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The question seemed ever so faintly hostile, but I smiled to show what a good sport I was. “I’d say ‘dumb luck’ but I don’t want to be accused of false modesty.”
“I’m serious.”
“Me, too.” I went through my standard explanation, trying a variation just to keep the story interesting. “Someone saw Violet’s car parked out here the night she disappeared. After that, it was never seen again so it dawned on me maybe it hadn’t gone anywhere. In retrospect, it seems dumb I didn’t twig to it before.”
“Who saw the car?”
I went through a lightning-quick debate with myself and decided naming Winston was a very bad idea. It was as Detective Nichols had said: the less information in circulation, the better. I waved the question aside. “I don’t remember offhand. It’s one of those things I heard in passing. What about you; how’d you hear about this?” I asked, indicating the excavation.
“I was listening to the radio on the way home from work when it came on the news. I called the sheriff’s office as soon as I got home.”
“Were you out here last night?”
“For a while. I wanted to see for myself, but the deputy wouldn’t let me get anywhere near. They knocked off at ten and said they’d be starting again this morning at six.”
“You have a guess about how long it would take to dig a hole that size? I’m talking way back when.”
“I don’t know the details. You’ll have to fill me in.”
“From the scuttlebutt yesterday, the guy made a long shallow ramp, eight feet wide and maybe fifteen feet at its deepest point. The back end of the car is buried at the bottom with the front on an incline about like this.” I held my arm out at roughly a thirty-degree angle.
He sat, blinking, while he ran the numbers through his head. “I’d have to do the math to give you any kind of accurate answer. In 1953, the guy would’ve used a bulldozer. If you’re telling me he backed the car in, then he must have dug the hole with a long sloping ramp on either end and scooped out dirt until the hole was deep enough at its deepest point to sink the car completely. I’d say two days, maybe a day and a half. It wouldn’t take long to fill it in again. Someone must have seen what he was up to, but he might have had a cover story.”
“The Fourth fell on a Saturday that year so most people were given Friday off, too. If the road crew was idle for the three-day weekend, then the excavation could have been done without anyone on hand.”
“I can see that,” he said. “With the road unfinished, there wouldn’t have been any traffic to speak of.”
“What about the excess dirt? Wouldn’t there have been quite a bit leftover when the hole was filled in?”
He fixed his green eyes on mine. “Oh, yes. The car would have displaced somewhere in the neighborhood of two hundred cubic yards of dirt. Rough guess.”
“So what’d he do, haul it all away?”
“Not likely. The biggest dump truck in operation back then had a capacity of five cubic yards, so it would have taken way too long, especially if he ferried the load any appreciable distance. The easiest solution would have been to push it across the road and spread it out on that field.”
“But wouldn’t someone have noticed the sudden appearance of all the fresh dirt?”
“Not necessarily. If I remember correctly, the field you’re looking at belonged to a co-op at the time, and it was only being cultivated intermittently. With road construction under way, things were already torn up, so no one would have paid attention to a little more dirt.”
“We have to be talking about someone who’s worked in construction, don’t you think? The average joe doesn’t jump on a bulldozer and dig a hole that size. Seems like you’d have to know what you were doing.”
“True, but that’s not going to help you narrow the field. After World War Two a lot of guys around here worked construction, Foley being one. Building trade was booming, so it was that, farmwork, the oil fields, or the packing plant.”
“Well. I guess we don’t have to worry about it. I’m sure Detective Nichols will figure it out.”
At noon I took Daisy’s car and made a run to the delicatessen I’d patronized the day before. Since Ta
We ate in her car, watching the excavation as though we were at a drive-in movie. A tow truck appeared, the most exciting occurrence in the past three hours. Tom Padgett must have gotten bored because I saw him back away and start heading in our direction. He had his fat-stemmed glasses in hand, polishing one lens with a white handkerchief. His jeans, cowboy boots, and western-cut shirt gave him the air of a rodeo rider, complete with slightly bowed legs.
I said, “Hang on.” I opened the car door and got out. “Hi, Tom. Are you off to lunch?”
“Come again?” He put on his glasses and cupped a hand to one ear.
“I wondered if you were on your way to lunch.”
“Yes, ma’am. I thought I’d grab a bite somewhere.”
“I can save you the trip. We have an extra turkey sandwich, if you’re interested.”
“That’d be nice if you’re sure it’s okay.”
“If you don’t eat it, we’ll have to toss it out.”
He used the front fender of Daisy’s car as a makeshift picnic table. I popped open the remaining soda and passed it to him. He shook his head to the offer of potato chips but later accepted a cookie that he downed with enthusiasm.
I said, “How’s it going? You’ve managed to get a lot closer to the hole than we have.”
He cleared his mouth and ran a paper napkin across his lips, nodding as he did. “They’re making good progress. Looks like they’re about to try pulling the car out of the hole.”
“Really, that close?”
He wadded up his sandwich wrappings. “That’s why they got the tow truck. Might not work, but it’d sure be a lot easier than what they’ve done.”
“How long did you hang around last night?”
“As long as I could. I had paperwork to catch up on, so I left before they called it a wrap. I was surprised how much they’d accomplished. Lot of dirt.”
“Was it your equipment they were using when the road was built?”
“Sure was. Those days, there were only two of us. Me and a fellow named Bob Zeigler. Road construction, the county hired private companies like us, so we took advantage of the need. We were competitors, but neither of us had enough equipment to cover the whole job. Most of what I carried was tractors, and he was already spread thin because there were so many housing tracts under construction.”
“How’d you get into the business in the first place?”
“I could see the niche and decided to step in. I borrowed from the local-yokel bank and hit up family members for as much as I could. First thing I did was pick up a couple of used farm machines. I didn’t have an office or a yard. I worked out of a truck I kept parked beside a public pay phone, and did the mechanical repairs myself. Heavy equipment’s low margin, high volume, so every cent I got went right back to the John Deere factory to buy more equipment. Gradually things picked up. Around here, what with the old-boy network, you could slip a few bucks to a private contractor and you were set. At least for a while.”
“You have a guess about what the guy used to dig the hole? Calvin Wilcox says a bulldozer.”
“Had to be: 1953 the bulldozer or a track loader would’ve been the only mobile equipment available. The track loader was new technology in those days. I believe Caterpillar brought one out in 1950, but it was too expensive for me, and if Zeigler owned one, I’d have known about it. So a bulldozer for sure.”