Dig

Dig – Excerpt

Chapter 1

Livvy was polishing a femur when the phone rang. She ignored it. Mother—mom—would get it. Livvy wasn’t allowed to answer the house phone anymore. Not since that cold call from that gutter cleaning company. The O’Neills were furious when some guy showed up and clambered onto their roof, but even angrier when they had to pay.

Dresses and skirts were sorted into piles according to year obtained, satchels of hair hung on hooks and boxes of bones waited to be dusted. A mason jar with a heart in water had tipped over in the corner and Livvy righted it and decided there was still enough water to keep the heart looking fresh. Ish. Each time she shifted the shoes a puff of dirt floated from the soles, as if she hadn’t dug them up years ago.

“Livvy, what in the hell are you doing?”

Her mother stood over her, a leather belt dangling between her fingers. It wasn’t the first time her mother walked around with a belt in her hand. In fact, it had become a habit after that Hanbly kid broke into the garage. She’d strung him up but claimed it was an accident. They bought it, and the belt became her mother’s go-to.

“Just reminiscing,” Livvy said. She ran her fingers through a tangle of hair, but gagged a little when a piece of scalp snagged on her finger.

“Have you robbed another grave?”

“Not recently.”

“Define recent.”

“Mom,” Livvy said as she straightened the shoes one last time. “It’s been a while.” She stood and turned around, brushing a stray hair—she wasn’t sure if it was hers or theirs—off her skirt.

“I doubt that,” her mother said, holding out the phone so Livvy could see the caller ID: Westmoreland PD.

Livvy’s shoulders sank and her voice hit that note. “Mom! It was a couple of days ago. If it’s more recent than that, it wasn’t me.” She stomped her foot as if that would make it true.

“The dirt on those is still damp,” her mother said, pointing at the beautiful red shoes Livvy had not been able to resist. Livvy had no fondness for digging in the dirt—well, maybe a little. She liked treasure hunts.

“Livvy, honey,” her mom said, handing her the phone. “Deal with it.”

Smug bitch. “It’s not fair. They’re just going to waste if they stay there.”

“I said that.”

“And?”

“The family disagreed and called police.”

“What? They’re just being mean,” Livvy said to the phone as much as to her mother.

Her mother cleared her throat, an affectation she used whenever Livvy pushed back. “Officer Jenkins thought the family might withdraw the complaint with the right incentive.”

“If I had money, I wouldn’t be taking the shoes off corpses. Just when I thought it was safe to start digging again.”

“Talk to Officer Jenkins. Maybe he can lose the paperwork for less than the family wants.” She’d heard that tone before from her mother. Hated it.

“Is there any proof the family actually complained? Jenkins is a complete—”

“Don’t say it.”

“But he’s an asshole.”

“You talk like that, yet forget to put the phone on mute. I don’t think he’s the asshole. Honey.”

Livvy hung up on Officer Jenkins. “I’ll go visit.”

She headed out the door, saying hello to Frankie who always sat on the third stair, and tapped him on the head as she passed. He cussed at her, as he always did, and she gave him the finger behind her back. He shouldn’t sit there if he didn’t want to be tapped.

The city air was rank and brown. It always was. Livvy coughed and swiped at it as if that would make it disappear. Livvy stomped on every crack—hope springs eternal—and decided the coffee shop would be the first stop on her way to the police precinct. They had terrible coffee and even worse service, but Livvy loved The Big Brew because the coffee was lukewarm. It was the only way she could carry the paper cup.

Livvy stood in line, minding her own business, when a woman of moderate age said, “Excuse me.” Livvy moved aside, but that was not what this woman wanted.

“That ring you’re wearing. My grandmother had one just like that.”

“It’s beautiful,” Livvy said, holding her hand out so the woman could get an eyeful.

“Where did you get it?”

“My father gave it to me.” He hadn’t, but the woman did not deserve honesty from Livvy. She was lucky to be acknowledged at all.

“My granny got hers from France. A honeymoon gift.”

Livvy nodded and smiled and asked for her coffee, black. Years ago, her father had prepared her to follow in his footsteps. That was before he drank himself useless. “Lovely to chat,” Livvy said as she raised her coffee to the moderately-aged woman, and walked away. She didn’t want to give the woman too much opportunity to look, or she’d have to give up this ring, too.

The city still stank as she stepped outside. She sipped her cooling coffee and let out a contented sigh. It was convenient that the coffee shop was exactly halfway between her home and the police station. It was always up to her to go to them.

In less than an hour, she was standing in the precinct lobby, asking for Officer Jenkins. She put her now cold coffee on the sergeant’s desk and sat down. They didn’t provide trash cans to the public, and she wasn’t going to carry it around with her.

“Livvy.”

“Officer Jenkins.” Livvy stood, smiled, nodded.

He blinked. Stared. Cleared his throat. Just like mother. Livvy folded her hands in front of her and waited.

“You didn’t bring the shoes.” Clever man.

Livvy held out her empty hands and shook her head. “What shoes?”

“The ones you took from Mrs. Abernathy two days ago.”

“Did not.”

“Did.”

“Not.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Did, did, did.”

“Prove it.”

When Jenkins rolled his eyes and huffed, Livvy knew she’d won. “No proof, no shoes, no payoff. You know the rules.” Livvy stared at him. He hated that.

“Stop harassing me.” Livvy turned on her heels and headed toward the door. A cold red paper cup of coffee flew past her head, hitting the wall and running down.

“Missed me.” Last words as she stepped into freedom.

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