digging.”
I dialed Drake’s number, and got his answering machine, but before I could leave a message he came on the line, panting.
“Some men are here from the city,” I began.
“You got me out of the shower for that?”
"They have a Bobcat and a dump truck, and they’re going to take everything away.”
Drake’s reaction was loud and colorful. I held the receiver away from my ear. “Don’t let them start,” he said feverishly. “I'll be right there. Keep them from starting.”
“You want me to throw my body in front of the Bobcat?” I spoke to the dial tone. Drake had hung up.
Stewart was still conferring with Doug when I went back out. Sam and Corky were arguing about how the scoop on the Bobcat worked. Sam went inside and came back out with The Big Book of Trucks. They put their heads together over this impressive reference work.
I went down to talk to the men. Shaking his head, Stewart climbed into the Bobcat’s seat. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said when I came closer. “Doug’s work order says the same as mine—all debris to be removed. Even got a dump permit.”
“I’ve spoken to the detective in charge. He doesn’t want you to disturb the site.” I pointed to the pieces of bone that stuck out of the pile. “Those are human bones. He thinks someone was deliberately buried there years ago, and the police have to make sure there was no foul play involved.”
“A body!” Stewart seemed disbelieving. “Nobody said anything about this to Doug and me. We’re just trying to do our jobs, ma’am. If you’d step aside?” He put on a pair of protective earmuffs and started up the Bobcat. The noise was terrific. The scoop clanked a warning.
Drake’s battered car pulled up, nose-to-nose with the dump truck. He jumped out, waved me away, and charged around to Stewart’s side, shouting something. Stewart shrugged, indicating the noise protectors he wore. Drake took out his ID folder and waved it in Stewart’s face. I had rarely seen him in such a passion.
The racket stopped. I went back and opened the front door, so I could hear any sounds of waking from inside. Corky, Sam, and I kept Barker on the front porch by the simple expedient of sitting along the top step. I read from The Big Book of Trucks, learning more about diesel engines in the process than I had room for in my brain.
After intense negotiations, Drake pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and made a call, then gave the phone to Stewart, who talked for a while and then handed the phone back to Drake. The two men shook hands, then Stewart talked to Doug while Drake came toward the house. The dump truck rumbled away, much to Corky and Sam’s dismay.
“Aren’t they going to dump anything?”
“Aunt Liz, where’s that Bobcat guy going?”
Stewart, ambling up the sidewalk toward the parked truck-trailer, waved at the boys. “Next time,” he called. Drake gave him a tight smile. He didn’t sit down on the steps until Stewart had reinstalled the Bobcat on the trailer and driven away.
Then he collapsed on the step below me. “Whew. Close call.”
“What brought them out here, anyway?”
“Somebody got the wires crossed and issued a demolition permit instead of the work order I asked for.” Drake smiled at me. “Thanks for being on top of it, Liz. I guess I’ll just camp out here until we get this sewed up.” He grinned at Corky and Sam. “I hear there are places around that bring Chinese food right to your house. How does that sound?”
It sounded fine to the boys. “It’s not dinnertime yet, Drake.”
“Believe me,” he said, squeezing my hand gently before heading for the phone, “before I’m through here, it will be.”
Chapter 7
Drake took over the kitchen. He took calls on his cell phone, made calls on Bridget’s phone, and covered the kitchen table with a blizzard of notes scribbled on every loose bit of paper he could find.
I helped Corky and Sam in the living room. They were building a
I dialed Drake’s number, and got his answering machine, but before I could leave a message he came on the line, panting.
“Some men are here from the city,” I began.
“You got me out of the shower for that?”
"They have a Bobcat and a dump truck, and they’re going to take everything away.”
Drake’s reaction was loud and colorful. I held the receiver away from my ear. “Don’t let them start,” he said feverishly. “I'll be right there. Keep them from starting.”
“You want me to throw my body in front of the Bobcat?” I spoke to the dial tone. Drake had hung up.
Stewart was still conferring with Doug when I went back out. Sam and Corky were arguing about how the scoop on the Bobcat worked. Sam went inside and came back out with The Big Book of Trucks. They put their heads together over this impressive reference work.
I went down to talk to the men. Shaking his head, Stewart climbed into the Bobcat’s seat. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said when I came closer. “Doug’s work order says the same as mine—all debris to be removed. Even got a dump permit.”
“I’ve spoken to the detective in charge. He doesn’t want you to disturb the site.” I pointed to the pieces of bone that stuck out of the pile. “Those are human bones. He thinks someone was deliberately buried there years ago, and the police have to make sure there was no foul play involved.”
“A body!” Stewart seemed disbelieving. “Nobody said anything about this to Doug and me. We’re just trying to do our jobs, ma’am. If you’d step aside?” He put on a pair of protective earmuffs and started up the Bobcat. The noise was terrific. The scoop clanked a warning.
Drake’s battered car pulled up, nose-to-nose with the dump truck. He jumped out, waved me away, and charged around to Stewart’s side, shouting something. Stewart shrugged, indicating the noise protectors he wore. Drake took out his ID folder and waved it in Stewart’s face. I had rarely seen him in such a passion.
The racket stopped. I went back and opened the front door, so I could hear any sounds of waking from inside. Corky, Sam, and I kept Barker on the front porch by the simple expedient of sitting along the top step. I read from The Big Book of Trucks, learning more about diesel engines in the process than I had room for in my brain.
After intense negotiations, Drake pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and made a call, then gave the phone to Stewart, who talked for a while and then handed the phone back to Drake. The two men shook hands, then Stewart talked to Doug while Drake came toward the house. The dump truck rumbled away, much to Corky and Sam’s dismay.
“Aren’t they going to dump anything?”
“Aunt Liz, where’s that Bobcat guy going?”
Stewart, ambling up the sidewalk toward the parked truck-trailer, waved at the boys. “Next time,” he called. Drake gave him a tight smile. He didn’t sit down on the steps until Stewart had reinstalled the Bobcat on the trailer and driven away.
Then he collapsed on the step below me. “Whew. Close call.”
“What brought them out here, anyway?”
“Somebody got the wires crossed and issued a demolition permit instead of the work order I asked for.” Drake smiled at me. “Thanks for being on top of it, Liz. I guess I’ll just camp out here until we get this sewed up.” He grinned at Corky and Sam. “I hear there are places around that bring Chinese food right to your house. How does that sound?”
It sounded fine to the boys. “It’s not dinnertime yet, Drake.”
“Believe me,” he said, squeezing my hand gently before heading for the phone, “before I’m through here, it will be.”
Chapter 7
Drake took over the kitchen. He took calls on his cell phone, made calls on Bridget’s phone, and covered the kitchen table with a blizzard of notes scribbled on every loose bit of paper he could find.
I helped Corky and Sam in the living room. They were building a
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