Jigsaw

Tuesday morning, October 12

Elvira Oakridge unlocked the door to the Town of Arkham Welfare Office and stared openmouthed at her desk. There, lying in the middle of it, was a large interoffice dispatch envelope. "Well, I *never*...!" she said to herself. "I know I cleaned that desk off and dusted it Friday before I left. Who could have been so forward as to come into *my* office and leave junk like that on *my* desk?" Angrily she tossed the envelope onto a sideboard and went to the break room to get herself some tea.

"Oh, Ms. Oakridge," a young female voice hailed her.

"Yes, Ellen, what is it?" Elvira responded somewhat impatiently.

"The sheriff wants your decisions on those placements as soon as possible."

"Placements? What placements?"”

"The folders he left on your desk. They came in overnight, and he wants them taken care of at your earliest convenience."

Elvira smiled coolly at Ellen. It's not the messenger’s fault, she sternly reminded herself. "Yes, thank you, Ellen, I'll get on it as soon as I have a chance." She returned to fixing her tea. Honestly, you'd think a body had nothing better to do than to cowtow to their demands: do this, do that, I want it yesterday. What did they think she *did* with her time, sit and twiddle her thumbs? Then a thought occurred to her: Ellen must have been referring to whatever was in that dispatch envelope that had been left on her desk. Whoever had left it there had some nerve, cluttering up her nice clean desk with paperwork first thing in the morning.

She got back to her office, retrieved the envelope from where she had tossed it and carefully set her mug of tea down on the upper lefthand corner. Then she sat down, opened the envelope, extracted three folders, and sighed. She recognized the names - it was the three children who had been orphaned in the crash up in the mountains over the weekend. She took a sip of tea and began to read. Each folder contained all the pertinent vital information on each child: name, date of birth, Social Security number, level of education, school record and so forth. There was also a report on the accident, detailing the extent of each child’s injuries. And someone had done a quick background check on each one. It seems the middle one had been having behavioral problems lately. Drat, these children were not going to be easy to place. The oldest one wouldn’t be hard; he was diagnosed as paraplegic, and would probably never walk again. He could go into the county extended-care facility, and that would be the end of that. Let them deal with him. But the rest.... Oh, *why* did Mr. Scordo have to go and get himself arrested? If he were here now, he could advise her what to do, and this wouldn’t be nearly so trying!

She sighed again, got up from her desk and went to a filing cabinet. After rifling through a couple of different drawers, she drew out half a dozen folders. She took them back to her desk, sat down and began to read. The folders she had taken from the filing cabinet were records of families in the township that had been investigated and approved as foster parents. The first one she looked at was Herbert and Cynthia Kline. Good track record; they had two foster children in their care. No, they would not be suitable in this case. They spent a lot of time traveling, and she did not believe that would be a suitable environment for either one of the two remaining children, particularly the one with behavioral problems. Jordan and Mary Eccles. He managed the bank in Arkham; she taught third and fourth grades at the school. Affiliated with the Fundamentalist Church of Christ. Good disciplinary records. That one might do for the one with behavioral problems.

The next folder she looked at was the one on the Robesons, and immediately withdrew them from consideration. They had too many children already; they would be overburdened with even one more. Then she opened the folder on Ingrid and Barry Samuelson. Farmers in the township - she didn't go any further. A farm would be the *perfect* environment for the younger one. He was accustomed to bussing to school anyway; this would mean just a bit longer of a trip. She smiled to herself in satisfaction. Well, that hadn't been so difficult after all. She selected several pads of forms relating to the assignment of guardianship of children no longer able, for one reason or another, to live with their natural parents. In the case of the oldest one, the facility he would be going to had their own set of paperwork that would need to be filled out. She assembled the forms into groups and began meticulously preparing one set for each child. She prepared each form in the original, and would make Xerox copies when she was finished. It was just too much of a nuisance to try to press hard enough to make sure all those carbon copies would be clear enough. There had to be a copy for the Welfare Office records, one for the hospital, one for the Sheriff’s Department, one for the Family Court Office, one for the designated guardian, and as a courtesy, one would be given to each child. As soon as she finished, she assembled the forms into proper order, then she picked up the phone, made three phone calls, then put on her hat and coat, and left to pay a visit to the hospital.

