NOTE: If you haven’t been following this from the beginning, and if you want to know the full sequence of events, start with the introduction. Click on Archives on the right.
I am walking along upper Bails Lane with Lou Waymarsh taking a long route down to lunch at the H Bar. The heatwave of July is over, and moderate weather prevails for now.
“Have you seen they are cutting down trees on the old Wittgenstein property?”
“No, Fred, I have been out of town.”
“I thought that place was tied up in litigation.”
“Yeah, as far as I know it still is.”
“You’ll see, it is all happening next door to Rank’s place.”
“I can hear someone working up here.”
A lone crow flies over us cawing repeatedly and lands in a Bartlet pear tree ahead, where it goes on calling. We pass under the tree as it stops.
Rank is raking leaves, twigs and sawdust off to the side of his driveway, into the ivy and under a tangle of Japanese honeysuckle and wisteria.
“Hi, Rank looks like you got some fallout from the tree cutters next door.”
Rank looks up from his rake.
“Yeah, they’re called arborists!”
“The arborist doesn’t cut, just advises.”
“Take a look at their truck when you get up there. It says Dordrecht Arborists.”
“They all work for the same company.”
“What you might call a conflict of interest.”
Rank points to the thicket.
“Diddlie tells me all that stuff is invasive. Maybe I’ll ask them to come over and clear it.”
Lou gestures towards an orange backhoe parked next door.
“That thing could do it a few minutes!”
“Right, and get Diddlie off my back too. She won’t shut up about it.”
“When did they start work?”
“A couple of days ago. The orange trucks and backhoe were pulling in when I went out to get the mail.”
“That’s Dordrechts Group, right?”
“Yes it is.”
“Do you know who bought the place?”
“Sure, De Geer Properties bought it.”
“I thought Tract and Arts Company owned it, didn’t they?”
“Yeah, but they were bought out by International Business Interests, you know IBI.”
“They are the ones who were coming after Max Plank.”
“Maybe, Lou, they are pretty aggressive.”
“What was the outcome, Lou?”
“Fred, the last I heard, Sherman Shroud was negotiating with them, and that was a while back.”
“That’s what Sherman does. He seldom goes to court.”
“This is only the tip of the financial iceberg.”
“What do you mean, Rank?”
“I have said too much already, Lou.”
Rank bends down to pick up a long a thin branch loaded with wilted leaves.
“So long, Rank.”
Rank does not respond. We walk on around The Ashes on the right.
“There’s the remains of that huge tulip poplar in the front yard.”
“That thing must have been two hundred years old, Lou!”
“Diddlie told me they can live over three hundred years.”
We pass Hank dumpty’s old place which was redeveloped and then recently burned down.
“Looks like they have cleaned up at last!”
“Look at all that goldenrod! Diddlie will be harvesting that soon.”
“I am surprised the lot has not been rebuilt yet.”
“Do you see any more of those fake plants, Fred?”
“No, the azaleas and rhododendrons look real, see the dead leaves?”
“Yeah, that rhody stem has snapped off.”
“They must have been the only real shrubs on the place.”
“Notice they are on the edge of the property.”
We turn the corner. The river comes into sight on the left.
On the right we pass a community well site with the pump house roped off. A mud-stained green Ford F150 pulls up and turns on to the property. Lou waves.
A woman gets out. The engine is running, and she leaves the door open, then lets down the tailgate with a loud metallic crash.
“Hi there Lou. You seen Westard?”
“No, I haven’t seen him this year.”
“Isn’t he, Westard North, chair of your water committee?”
“I thought it was Dick East.”
“No, Dan West told me it was Westard. You’ve got nearly all the points of the compass in that group!”
“Edy, do you know Fred?”
Edy walks over. Her overalls are caked with dried clay.
“I think we met back when we drilled this thing.”
Lou is looking at the well site.
“That was back in 2013, wasn’t it?”
“Right, my lucky thirteen. I got two flats doing that job.”
“Did you have any enemies around here, then?”
“Not that I know of. We broke a couple of drill bits too, getting down through rock to the water.”
“How deep is this one?”
“Fred, this one is three hundred forty feet.”
“As deep as that?”
“Take a look over there.”
Edy points to the river.
“We are at least a hundred fifty above the river, maybe two hundred.”
Edy gets a text.
“Edy, are you going to cap this well off?”
She is tapping her phone. The lone crow has found a flock and they fly over cawing to each other.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
“Are you going to cap this well off?”
“No, you have an electrical problem. I think it is the control box.”
“What’s that?”
“It responds to changes in air pressure and switches on the air pump to keep the water pressure in the mains at forty-seven PSI.”
“That is pounds per square inch, Fred.”
“I get it, Lou. Air is used to pressurize the storage tank.”
Rank has walked across the lot from his driveway and talks to Eddie.
“Hi there, saw you go by. Are you going to get someone to fix this thing?”
“That’s me, Edy Carnap, Women’s Wells Cooperative.”
“Women’s Wells Cooperative, this is a multigender community.”
“I know, we drilled this thing.”
“You did?”
“That’s right. Talk to Westard North, he knows the whole story.”
“I would rather not.”
“Up to you, of course.”
“So, where’s your electrician?”
“You are looking at her.”
“For heaven’s sake!”
“I am waiting for Westard, or somebody to open the pump house. Can you do it?”
“No, I don’t have any keys. I thought you were from Dordrechts.”
“I have worked with them a few times.”
“Yeah, well Edy, I want the backhoe operator to drive over and rip out a few weeds. I’ll make it worth his while and it shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”
“They are probably stuck on 95. It is backed up, as usual.”
Edy leans into her truck and turns the engine off and Rank turns back toward his place.
Lou looks at me.
“How about lunch?”
“Has the H bar reopened?”
“It will be open to us, like last time.”
