"Uh, yeah. I have a house that needs...cleaning?"
"Yes, sir. What is the nature of your need?" She sounded like a nice woman.
"You mean, like...? There's blood."
"Ok, no problem, sir. Let me check for the next available time with our biohazard team."
"There's also...a lot of mold and stuff."
"Ok, that's typically a different team, is it ok if we make two different appointments?"
"Yeah, that's fine."
"We can contact the police for you and handle working with them. What's the address?"
"I think the police are done."
"Ok. Like I said, we contact them and make sure we're clear to begin our work. What's the address?"
"1975 northeast 50th."
"Ok please hold."
Andy started the car, turned up the heat and closed the window. He sighed.
When he was twelve, Andy wished his dad was dead. He didn't think it would take thirteen years and be such a pain in the ass to deal with when it happened.
The phone clicked again. "Ok, sir, we're all clear to begin work. We can be there tomorrow morning at 8 am. We can provide an estimate once our team lead has assessed the situation and we'll need to arrange payment before we begin. If you'd like I can call your insurance company this afternoon on your behalf."
"Ok, no problem...and...I don't know what the insurance situation is, and I'm not sure I can find out by tomorrow..."
"If you're ok with it, sir, we can provide you all the paperwork you'll need to file the claim yourself later on."
"Ok, great. Thanks."
"I'll need just a bit more information. Is this Mr. Ducksworth?"
Andy was already hanging up when he heard the question. He wondered if she was going to call back. He was already too exhausted to answer any more questions.