"Hello, I'm Elvira Oakridge, from the Town Welfare Office," she said to the gentleman at the front desk, putting enough emphasis on her position to make sure he knew to expedite her. "I'm here to see three children that you have listed as patients here." She handed him a list she had made of the children's names, date of admission, and cause for hospitalization.

The receptionist looked up with a barely concealed 'so?' expression on his face. He had dealt with Social Services before, and knew what a pain in the ass this woman could be. He dug in and psyched himself up for a fight. He wasn’t going to give her any more than he absolutely had to if he could help it. But he was polite enough as he took the slip from her and helpfully listed each child’s room number next to his name. He handed the slip back to her and said with a sunny smile, "There you go. Have a nice day."

"No, young man, you don't understand. I need to meet with these children in a group. I have some information that is vital to their futures, and I haven't the time to see each one of them individually."

Too bad, lady, take it or leave it, the desk clerk wanted to say. Instead he said aloud, "I'm sorry ma'am, but I'm afraid that won't be possible. They were just admitted late Sunday night. I'm not at liberty to discuss details of their situations with anyone but family members, and you obviously are not a family member. But I can tell you that they cannot be moved at the present time."

"Sonny, this hospital is a public institution," Elvira informed him coldly, "and as such it is required to cooperate with the requirements of other public officials."

The desk clerk grinned. "Not if it conflicts with what the hospital deems are the best interests of the patients, it's not," he shot back.

"Give me the name of your supervisor," Elvira demanded. "I'm going to report this insolence, and see that you get subjected to disciplinary action. Your behavior is atrocious. Why they allow youngsters like you in a position to deal with the public is beyond me!"

He took another slip of paper and wrote down the name of the hospital administrator and handed it to her. "Feel free, ma'am, but I think you’ll find that this is hospital policy, and that my boss will support me. I'm following hospital policy, just the way I should."

Elvira huffed. "Well! I never! Young people these days just have no respect!"

She took her slip of paper and went to find the first room on the list. Room 221. Drat! That was all the way over in the non-ambulatory wing. Oh, why couldn't the hospital have cooperated in getting the children together for her. She didn't have time for this! Her desk was still a mess, from all the paperwork she'd had to make out.

She eventually found the right room and marched in. A nurse tried to intercept her. "Ma'am, you can’t go in there! Visiting hours don't begin until after lunch."

Elvira glared at her coldly. "Young woman, I'm not 'visiting,' as you call it; I'm here on official Town business. Now if you will excuse me ..." And she pushed past the nurse to the teenager's bedside.

He was heavily sedated, and barely aware that there was someone else in the room. He did, however, catch the fact that that someone got his name wrong. "Michael Harmon McKendrick?" she queried.

"Name's 'Mickey,' not 'Michael'."

"I'm sure that's a name you are commonly known by, but you have to understand that, in the conducting of official business, diminutives are not acceptable, and we have to assure that the individual's full, legal name is in all the proper places."

Mickey'’s drugged fog was rapidly being dissipated by anger. He pulled himself up and said, "I don't know who you are, lady, but my name is *Mickey*. Says so right on my birth certificate. I was named after my father's uncle, and that was his given name. And if you don't believe me, you can go to the Town Hall and look it up!"

Oh, dear. This one may have incipient behavioral problems too. Well, the Home would deal with it. "All right, er - ah - 'Mickey,' whatever the case, my name is Mrs. Oakridge, and I’m here with some good news for you."

"Oh, I can't wait; lay it on me."

