“Mrs. Holloway,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “What’s directly under this house?”
Not pushing it open.
“Drain Doctor Wellington,” I said, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder as I pulled a clean shirt over my head. “Leo speaking.” drain doctor wellington
The call came in at 7:14 PM on a Friday, just as the rain started to drill against the asphalt like a million tiny nails. “Mrs
“When did you last have the drains inspected?” I asked, kneeling down. “Drain Doctor Wellington,” I said, wedging the phone
I went to my truck and got The Exorcist—a fifty-pound electric drain auger with a carbide cutting head. I fed it down the pipe, hit the motor, and let it chew. The cable twisted and groaned. The house shuddered. Somewhere deep below, metal met wood, and the wood screamed.
The Drain Doctor still practices in Wellington. Still unclogs sinks and clears storm drains. But I’ve added a new clause to my contract: Not responsible for anything found behind sealed doors below the waterline.