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Fritz threw a small flask that hit me in the chest.
I stood shivering in the cold downpour and gave Fritz a long look as Crumley, cursing, got out of the runabout slowly. We stood in the big mortuary field with an open iron gate and open tomb door and the rain threatening to wash the bodies out of the earth. I shut my eyes and drank the vodka.
“Ready or not,” I whispered. “Here goes.”
“Goddammit,” said Crumley.
Chapter Forty-Six
It was a dark and stormy night.
My God, I thought, again?
Feet running. A cry. Lightning, thunder, a few nights back.
And here, my God, the same again!
The gates of heaven burst, a flood poured in darkness, with me near a cold tomb with someone crazed and maybe dead deep in the dark.
Stop, I told myself.
Touch.
The outer gate creaked. The inner door squealed.
We stood in the entry of the marble tomb with the sun gone, never to return, and the rain to rain forever.
It was dark, but there were three small blue votive candles lit and wavering in the draft from the door.
We all looked at the sarcophagus down below on our right.
Holly’s name was there. But there was no lid on the sarcophagus and it was empty, save for a powdering of dust.
Our eyes looked up to the next shelf.
Lightning flickered outside in the rain. Thunder mumbled.
On the next shelf Molly’s name was cut in marble. But again no lid, and the sarcophagus was empty.
Rain drenched the open door behind us as we looked at the next-to-top and topmost shelves and marble cases. We saw the names of Emily and Polly. We could see one was unoccupied. Trembling, I reached up to probe the top casement. My fingers touched only empty air.
Holly, Polly, Molly, and Emily, but in the flickers of lightning no bodies, no remains.
I stared up at that final enclosure and began to reach up when there was the faintest gasp and something like a cold weeping, far away.
I took my hand down and looked at Crumley. He looked up at the last sarcophagus and at last said, “Junior, it’s all yours.” There was a final intake of breath above in the shadows.
“Okay,” said Crumley, “everyone out.”
Everyone backed out into the whispering rain. At the door Crumley looked back at his lunatic child, handed me a flashlight, nodded good luck, and was gone.
I was alone.
I pulled back. The flashlight fell. I almost collapsed. It took a long while before I found and raised its beam, my heartbeat quaked with it.
“You,” I whispered, “there.”
Jesus, what did that mean?
