Pulp! 2

Chapter 13

Rob drops Sarah and me off at Home Depot while he and Edge head to the local Price Chopper Supermarket for “supplies”, which no doubt include a case of beer, a bottle of Jack Daniels, and half a dozen packs of cigarettes for Edge. After they swing around to pick us back up, we’ll have to decide on a safe house which, according to Sarah, might as well constitute the local Extend Stay America located near the airport. Makes sense, too, since we’ll only be around for one night.

With me being the sandhog and excavating expert of the team, Sarah takes my lead when it comes to buying the tools of the trade required for digging a body up by hand. Under normal circumstances, we would have to find ourselves a backhoe. No way we’d be able to dig an eight-by-four-foot hole six feet down by hand without getting caught. It would simply take far too long.

I’ve only performed an exhumation once in my life, and even then, under perfectly legal circumstances. The body being excavated just happened to be my father. In his case, I was authorized by cemetery caretakers to utilize the old JCB backhoe they had on hand in the maintenance shed. It took the better part of an hour to dig up that grave even with the help of the JCB. That was followed by the opening of the concrete vault with the use of heavy chains and the excavator’s powerful lifting capacity.

But from what I’d been told thus far about the old bones of Willy Winston, they had been packed inside a small wood box and reburied in a cemetery in North Albany. I wouldn’t have to worry about lifting a concrete lid weighing half a ton since the bones didn’t require the watertight sealing properties of a concrete and steel-lined vault. Also, it only made sense that the box of bones would be buried at a far shallower depth since there was no flesh and tissue left over to decompose.

All this in mind, I lead Sarah not to the area of the store where heavy-duty digging tools are housed, but instead to the more genteel gardening equipment. Stuff even an old lady could use without much trouble. I grab two spades, hand one to Sarah.

“That’s it?” she says, staring at the shiny new shovel. “Shouldn’t we also buy a pickaxe? What if we run into roots or rock or something?”

“The bones were only reburied a few days ago. I’m guessing the ground is still soft. We could probably get away with using a little kid’s sandbox tools.”

She nods. “Okay then,” she says. “What else? Flowery garden gloves?”

“Ha ha,” I fake laugh. “Come on. I’ll show you, wise-ass.”

She turns quick, gives me a wink. “You can’t take your eyes off my a*s, Baker,” she says.

Chase the snagged.

We head to an aisle that has flashlights and portable lamps. I grab a six-watt portable battery powered LED lamp and accompanying battery pack.

“We’ll need some light to dig by,” I say. “And it’s only thirty bucks. I’m sure Edge won’t mind the investment since he’s liable to multiply it by one million in the very near future. That is, we get lucky.”

Chase the hopeful.

“We done here?” Sarah says.

“Yup,” I say, “we’re done.”

We bring the stuff up to the counter, pay for it with cash. The kid behind the register looks up at us, smiles.

“You guys digging a tunnel?” he says. “I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to dig your way into a bank vault or something like that.”

“Actually, a bank vault wouldn’t make sense,” I say, “since there’d be a concrete floor and an alarm system.”

“Oh yeah,” he says, his young face taking on a perplexed expression. “Never thought of that. Course, you could do it using explosives.”

I bite down on my bottom lip. “Very true,” I say. “But what we’re actually up to is robbing a grave.”

Sarah looks at me alarmed and wide-eyed.

The kid pauses for a second, then grins and laughs.

“You’re just pulling my leg,” he says.

Sarah laughs along with him. “Of course we are,” she says. “My husband is quite the jokester, aren’t you, honey?” She pinches my left forearm with the fingers of her right hand. I pull my arm away, rub the wound without looking too obvious.

“Ouch,” I whisper under my breath.

The kid rings us out, and we take our stuff with us out the door.

“Really,” Sarah says, as we make our way back out to the parking lot. “We’re going to rob a grave? What kind of i***t admits to pulling a stunt like that?”

“We do,” I point out. “That kid isn’t about to believe us. We’re two responsible-looking adults. I was just having a little fun with him.”

She shakes her head. “Hope you’re right. I don’t feel very good about this.”

Over my left shoulder, I see the Jeep pulling up. Edge is sitting in the back, drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette. Rob is behind the wheel. He’s got a bag of cool ranch Doritos open, and he’s methodically eating them one by one. He’s got the munchies no doubt.

“You got the shovels,” Edge barks. “Let’s go rob us a grave and get rich.”

I glance at Sarah.

“You’re right,” I say. “Maybe we both should be a little nervous about this operation.”