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“My ancestor, if not in the flesh, at least in the bone. He of course had to take center stage.”
Decker and Jamison gazeddown at the last resting place of John Baron the First.
“Impressive,” said Decker. “Is everyone in here a Baron?”
Baron shrugged. “I haven’t actually been in here since I was a little boy and my grandmother died. That’s her spot over there,” he added, pointing to a crypt along the left side of the wall. “I remember that this was the creepiest place I’d ever been in, and couldbarely wait to get out.”
Decker continued to look around the space. The smell of mildew was fierce in here. Two of the walls were blackened with what looked like mold or fungus. Another wall had heavy smears of white, which mirrored those on the outside. The ceiling was blotched and stained with water damage.
He moved forward and bumped his leg against one crypt that juttedout into the main space.
Rubbing his thigh, he looked down at the etched name on the marble.
Abigail Baron.
Baron noted what Decker was looking at and said, “The man obviously wanted his eternal life all to himself, with even his wife shunted off to the side.” He looked around. “It’s full now, so no more admissions are possible. My spot is outside.”
“I cansee why you wanted to get out of here when you were little,” said Jamison, slowly looking around. “I mean, it’s all about…death.”
Baron led them back outside and locked the door.
Jamison stepped off to one side of the mausoleum and inspected what looked to be the newest graves on the grounds, though from the dates on the tombstones they were over thirty years old.
“Are these your parents?” she asked.
Baron slowly turned from the mausoleum and looked at the twin tombstones.
“My father, Benjamin, and my mother, Dorothy. Dearly departed, as they say.”
Decker walked over and read the information on the grave markers. “They were only in their forties. And they died on the same day. What happened?”
“Not really sure,” saidBaron as he joined them.
Decker and Jamison stared at him. “What do you mean?” Decker asked. “You should know how they died.”
“There are certain people who believe they died in an accident. And there are certain people who believe they committed suicide.”
“Which one do you believe?” asked Jamison.
“Neither.”
“So how do you think they died?” shesaid.
He looked directly at her. “I think they were murdered.”
“Those are threeverydifferent possibilities,” said a clearly surprised Jamison.
“Yes, they are.”
“Why do you think they were murdered?” asked Decker.
“Let’s take a walk. There’s a large pond on the grounds. And while their blooming period is long over, the foliage of the rhododendronsis still quite lovely,” he added in a somber tone.
Baron led them down a well-worn path through stands of trees. Farther down he turned right.
“The grounds used to encompass the land all the way to the bottom where you reach the road heading into town,” he explained. “But the property was sold off over the years. There’s not much left, but what is, I think, are the prettiestparts.”
He led them out of the woods and past a long column of rhododendrons to a large pond whose surface was half covered with vegetation. The ground sloped down toward it on all sides.
