Page 3 of The Forsaken
“It’s all right, Grandma Phoebe, I’m finished,” Emma said and slid off her chair. “I’ll go to my room.”
Emma ran off, leaving Gabe and Quinn to stare at the phone.
“Mum?” Gabe prompted.
Phoebe took a shuddering breath. “The water in the kitchen sink wouldn’t go down,” she said. “I tried to pour that special liquid down the sink, but it didn’t help. The water kept backing up, and it was brown and muddy.”
“Go on,” Gabe encouraged her. Phoebe had a habit of starting from afar. Very far.
“I called the plumber. Do you remember Peter Reed? Pamela’s boy. You two went to primary school together.”
“Yes, I remember Peter. Did he fix the sink?”
“Well, Peter said there was an obstruction, so he got this long metal rod and tried to push it through,” Phoebe explained.
“Mum, is Peter lying on the kitchen floor as we speak?” Gabe asked.
“No, why would you think such a thing?”
“Because you said there’s a body in the kitchen, and if it’s not Buster, then who else can it be but Peter?” Gabe replied patiently.
“Now you’re just being silly.”
“Am I?”
“Of course. Peter left hours ago.”
Gabe closed his eyes and took a deep breath, obviously praying for patience. “Mum, who is dead?”
“Well, I don’t know, do I?”
“Well, I certainly don’t,” Gabe snapped.
“I would be happy to tell you if you’d stop interrupting me, Gabriel,” Phoebe chastised him. “Where were we?”
“The long metal rod.”
“Ah, yes. Well, Peter tried to clear the obstruction, but said it was much deeper than the rod could reach. He said that the pipe would need to be replaced. He had to break the kitchen floor to get to it.” Phoebe exhaled loudly. “He made quite a hole. Much larger than was strictly necessary, if you ask me.”
“Did he find the problem?”
“Eventually. A tree root had grown through the pipe and caused a blockage. That’s the tree just beyond the kitchen garden. It really is a lovely old thing,” Phoebe went on. “I do love when it changes colors in the autumn. So beautiful. Your father loved that tree. Never wanted to prune the branches, not even when they started to bang against the window in the wind.”
“Mum, the body,” Gabe prompted gently.
“Right. Well, when Peter broke the floor and made the hole much wider than he should have, he saw it.”
“Saw what?”
“The elbow.”
“Whose elbow?”
“The body’s elbow, Gabe. Pay attention.”
Gabe looked like he was about to bang his head against the wall, but he took a steadying breath and summarized the situation in the most economical way possible. “So, Peter broke the kitchen floor and stumbled on a body. I’m assuming he called the police, who came and went, since if the burial was recent, they’d likely still be there, processing the crime scene. Given that the burial is not recent, these must be skeletal remains that you’d like me to excavate and remove from the kitchen. Am I correct?”
“Isn’t that what I said?”
