he looked away. I didn't believe him. The two of them were nuts about my two kids, and I knew they'd do anything to reestablish contact with them. Of course, he knew I was broke. My house was gone and Elaine had taken whatever savings were left. The only thing I had was two hundred dollars that were in my pocket the night I was arrested and my car. At least, I hoped I still had my car. My dad had agreed to take care of it for me while I was gone.

'I forgot to tell you,' my dad said, trying to smile. 'You got a phone call. I wrote down a message for you.'

He took a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me. Dan Pleasant had called and wanted me to call him back.

'Dad, is my car in the garage?'

He shook his head. 'Ron Hardacher up the street let me keep the car in his garage. It got too difficult moving your car and my car all the time. I drove it every two weeks like I promised and got the oil changed every six months. Here, let me get you the keys.'