Mo’s cameraman moved forward, too, capturing the scene as it unfolded.
“What the hell is that?” Trae yelled, pointing at the pit.
“That,” the truck driver said, gingerly walking up to the edge, both hands clamped over his nose and mouth as he stared down into the abyss, “is a septic tank.”
42
Buried Secrets
Hattie gagged and staggered away as an overwhelming stench filled the air.
“Oh, hell no,” Leetha said loudly. “Momo, you know I did not sign up for this.”
“Oh my God,” Mo muttered. “And I thought this day couldn’t get any worse.”
The cameraman looked at him for direction and he signaled for him to keep filming. “Get in there, man. It doesn’t get any grittier than this.”
Mo pointed at Hattie, who’d pulled her shirttail up to cover her nose. “Talk.”
Hattie dropped her shirttail and followed his direction. “That has to be the original septic tank on this property. I think the city ran sewer lines down Chatham Avenue years and years ago. At least we know it’s not, uh, active.” She turned to Cass.
“What do we do now?”
“Who knows? We’ve uncovered all kinds of weird, uh, shit, I mean, stuff, over the years, but I think this is the first time we’ve crashed a dumpster into an old septic tank.”
She walked out of camera range and began working the contacts in her phone. In the meantime, the driver went back to the cab of his truck and retrieved his own phone and proceeded to walk slowly around the dumpster, documenting the carnage. “My boss ain’t gonna believe this.”
* * *
The trucking company supervisor’s name was Milt. Hattie knew this because his name was embroidered on the breast pocket of his work shirt. He’d arrived at the scene prepared with a rolled-up T-shirt fastened around the lower half of his face, and now he was assessing the situation.
“Here’s what happened,” Milt said, turning, as Mo requested, toward the camera. “There was an old manhole cover right here.” He stomped his foot on the ground to emphasize the point. “It was covered up with probably twenty years of dirt and leaves and what have you.” He pointed to the dumpster driver, who stood uneasily at his side. “You managed to back the trailer with that dumpster over just this exact spot, and damn if the whole thing didn’t collapse, manhole, rebar, concrete, and all.”
Hattie had also been coached. “How are you going to get the dumpster out of there? And what do we do with the old septic tank once it’s out?”
The T-shirt muffled Milt’s laughter. “Well, ma’am. This old boy and me,” he slapped the driver’s back, “we’re gonna reattach the winch to the front bumper of the truck and then we’re gonna gun it and pray to the sweet baby Jesus that it will work.”
“Oh.” Hattie acted like this was exactly the response she expected.
“As to what happens after we get it out of there? Well, we’ll reset the dumpster. But what you do with that stinky old septic tank after that? Not my problem.”
* * *
They found Trae sitting under the catering tent, his face pale beneath the makeup.
“Gruesome,” he said, when Hattie and Cass and Mo walked up. “Utterly gruesome.” He shuddered to emphasize the point.
The other three sank down onto the chairs around the table. “This is the day that will not end,” Mo said, as the others nodded in agreement.
“However, disgusting as this latest development is, we still have a full shooting schedule. I want to move upstairs this afternoon. Trae, is the upstairs bathroom ready for tile?”
“I still need to pick out the new faucets and showerheads, and we need a commode, too.”
“I’ll call Sandpiper, that’s the plumbing supply showroom in town,” Cass said. “They’ll be expecting you. But Trae, you’ve got to pick something they either have in stock or can get right away. Nothing fancy, no custom finishes. And they close at four, so you’d better get going.”
“What are we doing in those upstairs bedrooms?” Leetha asked.
“I’ve got my guys framing out two smaller closets on either side of the doorway. We could shoot that this afternoon. I’ve got two pairs of chippy old shutters we’ll use for closet doors,” Hattie said. “As soon as the closets are in, we can paint in there.”
“What about the back bedroom?” Leetha asked.
“The guys have already cut the lumber and dry-fitted the new sets of bunk beds,” Hattie said. “The lockers I salvaged from an old elementary school will go in there too. They just get bolted to the wall. With any luck, we could get to all that after they’re finished with the closets.”