Once William was out of school for the summer, the Huxley’s garage became a beehive of activity. Twenty-gallon plastic containers of solution that could fit five Lego sets each to soak overnight lined one wall. Two thick rain slickers and sets of gloves hung neatly on hooks near the door. Near the floor drain was one end of the garden hose which ran into the garage through a small hole John had drilled in the siding, concealed by the untrimmed grass. And there were drop clothes everywhere. They were positioned to be able to cover the whole operation at a moment’s notice.
Most nights the containers sat full, the glue between the cracks of each block dissolving slowly until the Lego sets were ready to disassemble the next morning. They waited until Sara was at work, of course. But every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, once it began, it was in full swing.
It started with one day a week. Only after schools hours at that. The rest of the afternoons each week saw John and William building on their own. The crawl space above the illegal factory in their garage held a town. The Huxley men had been breaking down their sets and harvesting parts to create their own city hidden among the bins of William’s old baby clothes and discarded furniture that was too old to use, but in too good of a condition to throw away.
But soon enough, demand rose. Eventually, building their own city block by block took a back seat to providing customers with underground Lego products. But that, too, was fun and John and William enjoyed donning what they had taken to calling their “lab coats” and refilling boxes that used to contain complete sets with hundreds of small pieces. They adjusted their schedules to work three days a week. And while John forced William to go play with friends on the weekends, it wasn’t what he really wanted to do, but knew it would keep from attracting his mother’s attention.
The work put John back on his feet by necessity. It was taking too long to have William drag him out there in the chair everyday. Eventually, John was taking stairs, albeit slowly, while William went out before him to prep the day’s harvest. And each time it seemed to take John a little too long to get to the garage as he sometimes needed to stop ad catch his breath, out came William to check on his father and take him by the arm.
John was proud of William. He showed dedication. He was up each morning before his mother went to work, getting a solid breakfast. He showed intuition. When they ran out of Mountain Dew, William created another mixture consisting of seltzer water, orange juice and syrup and when they first placed multiple sets in the same bin overnight and the pieces became mixed up, William thought to start placing each set in its own mesh bag.
Above all, the boy showed he was cool under pressure. When Sara asked daily about what he’d done while she was at work, he concocted stories out of thin air without skipping a beat. He made it sound like he was being helpful and spending time with his father without sounding too interested.
To top things off, Patrick Aldous had proven to be trustworthy so far. Nearly four months after having first confronted John, Patrick had yet to ask how they disassembled the sets. He had yet to ask how they procured instruction manuals. He told John that his knowing would only compromise things. The less talk of details, the better.
Patrick believed they were working toward something bigger than themselves. He gladly took over responsibility for making color copies of the manuals. He handled the contact with the customers and found new ones discreetly and easily. After orders were placed, Patrick met John once a week to collect the bounty.
John figured he had started to feel like they were performing the world a service as well. He and Patrick had decided to only charge enough to pay for the cost of the processing and new Lego sets for themselves and their own sons. John had taken to leaving small notes in each box.
“Enjoy.”
“Keep building"
"Keep the dream alive.”
“Remember when…”
Early on in the process, John and William went on the delivery rounds with Patrick. Each grown man they delivered a set to reacted in their own way. Some had tears in their eyes. Some shook the box to hear the pieces shuffling around and laughed at the memory.
But each man did one thing the same that day. Upon being introduced to John and William, each one shook their hand, looked in their eyes and said, “Thank you.” Most did so with big smiles, but the ones who kept a serious, solemn tone were the ones that truly moved John. They made him believe there was a cause being championed.
“How come he seemed so serious,” William asked John during one such stop as they sat back down in the rear seat of Patrick Aldous’ Land Rover and pulled the shoulder harnesses down, “isn’t he happy?”
“I’m sure he’s happy,” John said. “Some people just show it differently.
“You and your father just gave him back something that he had lost,” Patrick turned to William and said, “something that had been taken from him.” He then looked back and forth between John and William for a moment. “You should be very proud of what you and you dad are doing here, William.”
Prior to that moment, William had not been short on pride in his father. He was proud of him for surviving a horrific car accident. He was proud of his father for getting back onto his feet and walking again despite great physical pain. He was proud of how cool his dad was being and how he was so interested in being a part of his son’s life.
