Page 37 of Grave Danger

Demetrius drove slowly along the curved asphalt of the largest ring. After crossing two of the spokes of the wheel in the road layout, he noticed a white pickup truck parked on the grass in the shade beneath a tree. He stopped on the side of the road and checked his mirrors for any sign of Sam, the grumpy grave digger, but the coast was clear.

Leaving the engine running, Demetrius got out and eased the door shut, careful not to accidentally lock himself out from force of habit. He approached the pickup and looked it over. It was a very plain model, all white with no discernible markings. Some papers were strewn across the passenger seat, but they were upside down and the doors were locked. Moving to the bed of the truck, Demetrius peered over the sidewall but found nothing of interest. He stepped back from the rear of the vehicle and took a picture of the Pennsylvania license plate. Green letters and numbers had been stenciled in near the top of the tailgate, and Demetrius took a picture of that, too, before hurrying back to his truck and driving off.

After a slow drive along the other rings of asphalt, each one smaller in diameter than the one before, Demetrius found no sign of disturbed graves. He saw a couple of freshly dug graves with canopies alongside and folding chairs set up on plywood to keep the legs from sinking into the grass. It all looked like normal funeral preparation, with no casket in sight that might have once contained a deceased loved one. He did see the plot Aunt Amelia had picked out for herself, but he didn’t stop to look it over. That was something he definitely didn’t want to dwell on.

Signs along the spokes and wheels of the roads directed him to the main office, and he found two vehicles parked in the small lot, both positioned by a couple of large oak trees which would provide shade from the afternoon sun. Parking by the entrance to the single-story, white stone building, he pulled open the heavy wooden door and stepped into a cool slate-floored foyer.

An older man sat behind a desk facing the door, and he smiled. “Hello. How may I help you today?”

Demetrius decided to abandon the story about Amelia’s plot and get right to the point. “Hi there. I was hoping to speak to the grounds manager or someone about any recent activity that may be going on.”

The man’s smile slipped a little. “Activity?”

“Yes, any graves that may have been tampered with or, um, disturbed.”

“Oh, my goodness no.” The man fervently shook his head. “We’ve never had anything like that happen here.” He squinted and turned his head slightly to one side as though looking at Demetrius in an entirely different way. “Who are you, exactly?”

“I…” Demetrius’s brain locked up. He hadn’t thought out a story and fake identity before coming into the office. He’d been thinking about Sam and his business out in the grave as well as Amelia’s plot out there waiting to be dug up for her.

He cleared his throat and crossed his arms like Sam had done, hoping he looked at least half as imposing as the bearded man. “I am a freelance reporter following up on some leads.”

“What kind of leads?”

“Anonymous.” Demetrius pressed his lips together and nodded. “Anonymous, no-name leads. They claimed some crazy things have been happening in the cemeteries in and around Parson’s Hollow.”

“What kinds of crazy things?”

“People tampering with graves, stealing bodies, that kind of thing.”

The man sat back and his eyes widened. He said in a low voice, “Grave robbing?”

“Yes, exactly. The robbing of people who are already, you know, dead and buried inside their graves.”

“That has not happened here, I can guarantee that.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Are you referring to the rumors going around town about… that other cemetery?”

“Yes. Wait, what rumors?” Panic fluttered in Demetrius’s chest and brain, making it difficult to think.

“Never mind. Forget I mentioned it.” The man clicked a pen open. “I can have the cemetery general manager contact you, Mr….?”

“Oh, there’s no need for that. No. I took a drive around and spoke to a member of your grounds crew and saw for myself that all the graves look nice and tidy.” He started to back toward the door. “I wouldn’t want to trouble the general manager, I’m sure he’s busy.”

“She,” the man said. “Bess Badal.”

“Right. Yes, exactly.” Demetrius continued backing up, hand behind him and fingers flailing to find the door knob. “Ms. Badal is extremely busy, I’m sure, so no need for her to contact me.”

The man stood up, hands flat on his desk. “I’d like to leave your name for her, just so she knows who to contact about these kinds of… events. I can assure you, we haven’t experienced anything like what’s been happening at the other place.” He sat and held his pen at the ready. “What is your name?”

“No worries. I mean, no need to know that. My name, that is.” Demetrius couldn’t have come up with a fake name at that moment if his life depended on it. And, when he thought about how a lot of their other monster cases had gone, it just might.

“Which of our grounds crew did you speak with?”

That name he could think of, and he blurted it out. “Sam.” His fingers finally landed on the knob and he pulled the door open.

“Sam?” The man cocked his head.

“Yeah. Bearded fellow, kind of intense.” Demetrius backed out of the door and waved. “Thanks for your time.”

He let the door fall shut and trotted to his truck. As he left the lot, he could see the man peering out a side window, writing on a pad of paper. Too late, he realized the magnetic Critter Catchers ad was plainly visible on his door.