Posts tagged ‘plumber’
PLUMBING PROBLEMS: PART IX
PLUMBING PROBLEMS IX
“Hang on,” she said, “I’ll try his cell phone.” She came back on the line and said her call to Dave could not be completed; something was wrong with his cell phone. I wasn’t prepared for her next response.
She half shouted and half cried, “That bastard!”
There was more to come.
“He’s with his slut, that son of a bitch. That’s the only place he can be.” Debbie continued with an explanation that I really didn’t need to hear. “We had just been married a year, and I knew I wasn’t his first girlfriend, but I figured I’d be the last. Dave had accepted a job from a woman new to the area and I found out he was servicing more than just her plumbing. No that’s wrong, he was servicing her plumbing.” Debbie wailed, “That’s the only place he could be, and if that’s where he is he can go to hell!”
As fast as I could, I offered to let her know if Dave returned, said good-bye and hung up. I needed to have my plumbing fixed and not to be in the middle of a marital dispute.
I searched around the house and walked the fields again but there was no sign of Dave. By now night was approaching. With reluctance I called the police. I related to the officer Dave’s disappearance and also about my conversation with his wife.
“Sounds like a sticky situation,” came the officer’s reply. He continued, “I’ll phone the wife. She’s the one that has to file a missing person report. After I talk to her I’ll take a run out to your place and see if I can figure out what is going on.”
I said I’d be watching for him, hung up and looked into having the mess upstairs cleaned up. A few hours later a police car pulled up behind Dave’s truck. By now it was quite dark, so I put on the outside lights and saw a policeman walking towards the front door. He introduced himself as Officer Marks and I asked him in.
PLUMBING PROBLEMS: PART VII
PLUMBING PROBLEMS: PART VII
As the weeks went by, my mind was occupied by the problems I was having with the plumbing. I drove down to the hardware store and bought every drain cleaner known to man, but nothing worked to clear the sinks. But then, they would clear spontaneously. I talked to Jack and some of the other locals about a recommendation for a plumber, someone reliable and not too expensive. They told me about a plumber everyone used that had just retired and the business had been taken over by his son, a young newlywed who was eager to build up his clientele and reputation, so I gave him a call. Two days later he drove up our driveway. DAVE’S PLUMBING was the sign displayed on the side of the panel truck. I opened the front door; we shook hands and he introduced himself.
“How’re you doing sir? I’m Dave Watson Jr. Now what exactly is the problem?”
I described the intermittent clogging of the drains, what I had tried and that nothing seems to work. Dave was a young man, in his mid-twenties, and eager to tackle the job. “I’ll check it out. Could be,” he said, “that you’re cleaning some of the build-up on the walls of the pipes and that’s causing the drain to appear cleared. But the cleared opening is so small the slightest material going down the drain will just clog it again. A snake should ream out the pipes and clear up your problem just fine.”
My wife was gone visiting her sister for a couple of days and Robin needed to be run around as usual, so I asked Dave if he would mind being left alone for a while. If he was done before I returned, he could lock the front door and mail me the bill.
“No problem,” came his reply, “you take care of your girl and I’ll see to the plumbing.”
With the owner and his child gone, Dave went out to his truck to gather what tools he needed. He first noticed the smell as he approached the master bathroom, a horrible odor that convinced Dave that things were backing up in there. He opened the door to an unspeakable sight, he turned to run but was grasped by the neck and pulled to the floor. The stinging pain was followed by paralysis as he helplessly viewed his attacker, then thought ceased.
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