SHADE FRIGHT

Chapter 6

When I returned to my condo, there was a message from Dave on my voice mail, saying that he'd hoped I could sleep over at his place, as he'd been experimenting with his new set of Greek cookbooks again. While the prospect of a gourmet meal and a quiet evening in front of the television sounded appealing, the fact whatever was inside that hole at Orlowski's farm had spewed a human skull and pelvis at me suggested that I'd have to take a rain check. I called Dave back and broke the news to him, and being the good sport that he is, he didn't kick up a fuss.

"Got your message," I said. "Are you on the road?"

"Naaa, just pulling into Demarco's," he said, turning down the stereo in his dump truck. "So are you up for a fabulous night of Greek food and possibly a DVD?"

I bit my lip; it sounded wonderful, but the nausea in the pit of my stomach was just starting to subside and I had to consult with Fifty-Dollar Bill.

"Something came up," I sighed. "Remember that advertisement you circled in the Meteor?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, it's a doozy... hey I have a question about ditch digging."

"I drive a dump truck," Dave said, sourly. "It's more glamorous than driving a front end loader, you know."

"Gotcha... well, you're the closest thing I know to a heavy equipment operator, so I was just wondering, how fast can a backhoe dig a hole in the ground?"

"Hmm... assuming the ground isn't frozen, I've seen them dig a ten foot deep hole in about five minutes... why?"

"Oh, just a big hole in the ground where that farmer's grain bin used to be, that's all."

"As in how big?" Dave asked.

"Big." I said, cryptically.

Dave let out an amused chuckle, and I heard a loud hiss, so I assumed he'd just parked his truck.

"You sound like you're trying to get your head around one of those unnatural occurrences."

"You sound like you're starting to understand the woman in your life," I laughed, in a lusty voice. "If you're nice to me, I might just perform some unnatural acts on you when I'm done this case."

"Promises," Dave snickered. "So what you're saying is I'm going to be snuggling up to my body pillow until I hear from you again, is that it?"

"Yeah, sorry about that — but this is what I do for a living."

"Are you going to be a target for another one of those mysterious assassins? You know I worry about you."

"Hopefully not," I said, trying to sound confident when my gut told me that whatever was down in that hole would probably take a shot at me. "Anyway, I'll take some precautions."

"Do so," Dave said, sternly. "Hey, I lo — "

"Do not say that word to me for the first time over the phone, Dave," I lectured. "We need to say it to each other face to face... ideally when I'm corrupting you."

"Is that a promise?" he teased.

"Count on it... look, I have to go. Call you tonight."

Dave let out a disappointed sounding sigh. "Talk to you then," he said.

I hung up the phone and dropped my satchel on the kitchen counter. A small cloud of Orlowski's topsoil drifted into the air, filling my nostrils and causing my stomach to heave again.

"You know, that kind of language is pure filth, Valerie," Bill snipped, in a disgusted tone. "Men and women never talked dirty like that in my day..."