by P.D. Workman
* * *
Ursula looked at the work that she had accomplished so far. It was going to take her almost as long to fill in Abe’s bunker at it had taken him to dig it. You’d think it would be easy to push the dirt back into the hole, but it was a lot more challenging than it looked. There was a virtual mountain of dirt in the back yard, not including the rocks and boulders that had been placed in the corner. Ursula wasn’t sure what she was going to do about them. At least Abe had not been able to start pouring concrete. Ursula wasn’t sure what she would do then. Could you just fill it in once it was lined with concrete?
She rested for a minute, catching her breath, taking off her gloves to see whether she was developing blisters yet. Her hands were sore, but no blisters as yet. Sighing, she picked up the shovel and started working again. Her back ached and protested, not used to all of this manual labor.
“Think about how nice your muscles will look,” Ursula said out loud, not letting her body talk her into stopping. “This is a very good workout. Maybe once it’s filled in, I’ll even try digging it out again.”
She laughed. The sound was hollow in the still back yard. People were going to start worrying about her, talking and laughing to herself. Ursula threw a few more shovels full of dirt into the hole in silence. She dug in the shovel again, and hit something under that dirt that wasn’t a rock. It was soft, but solid, and she wasn’t close enough to the ground to be hitting turf yet. Ursula scooped dirt off the top, then dragged the shovel through the dirt to try to find the edges of the object. She stuck the shovel blade under the edge and tried to lever it up. An arm and hand burst through the surface of the dirt, making her scream and jump back. She stared at the hand, waiting for it to move, but it lay there still in the dirt, not making any movement on its own. It was a man’s hand, not a woman’s. The blunt, wide fingers were an odd gray-pink color, dirty, motionless. A smell permeated the area around the arm and hand. Ursula tried to make out the shape under the dirt. Was it a whole body? Dismembered parts? The decomp smell had been hidden before, faint beneath the smell of the dirt she was moving, but now it was strong, nauseating her. Staying as far away from the arm as possible, Ursula went into the house.
“Mom, do you want me to make supper?” Juneau questioned, coming into the kitchen.
“No. I need you to get the kids and take them next door, and stay over there.”
Juneau’s eyes widened in alarm.
“What’s going on?” She questioned. "What’s wrong?”
“Never mind. Go get them and take them over to Smythes, next door.”
Juneau nodded, and turned to go upstairs, looking back over her shoulder once, nervously. Ursula waited for her to get the younger children and come back down. Crispin and Meggie were looking scared.
“What is it, Mommy?” Meggie demanded.
“I need you to do what I ask. Don’t ask me about it. Don’t worry. Just go on and do it.”
“Come on, now,” Juneau told the children, grabbing Meggie’s hand. “Let’s go crash the Smythes.”
She hurried them out of the house, not pressing Ursula with any further questions. Ursula took a breath, and called the police.
Ursula watched the police coming and going in the back yard, trying not to imagine what they were finding. She had been asked to stay inside, which she would have done anyway. Sooner or later, they would want to talk to her, to ask her uncomfortable questions. They had to try to sort out what had happened and how the body had ended up in her back yard.
There was a loud rap at the back door, and Ursula went to answer it, but the petitioner didn’t wait. The door opened, and Special Agent Lovett walked in. Ursula didn’t know how to greet him. She stood there looking at him.
“Mind if I come in?” Lovett questioned dryly.
Ursula nodded, and motioned for him to come into the living room. Lovett looked around thoughtfully, then sat down across from where Ursula sat herself.
“This is quite the twist,” he said.
Ursula rolled her eyes, trying not to let emotion overcome her.
“What is going on?” she questioned. "None of this makes any sense.”
“How many details do you want?”
Ursula gulped.
“Not very much, actually. Was it… a whole body? Or parts…?”
“Whole thing.”
“Only one?”
Lovett nodded.
“Just one. Any idea how it got back there?”
“I’m guessing you don’t think he just tripped in the night and fell into the dirt pile,” Ursula said.
“Fraid not. He was murdered. Shot and a blow to the head. Coroner will have to tell us which came first, and which killed him.”
“I don’t understand… it doesn’t make any sense at all.”
“Do you think,” Lovett said delicately, “there is any chance… that you husband had anything to do with this? Is there any chance…?”
“No, none. He’s never been violent. Confused, paranoid, but never violent. Not even on a break. Never.”
“The man in the dirt back there, he was a small-time jewel thief.”
“What?”
“His name is Daryl Bacardi. He was ex-security, used to work at an airport.”
Ursula shook her head.
“Was he a suspect in the jewel heist?” she questioned.
“Well, if he wasn’t before, he is now.”
“I know Abe couldn’t have done this. So I don’t know… who would have put him there?”
Lovett looked at her with his piercing green eyes, as if trying to read her thoughts.
“Abe was the one who dug that bunker. Who else knew about it?”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t a secret. Me and the kids. Anyone we talked to about it. The neighbors. Anyone walking within sight of the backyard.”
“It’s not exactly in plain view.”
“No, but you can see it from several different points outside the yard. If anyone was… watching or checking out the house. They could see it.”
“Are you buying into his delusions now?” Lovett questioned. "The only people watching the house are my people. We had him under surveillance. We would know if there were other people watching the house.”
“You were looking for other people watching the house?”
He paused.
“No.”
“I’m not buying into his delusions. I’m just trying to figure out how anyone could do this. If you had Abe under surveillance, then you know that he didn’t do this. You’d know if he killed someone and dragged the body into the back yard. Right?”
“We er…” Lovett cleared his throat. "We didn’t always have him in view. It was light surveillance. Just making sure that he stuck around here and his work, and wasn’t going anywhere else or planning to leave down. He is very adept at spotting and losing his tails.”
“Yeah, paranoia will do that to you,” Ursula said.
Lovett shrugged at this.
“I know it wasn’t Abe,” said Ursula. “And of course it wasn’t your people. So someone else must have been following Abe, or surveilling the house. How else would someone who knew one of the jewel thieves - or an unrelated jewel thief - just happen to hide a body in the dirt of our back yard where I would find it?”
“I think that you’re ignoring the obvious answer. They wouldn’t. No one who was involved in this operation would dare expose themselves like this. Your husband is the only logical suspect.”
Ursula couldn’t accept this. It was ridiculous.
“How would he have made contact with this jewel thief?” she questioned reasonably.
“Maybe Bacardi was part of the jewel heist and threatened to turn Abe in or something. He had to protect his reputation, stay out of jail, so he turned on his partner. It happens all the time, you know, thieves turning on each other. They’re not a particularly stable lot. There’s a reason for the saying ‘no honor among thieves’.”
“Abe wasn’t involved in the hei
st. And even if he was, he wouldn’t have done something like that.”
“He’s been on a psychotic break. He’s not himself.”
“It’s just not possible. I’m telling you.”
Lovett made a wide motion with his hands, indicating that he heard her argument but didn’t accept it.
“We’re going to have to bring him in for questioning.”
Ursula nodded.
“You have to do what you have to do.”
“Where are we most likely to find him?”
“Well, he’s not here. You should ask your surveillance team.”
He chuckled and stood.
“I will do that,” he agreed.
