Merriton

“Thank you for meeting with me.” The blonde woman was angular and painfully thin. Just seeing her sad, gaunt face made Bill want to eat. A strange growling in his stomach rumbled and the scent of Chili’s baby back ribs made his mouth water.

The hostess seated the two of them. The woman was quiet and Bill awkwardly tried to start the conversation. “Can’t help but think I must be in some kinda trouble Miss McCain.” The woman’s unhappy face sighed. “Please call me Sierra. I assure you that you are not in trouble. I am merely investigating the work practices of your former employer.”

The waitress interrupted them and they ordered their respective entrees. This woman was paying for the meal, so Bill felt conflicted. It had been so long since he had been to a nice restaurant like Chili’s, so he wanted to order the biggest slab of ribs on the menu, but at the same time, he worried about her paying for his meal. He didn’t want to feel beholden to her. She ordered a petite salad, so he ordered only the half slab of ribs. Just looking at her was like looking at the walking dead. It made him want to eat like a pig and take his soft wife to bed.

After the waitress left, the woman resumed, “You worked for Raymond Chandler in the early Nineties, is that correct?” Bill nodded. “Yeah. Ray was doin’ a lot of construction back then. Things were hoppin’.” He felt uncomfortable, but he tried to hide it. The waitress brought his soda and her water. He concentrated on the wrapper on the straw, carefully tearing it off with his large hands.

She continued with her questioning. “Do you remember working on a master bedroom addition to a home down south in Merriton?” Bill DID remember the job and scanned his memory. Did he do anything wrong? Did the foundation collapse or something? All he did was dig a hole and not a very deep one at that. All he answered, however, was, “Yep. Resorts hire their own, so I don’t do much work in Merriton. Makes it easy to remember.” The woman took a long sip of water through her straw and then replied, “Tell me about it.”

Bill could smell the barbecue sauce from the kitchen. “All I did was dig a hole.” The woman looked at him patiently and said, “No one is accusing you of any wrong doing. I just want to know about the addition.” She opened up her folder and continued, “It seems Mr. Chandler laid you off after you had worked with him for six years.” Bill defended himself. “Construction kinda comes and goes. When it’s good, they wanna work my backhoe 24 hours a day. When it’s bad…”

Lately, it had been bad. His old machine was rusting in the back yard. It had been so long since he had been able to get work. Lucky thing his wife had been able to keep her job through this whole time.

The waitress brought the food. The woman picked up her fork and started moving the lettuce around her plate. Bill ate with gusto, not noticing that she didn’t actually bring the fork to her lips. “Mr. Chandler stated that he follows all the laws in the state, in particular, the Archaeological Preservation Act. Have you ever seen him continue with construction, even if you come across something that might be considered archaeological?”

Bill sighed with relief. “Oh Ray’s a stickler for that kinda thing. Once we dug up some bones over in Emigration. Took those guys two months to figure out they was just cow bones. Didn’t bother me none back then. I had so much work that I just moved on to the next job until those state boys figured things out.” He enjoyed the garlic mashed potatoes in between bites of rib, fingers gooey with sauce. “Owners were mighty angry, though.”

The woman took another drink of water. “On the master bedroom addition in Merriton, did you run into any bones? Any pottery shards? Anything that could be considered archaeological?” Bill smiled. He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong on that house. “No ma’am. The oldest thing I saw over at that house was the old coot cowboy who lived next door. He watched the whole time we worked, askin’ questions and just buggin’ all ‘o us.” Bill enjoyed the memory. “That old guy had an opinion about everything we did and how we should do it better.”

Bill laughed to himself. “Ya know, to this day, little Manuel, ” Bill paused to explain himself, “He helps pour the foundations. Well, he scrapes the concrete just like that cowboy told him. He says it works better that way.”

The woman took a bite of her salad and chewed it for a long time. After a sip of water, she asked, “This cowboy… did he seem overly interested in what you were digging?” Bill tried to remember. “No ma’am. He just thought I shoulda dug a little deeper so there could be a root cellar. He said most people appreciate a big root cellar, but the owner wanted a slab foundation to match the rest of the house. So, all’s I had to dig was to level the land.” He held up a rib in his hand. “No bones. Ray woulda stopped everything if there was.”

The woman sighed and asked the waitress for a box for her uneaten salad.