"There is a nice extended-care facility in Farmington that has assured me that they have room for you, and they will do their very best to take care of you. So just because you lost your parents, you won't have to be a crippled orphan begging a living off the streets. Doesn’t that sound nice?"

"A-a NURSING HOME?! No way, lady, get the hell out of my room! Nurse!" he called weakly, the exchange having tired him almost beyond his endurance.

"I'm sorry if you're unhappy about this, Micha - uh - Mickey, but the arrangements have been made, and you have no choice in the matter."

"Nurse!" he said again, and the young woman in the pink scrub suit appeared once again at the door and firmly escorted Elvira out of the room. She smiled to herself in satisfaction. One down and two to go. The next room on her list was 442 - the orthopedic wing.

"Jared Scott McKendrick?" she asked as she barged into the room. A nurse in blue scrubs was at his bedside taking vital signs. "You shouldn't be in here, ma'am," she said.

"I know, I know, visiting hours don't begin until after lunch," Elvira sneered. "Well, this is *official business*, and I won't take up too much of your time. Are you Jared Scott McKendrick?"

"Far as I know I still am, though when the accident happened, I wasn't too sure of anything for a while. Who're you?"

Elvira smiled, and not kindly. This kid's manners definitely needed some polishing. "I'm Ms. Oakridge, from the town welfare office, and I have good news for you. When you're ready to be discharged from here there is a nice Christian family that will be waiting for you with open arms."

"Well, I believe in God, so that won't be so bad, I suppose. Just out of curiosity, what religion are they?"

Well, at last. Here at last was one that cared enough to ask constructive questions. She opened the folder that she carried with her. "Let me see...." Elvira flipped through the many pages of the placement documents, and came to the information she wanted. "They belong to the Fundamentalist Church of Christ, and they go to church *every* Sunday. I know them from dealings I’ve had with them on previous placements, and they are good people."

Jared wasn’t so sure after hearing that. He believed in God, and didn't mind going to church, but he had heard things about those Fundamentalists. You had to go around in a suit, tie and mirror-shined shoes all the time, and they beat you if you so much as cracked a smile at the dinner table. "Uh, is there any way that can be changed? I'm not so sure I’d like it there."

Elvira smiled. "No, I'm afraid not. You see, there is currently a shortage of available foster parents, and besides, it was decided that this would be the best family for you."

"What about my brothers?"

"Oh, they will all be taken care of, you don't have to worry about that."

"B-but are they going to be there with me?"

With a scowl at the utter ridiculousness of that question, Elvira said, "Why, no, dear, don't you see how impossible that is? Your older brother will likely never walk again, you need a home where discipline is the rule, and your younger brother needs a situation where he can learn to take responsibility for himself."

"NO-o-o-o-o!" Jared moaned. "Please, we *can't* be separated! We've always been close. That'll be a fate worse 'n' death for all of us."

"Well, Jared, I'm afraid it's too late. The arrangements have been made. When you are ready to leave here, you will go to live with the Eccleses, and that's final."

As Elvira turned to leave, Jared muttered, "In a pig's eye lady. We'll all run away first, and damn the authorities."

Elvira pretended she didn’t hear that as she continued on to her last appointment. Raffy’s reaction was pretty much the same. He claimed to know nothing about farming, and didn't care to learn, because it wasn't the ambition he had for his life. And he, too, was upset that the three of them would be separated. As soon as Mrs. Oakridge left his room, he picked up the phone that was on the stand by his bed, and asked for Room 442. Mickey would probably be pretty much out of it, but Jared might be able to reach the phone in his room. It rang and was picked up. "Hello?"

"Bro?" Raffy said softly,

"That you, Raffy?"

"Yeah, it's me. Did that welfare lady come and see you yet?"

"Yeah, she was just here, why?"

"Did she tell you what they were going to do with us?"

"Boy, did she ever! And it sucks!"

"You know it, bro. What’re we gonna do?"

"I don't know, but we gotta work out a plan. I donno how much time we got, but when I'm ready to be released, I go right to this sucky fundamentalist family."

