Excerpt
Barrett drove as before. Neither of us talked, but it was an oddly companionable silence.
We pulled in through the estate gates. He followed the long drive up to a point, then veered off, the Studibaker's wheels churning uncertainly over the snow-caked lawn toward the site of the old house's excavation. What the hell?
He cut the motor, shrugging a little in response to my look. "I'll explain. If you would come with me . . . ?"
The deepest night is like daylight to us, but he dug a flashlight from the trunk. Skirting the big piles of raw earth and mud-smeared trash, we moved closer to the pit, the heavy digging equipment looming like snoozing elephants. The wind had picked up and whistled a freezing note in my ears. I hunched futilely against its annoyance.
"This was dreadful work," he said. "Brought back such a lot of unpleasant memories."
All I could think was, that despite what he'd said earlier, he might have some archaic debt of honor to settle with me. Guys from his century fought duels for less. He could be planning to cosh me on the noggin and drop what was left into the deep end. A few minutes with the bulldozer would finish the job.
"I need your advice."
So he'd said earlier. At the first sudden move I'd vanish.
"I left it here."
In a broad space between the big machines was a roughly folded tarp with the remains of cut rope dangling from its eyelets. That must have come from the back porch where it previously covered the summer furniture. When I drew breath to ask a question the stink of decomposition hit me between the eyes.
He pulled the tarp away, revealing an oblong wooden tool box. He squatted next to the box and opened it. The inside was packed to the top with snow. It being so cold and with the tarp for shade, there wasn't much melting.
Barrett brushed snow from something about the size of a loaf of bread. With thumb and forefinger and no small distaste, he picked out the mud-smeared object from its icy nest and set it down across one corner of the box. Just so there was no doubt about what he wanted to show, he played the flashlight's beam over the thing.
It was a man's shoe—with the foot still in it.