Yet William had never considered that his father was doing a service for people. He had never considered this endeavor an act of charity or his dad a great humanitarian. Not until this point. William was suddenly proud of his father on a whole new level as Mr. Aldous pulled away from one house on his way to another. His father was a hero to these men.
As John reached over and tousled William’s hair, William smiled. He felt proud of himself as well.
With things running so smoothly, it came as a complete surprise when John answered the secret phone line he had installed in the garage and heard a panicked Patrick Aldous on the other end.
“John,” Patrick nearly shouted. “Thank God you’re in the garage. Hide it all, John and get into the house. Get rid of whatever you can, but by all means, you can’t be out there when they arrive.”
John was confused and told Patrick as much. Then he turned to see the concerned look on William’s face. John covered the phone’s mouthpiece and told him, “Cover everything up and head inside right away.”
“I never should have trusted Henry Gilbert,” Patrick continued. “He’s such a pansy!”
“Pat, tell me what’s going on.”
“His wife found a bunch of loose pieces. What a douchebag! I mean, his kids are newborns, so the sets were just for him. I knew I shouldn’t have sold to him, but he’s a friend of my brothers. I mean, who can’t keep it a secret when your kids can’t even talk?”
“So what did he do?” John asked as William hurried about the garage.
“He did nothing. It’s his wife. Bitch called the police, John. What makes it worse is this happened last week and the asshat couldn’t even call me and get a heads up! I swear I’m gonna kill him when I see him.”
“What do you think the police are going to do about it?”
“They just left my house, John. I’ve got mine stashed in a floor safe that even Greg doesn’t know about. I refuse to let him see where I get them from, just so he doesn’t screw up one day, you know?”
“That’s pretty sharp,” John commented.
“Thanks,” Patrick accepted his compliment. “That’s what I mean, I can keep it quiet with a twelve year old and he can’t keep his old lady from finding it by himself?!”
“So what did the police say when they came to your house?”
“They said they had a complaint that I’d supplied illegal contraband to Henry. I said I had no idea what they were talking about and let them go through the house. They were asking questions about you, though.”
John’s heart sunk. As he watched William finish throwing the final tarp over the lab equipment, things seemed to move in slow motion. John didn’t care then about somebody coming in and taking every single Lego piece from those bins. He wasn’t worried about never being able to provide another father and son with hours of entertainment. Even the prospect of spending time in jail away from his son who he’s already lost so much time with was but a secondary concern.
John looked up to the crawl space. The city he and William had constructed was foremost on his mind. Let them take everything else, but let that stay.
John heard his name being called faintly as his head spun. He heard it over and over again.
“John! John! John!”
Finally he realized that he’d let the receiver fall from his hand to the floor. Patrick shouted his name from the earpiece.
“I’m here,” John finally said after picking it back up.
“John, I’m so sorry,but you need to be in the house, not in the garage when they arrive, do you understand?”
“I understand,” he said listlessly.
As Patrick continued, “I’m going to do everything I can. I’m going to call…” John hung up the phone and started the long, slow walk across the backyard.
William said nothing and John told him nothing. He knew William would be able to respond well, though he wished he wouldn’t have to.
They weren’t in the house five minutes before the knock came at the door. Soon enough, the men in suits who John invited in to search his home found the Millenium Falcon in William’s closet. And soon enough, John was agreeing to go into the station and answer questions. He was led to the rear seat of the police car that would drive him to the building where he would spend several hours in an interview room.
John sat there, noting that the room looked more similar to the cop drama shows than he ever would have imagined. As he did, he pictured the tears in William’s eyes as he had helped him to the car. John refused to let anyone else take his arm and support him but his son and the image of the strong, silent tears in his son’s eyes broke his heart.
“I’ll be right back,” John had told his son.
“What’s this about, dad,” William had asked for the benefit of those listening.
Just like I taught him, thought John.
When the detective that was to interrogate John entered the room, he said nothing. He just glared. He stared daggers into John with his brow furrowed beneath his close cut flattop.
“How old are you,” John asked without thinking. The man’s demeanor, posture, apparent athleticism made John feel that this man was too young to be any good at this job. He imagined grizzled veterans talking to felons like himself. Having sat in the room by himself for three hours hadn’t helped his demeanor any.
