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Chapter 27
BARON HAD SLIPPEDan arm through Jamison’s as they took a winding paved road down to the family burial ground.
“It’s an old-fashioned concept now, of course,” remarked Baron. “Burying ourselves on our property. But back then it was the thing to do. That’s why there’s a paved road like this, because the funeral processionwould drive down to it. I even have a spot ready and waiting for me when my time is up. I hope the funds will be there to actually allow me to be interred.”
Jamison said, “Do youwantto be buried here?”
“I don’t want to die at all, but it’s not up to me, is it?”
There was a brick wall over six feet high set around the site, surrounded by thick trees, which threweverything into gloomy relief.
“Yes, it is very oppressive here,” said Baron, perhaps reacting to Jamison’s subdued expression.
He took a key from his pocket and opened a rusty wrought iron gate, the only entrance to the burial ground.
He pointed to an inscription written on a brass plate bolted to the wall next to the gate.
“That’s Latin?” saidJamison.
“Very good, Alex,” said Baron.
“What does it say?” asked Decker.
“Something like, ‘Screw unto others as you would have them screw unto you,’” replied Baron.
“It does not say that,” Jamison said with a laugh.
“Well, perhaps just in spirit. The loose translation is something like, ‘Here lie the mighty Barons for all time. Peons take notice.’”
Jamison laughed again.
He led them inside the spacious grounds. Most of the graves were marked by an elaborate piece of marble or granite with the name of the dead on them. The stones were all neatly arranged and perfectly straight and upright. Someone clearly had been taking care of them. In the very center of the site was a large marble mausoleum badly stained by the elements.
Baron led them over to it and patted the rusted wrought iron door that was the entrance to the structure. All around the door the marble was stained with patina from the metal leaching onto the stone. The exterior walls were covered in dirt and grime and streaks of white mixed with rust stains and clumps of fungus.
“In here lies our founder and benefactor, the aforementionedJohn Quarles Baron the First,” he announced. “He along with his wife, Abigail, and their children reside in there. Along with other family members who died after them.”
“It must be spacious inside,” noted Decker.
“It represents another bone of contention with thoselivingin Baronville that the Baron dead here are housed better than they are.”
Decker noted that onone side the mausoleum had sunka few inches into the ground. “Structural problems?” he asked.
“I think we can blame it on his being cheap, even with his final resting place.”
“It’s pretty grimy,” observed Jamison.
“I come down here from time to time to take care of the grounds and the other grave markers. But I don’t bother with this one. You can’t power wash thisthing or use acid. It would just damage it or cause the marble to disintegrate. And I’m not scrubbing it by hand. I wouldn’t do that even if I had loved Baron the First, which I don’t.”
He held up another key. “Would you like to see inside?”
Jamison immediately drew back, but Decker said, “Sure.”
Baron unlocked the door and pushed it open. He led the way inside.
Decker followed and Jamison reluctantly brought up the rear.
On either side of the space were crypts set in long shelves on the walls. In the very center was a large granite crypt stained with age and moisture. Baron led them up to it.
