Leo nodded. He’d seen this twice before in twenty years. Once in a commercial kitchen in Takapuna, once in a church hall in Grey Lynn. “You ever have renovations done? Maybe before you bought the place?”
The address was a 1920s bungalow in Devonport, all charming weatherboards and overgrown hydrangeas. The homeowner, a frantic man named Simon in a bathrobe, met him at the door. “The dishwasher flooded. Water’s coming up through the floor drain in the laundry. I called three other plumbers—they said they don’t do ‘specialist’ work this late.” specialist drain unblocking auckland
He didn’t believe in ghosts. But he believed in the things people buried—sometimes literally—in their pipes. And he knew, with absolute certainty, that the tooth hadn’t come from upstairs. It had come from below. From the old stormwater tunnel that ran beneath the house, the one the council maps didn’t show anymore. Leo nodded
“Pasta? Rice? Wet wipes?”
“Never.”