“I’ll ask the questions,” the detective growled. “How much money do you make selling those things?”
“Selling what things?”
The stare came again. “You know damn well what I’m talking about.”
John stared blankly back at him.
“Well?”
“I don’t make any money selling anything. My son had that Lego set from the time before I was in my accident. He kept it to remember me. I lost six years.”
The detective’s face became soft and concerned. He pulled up a chair and sat across from John at the table, leaning across it toward him as if he was about to try and hold John’s hands to comfort him. “I understand,” he said. “You had spent so much time away from him. And I bet your medical bills have been through the roof. Who wouldn’t try and find some sort of supplemental income to try and make ends meet?”
John leaned back in his chair in near disgust. “That has to be the fastest transition from bad cop to good cop ever,” he said. “Isn’t that technique supposed to be a two man routine?”
The flat-topped detective stood and let the chair beneath him fall to the floor. “Listen,” he shouted and pointed a finger at John, “you’re looking at a federal charge. You may as well tell the truth now. Once we notify the feds and they start questioning you, you’ll be begging to have me back.”
“I mean no disrespect,” John said, “I just…”
But before he could finish, a uniformed man who looked much more like the type of man John had expected to be interrogated by entered the room. From the clean white shirt and gold on his collar, John guessed he was this man’s supervisor.
“Detective Lundegaard, you are relieved. I’ll take it from here,” he said in a very official manner.
The detective was left to say nothing but a quiet, “Yes, sir,” as he shuffled from the room.
The new man stared at John a while. He didn’t mind as much, however. This man seemed to be trying to figure something out about John rather than kill him with his stare.
“Mister Huxley, I’m Captain McCarthy.”
“Nice to meet you, sir.”
“I am here to tell you that you are free to go.”
John didn’t know what to say. He actually looked around the room. Even he didn’t know what he was looking for, perhaps a witness or a hidden blooper camera. “Really?”
“Yes sir,” the Captain said plainly. “It would seem that the only evidence we have is an angry wife making accusations with a husband who refuses to corroborate her story and a single Lego set which we were able to confirm was produced before any of the current federal regulations were in place. So, while we will have to inventory it, it’s mere possession doesn’t violate any laws.”
“So, I can leave?” John asked, afraid to get up.
“You can,” the Captain smiled, “unless you’d like to stay.”
John stood slowly, pressing on the table to get to his feet. When the Captain offered to help, John refused.
“Is my son here by any chance?” he asked.
William was sent for and hugged his father before he helped him out of the room. “They took the Falcon, dad,” he said. “I asked them not to, but they took it.”
“It’s okay, buddy,” John said and placed his hand on William’s cheek. “It’s just a toy.”
John saw Sara waiting in the hallway. He knew he would have an awful lot of explaining to do. But, at least he was going home. John decided he would scrap the whole thing. Whatever Legos they had left would be used for their town in the upper level of the garage. No more selling sets to anyone else.
“Mister Huxley,” Captain McCarthy called after John. John stopped and turned. “A moment please,” the Captain continued and approached John. Gently and courteously, the Captain took John’s arm from William and ushered him towards his mother.
“The property your son is concerned over, regrettably, had to be inventoried," he said to John. "But there is a ninety day hold we put on all evidence that is unclaimed before we dispose of it. I might be able to direct it back to its rightful owner once those ninety days have expired."
John hoped the coded message he just heard meant the Lego Millenium Falcon would be returned eventually, but didn't want to push. Going home was all he could ask for right now.
"You see, we have a mutual friend,” the Captain explained. “Be sure to let Patrick know I said hello.” Then he winked at John.
“I certainly will.”
“I’m sure he’ll be in touch with you soon on my behalf.” And with that, the Captain waved for William to return to his father’s side and walked away.
John Huxley walked out the front door of the police station with the help of his son four hours after he had walked in. As he left, he saw Detective Lundegaard off to the left of the front door. He was standing next to a large white metal cylinder, smoking a cigarette.
As he stared at John, John turned and asked Sara, “You’re telling me there’s nothing wrong with that?”
“There most certainly is,” Sara answered. “That’s an old cigarette receptacle. Using an outdated model like that could be a fire hazard.”
The End
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