"They're sendin' me to a farm. Can you dig *that*? Imagine me on a farm. I'd go bonkers after a day."

Jared chuckled. "You got that right, bro! Okay, listen, Mickey probably won't be much help right now, but we gotta figure out a way to get us out of here soon. Come up with some ideas and get back to me, and I'll do the same."

"I got yer back, bro. I'll get back to ya."

---

Wednesday Afternoon, October 13…

"Therese Longueville, please. Tell her it’s Josiah Brewster calling."

"Just a moment, Mr. Brewster. May I tell her what you're calling about?"

"That would be *Judge* Brewster, miss, and no, you may not, as they're confidential matters I wish to discuss only with her."

"Sawree, yer honor! I'll put you right thru!"

'Amazing how a title changes some people’s attitude and tone,' Josiah thought with a wry chuckle.

"Josiah, how are you?" The voice was warm and lyrical.

"I'm doing well, Therese, my dear. But I am quite angry and looking for advice on 'working the system' at the moment."

"Oh? I would have bet long odds I'd never get a call from Josiah Brewster saying that."

"You'd have reckoned without Elvira Oakridge, then, Therese. I find myself in perhaps the silliest legal bind I’ve seen since I took the bench. And State Children's Services may have the answers I need to get myself, and some innocent kids, out of it."

"I trust you’re calling to explain that. Let me shut up and let you do it."

"Elvira is the Welfare Officer for the Town of Arkham, just upriver from here. And she owes her job to two things: she's fastidious about making out and submitting all the proper bureaucratic paperwork, and she was quite willing to lean over in any direction needed in order to please the former Town Selectman who is now spending the rest of his life in the Federation prison colony on Tantalus IV.

"The reason I'm calling is to look for help on how to reverse her decisions. We had a nasty accident here in the county last weekend: a family of five. Killed the parents and permanently crippled the oldest boy. She's sticking him in a nursing home and the two other boys with separate foster families -- and not good choices for them.”

"Well, the boys must have agreed to it; that's procedure."

"Not for Elvira. I just got back from interviewing the boys -- or at least the two that would talk to me. Apparently as soon as she got their cases, she placed them by the simple expedient of picking plausible households and making out the paperwork, then went and *told* them what they'll be doing for the rest of their childhood."

"You're joking!"

"No, I'm not. And of course, with Home Rule the hot issue that it is, if a County judge overrules a Town official, he'd better be able to prove that the Town official violated the law. Which Elvira didn't, quite - she's not *required* to consult with anyone, including the kids, in making placements. It's just understood that anyone with a lick of common sense and human decency *will*."

"So you can't override her?"

"Not according to our state laws. I'd need a legal pretext to use my powers as judge to do what I know is right and equitable. That's what I'm calling you to get help on."

“State law doesn't have a lot of precedent. Apparently most cases were good town people dealing with county judges that got their job by being well connected in their party. Of course, the U.F.P. Safe Haven Act overrules everything, up to and including the U.S. Constitution if they come in conflict. But neither of us is empowered to invoke it."

"Oh? Who can?"

"From the notes I have here, it requires a commissioned officer in Starfleet, a staff member of Federation Youth Services, or - quote - 'the Patriarch or a member acting logically' -unquote - of something called Clan Short of Vulcan, which I've never heard of. Since it's a Vulcan institution, it probably doesn't have anything to do with Earth."

"Well, I have heard of it, and it does affect Earth. As a matter of fact, if everything goes as I hope, the day may come in the not-so-distant future when one member of Clan Short will be my stepson."

"Oh, my! I had no idea you were courting again."

"You'll like Maureen; she's your kind of feisty. And her son Jonas, who was invited to join the Clan in my presence a week ago today, as it happens, was instrumental in the first instance the Act was ever invoked in the State of Maine.

"You've been an immense help, Therese. I'll be seeing them this weekend, and with any luck they'll solve the problem."