“We’ll have to bury the body under a roundabout. The one at the end of the link road to the motorway. Wait til it’s dark… and that’s when we’ll do it.”
Amy looked at Steve. She waited. He wasn’t finished yet and she knew this wasn’t the time to question him.
“Yes, that’s the place. It’s covered by trees, it’s surrounded by barriers. Nobody will be walking their dog there and they don’t dig those places up. Especially as it’s a new road; that will be there for decades and decades before it’s even touched.”
Now Amy knew it was time to pipe up. She knew Steve wanted praise, or at least affirmation.
“Okay… but how…”
Steve knew the answer before he knew the question.
“In bags. Those duffel bags. As long as they have handles, they’ll be easy to carry. Park in the lay-by just after the roundabout and carry the bags over, then dig and dump.”
“Oh, you’ve got a name for your style then?” said Amy.
“Dig and dump. Yeah…”
The waiter came over with their drinks. One decaf oat-milk latte for Amy, one cappuccino for Steve. Steve only ever wanted a normal coffee but never felt confident enough to ask for a normal coffee; despite being a relaxed, confident man.
“If I said to you Dig and Dump,” Steve said to the waiter with enthusiasm that defied the subject matter he was talking about, “what do you think I’d be talking about?”
The waiter was taken aback initially, but then realised this was an opportunity to just join in with some playful looking customers.
Steve was in his later thirties. He had dark brown hair in a style that wasn’t really a style, more a variant on every haircut he’d had since school. Just with less gel and probably slightly less care. His dress style was pretty normal. He didn’t really peacock unless he was going out for a night. Or a wedding. Then even his hair would carry a little different product.
Amy was thirty four. She was naturally beautiful and wore make up which complimented her beauty, rather than drowned it. Amy’s skin was the tanned side of pale and her hair was dark and long. Steve had once called it ravenous; he meant raven-like. Unlike Steve, Amy’s hair changed on an almost daily basis and always looked great. Especially at weddings.
Neither Steve nor Amy had been to their own wedding, although they hoped to. One day.
“Dig and dump,” repeated the waiter. He was half saying this to amuse them, but also half trying to actually work it out. Probably more than half, actually. “Is it something to do with camping?”
“That’s a good guess,” said Steve. He was quite impressed by what he’d just heard.
“That actually makes more sense that what it actually means. Well, it doesn’t really mean anything…” Amy was trying to steer the conversation away. She wasn’t too keen on the waiter knowing.
“It’s where you dig a hole and dump the body. Or body parts. Dig and dump.” Steve waited for the waiter to give a reaction that would match the self-satisfaction his face was wearing at this disclosure.
The waiter looked at Steve quizzically. Then at Amy. Then he nodded.
“Yeah, I get that. That makes sense. Dig and dump. Yeah.”
“We were just saying the best way to dispose of a body would be under one of those roundabouts where all the trees grow, just off a motorway junction.” Steve was sharing this as if he were recruiting fantasy murder colleagues.
“A romantic date, this then?” asked the waiter, half-smiling at Amy.
“Definitely. Actually, this is just us planning our honeymoon…”
“And this pretend murder scenario…” the waiter paused for confirmation.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s definitely pretend. I mean, I wouldn’t have the first clue how to actually do it. I wouldn’t really want to know, to be honest. We were just talking about if we were to try and write a book in our coffee break or something…” Steve said, before slurping on the cappuccino foam.
“Well,” said the waiter, “You’d do it with a frozen leg of lamb wouldn’t you?”
Amy and Steve looked at him. Both brows furrowed in a way that implied these two had spend some time together; enough that they both furrowed in exactly the same way.
“Like a sword?” asked Amy
“Yeah, that would take forever,” Steve added, “The victim would have to be very understanding. And patient.”
“No,” said the waiter. He seemed a little disappointed that the other two hadn’t joined in with this idea. “You hit them over the head, leave it on the kitchen drainer, go do the Dig and Dump, then head home for a Sunday roast and eat the evidence.”
“Ah, a day specific pretend murder,” said Amy.
“I’m glad it’s pretend,” said Steve, “I couldn’t face that and then doing the post-roast washing up.”
Amy finished her multi-titled coffee and went to get up.
“Can I tempt you with our soup to take out before you go?”
“What is it?” asked Amy.
“You’ll never guess…” said the waiter, smirking.
“It’s carrot and coriander,” said Steve. “I can see it on the board.”
And with that, he posted his coffee break story idea and went back to work.
Just like I’m doing now…