Chapter 5

Written by: Ray Stone

I didn’t mind the nickname. Everyone had one. I guess even the dead guys had one. They were all called ‘Stiff.’ 

“Here, grab hold of the other end,” wheezed Digger as he bent to pick up the carpet roll. “Drop him down the hole and help me cover him up.”

Tony sat in the Cadi smoking while me and Digger filled the grave in and scattered some dust and rock over the top to hide the fresh dirt. It was Digger who really did all the work. He was a quiet giant of a man with muscular hairy arms. Even the backs of his hands were hairy across the knuckles. He had taken his jacket off and rolled up his shirt sleeves, revealing a tattoo of blood dripping from a dagger on one arm and a nude woman on the other. On the back of his neck, partially hidden beneath shoulder-length black hair, a thick white scar ran sideways across to his right shoulder. I asked him once about it and he told me that someone had cleavered him. His dark eyes narrowed as he had hissed “so I stretched his neck like a chicken’s”. Digger was a scary man, but he never argued, especially with Tony. 

Tony, I learned later, was a Captain and Digger was a soldier. They were a strange couple, especially together. At just five feet, Tony was dwarfed by his soldier who stood nearly seven feet tall and a lot broader. Both were always smartly dressed but Digger wore a wide-brimmed trilby that made him look even more menacing. 

“Come on then. Let’s get going.” Tony was impatient. “Give us five to clear before you move. Then go and wait for another delivery by the old college baseball stadium. Park in the far corner of the parking lot. An ice cream van will do the drop. There’s a clear patch of ground between two trees. Wait til he’s gone before you pick up.”

Digger stood behind him, leering at me. “Don’t puke up this time Twinkle. You might get breakfast all over your sequined dress.” He laughed.

Tony dug Digger in the ribs. “Concentrate and drive.”

They climbed into the Cadi and drove off. I waited five minutes and followed. A short while later I entered the baseball stadium.  

“Damn!” I thumped the steering wheel. An ice cream van was exiting and shot past me to join the highway.

It never occurred to me that the delivery might be early. Tony had arranged the drop so I guessed he would be real mad if something went wrong. I parked up and called him. I was right. He was mad.

“Go get the parcel, Joe, and meet Digger inside that new complex they’re building out on Interstate one fourty-six. There’s a truck and trailer park there. He’ll take you to the disposal point.”

“We digging again?” I asked.

“Not this one, Joe. This guy’s gettin’ a concrete coffin.”


I think this is a terrific story because it makes me believe it could possibly happen and that people like Digger, Joe and Tony do exists somewhere in this world. I even believe they are getting away with it. Regardless of genre those a great storytelling skills.