A Grave Situation

by Zoey Kane

“Kind of,” Claire said, briskly approaching.

  Their shoes crunched over old leaves.

  “I hope this isn’t another one of her stupid pranks,” Zo said, and glanced around the scary graveyard, just in case the girl’s friends were lurking around tombstones, waiting to yell, “Gotcha!” and drag her off to another one of their freakish parties.

  Claire neared first, and said, “No shoes. She must be freezing.” She quickly took off her jacket and laid it over her lying form.

  Zo hovered over her, and shook her shoulder. “Lacey. Lacey, wake up. Lacey.”

  But she wouldn’t answer.

  Claire crouched over to see closer. She took off her gloves and shoved them in her back pocket. Quickly, she felt for a pulse and couldn’t find one. They tried again to wake Lacey, in case they were mistaken but, no, there wasn’t a pulse.

  Jim pulled her over onto her back, flat on the bench.

  “Oh my gosh! It’s Cheryl!” Claire exclaimed.

  Cheryl’s hair had completely moved away from her face.

  “And a stake!” Zo added in astonishment.

  A stake was driven into her heart. Blood stained the front of the gown. Claire recoiled back, then stepped forward again, hands over her mouth, never getting used to seeing murder—let alone murder by a stake.

  All three were motionless in the quiet moonlight. Claire lifted her phone and punched in 911. Then they stood nervously as the wind whispered through the trees. The drop of a pine cone and snap of a twig echoed in the night.

  Red and blue lights were soon flashing from the road into the parking lot. A couple officers came running over with their flashlights beaming like mini spotlights from a lighthouse across a sea of grass. Claire’s phone call had gotten a quick response.

  *

  After the cops thoroughly questioned them, an officer took the duo back to the castle. It was nearly ten thirty. Everyone was quietly in their chambers sleeping, except for their host, Dracula.

  “Home so early, my children of the night?” he smiled over vampire teeth, creaking open the front door. You mizzed dinner.”

  “Yes, you old dear.” Zo flung her arms around him. She had an urge that didn’t know whether to cry, be afraid or laugh at him. She instead kissed him on the cheek.

  He stepped back in surprise. “Curses! Dracula being treated like grandpa? That won’t do.” He then softened and asked, “Tough night?”

  Stepping inside, Claire said, “It isn’t cat killings anymore, and it wasn’t Lacey found dead; it was Cheryl … with a stake in her heart.”

  “A stake?!” His eyes widened and he grabbed at his heart. “What is this sleepy little village coming to? Next they will be after me, a very kind and considerate vampire.”

  He thought a moment. “I … I should probably give Lacey’s uncle a call. He needs to worry.”

  “Do you have any ideas as to why this happened?” asked Zo.

  The old man scratched the chin of his long beard, and took a few steps off to the side and then swung dramatically, taking a hand to flare out his cape, and wrap it back around him. “I am the only true vampire in town—you can check my fangs for blood. I didn’t do it.”

  He started pacing. “I was entertaining guests tonight. You can ask anyone here.” Then he stopped and returned to look eye to eye with the women. “Therefore, it is someone exploiting me,” he said angrily, “to cover up a crime!” His voice softened again into a Dracula accent: “Thad is all I know, darlinks. Now off to bed with you, before I ged hungry from all the stress.”

  TWELVE

  At breakfast the next morning, Frank looked agitated. He stabbed at his omelet and smothered it in hot sauce before chomping it hard. His eyes shifted around, not landing on anything in particular. Lenora and Beth were rather calm, talking quietly amongst themselves and smiling a lot. Lacey hadn’t been to breakfast or dinner for a while now.

  Zo and Claire made sure not to bring up their experience in the graveyard last night because they wanted to observe the behavior of the guests to see if there were any telltale signs of guilt.

  “Well, what’s new?” Zo asked.

  Frank didn’t look up or say a word.

  Beth fidgeted with the back of her hair a moment. “I hear the vamps are having a party tonight. You are NOT invited, Zoey and Claire. This is for an initiation of virgins only.”

  Zo gave a questioning look at her daughter.

  The sisters laughed. “Oh … ho… hooo.”

  Claire read her thoughts. “Really, Mom?”

  “Forget it.” Zo rested her eyes on the sisters. “Does this mean you and Lenora will be attending?”

  Both ladies giggled through pursed lips. “Hoo … hoohoo. So funny.”

  “Well, I was just kidding, but Lenora is a slut. Hoohoo … hooooo.” Beth covered her mouth while she laughed.

  Lenora looked aghast. “Enough wine for you, sister.”

  “Hoo … hoo … hoooo.”

  Zo blinked and turned her attention. “Okaaaay. Frank, anything to report?”

  “How about four dead cats at the bottom of a newly dug gravesite?”

  Everybody’s eyes were riveted to him. “I didn’t kill them,” he exclaimed in defense.

  “Neither did I!” Lenora added.

  “I am beginning to suspect there are weird people around us,” Dracula said, having heard the conversation as he entered with ham, fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, and toast on a large platter.

  Everyone ate rather quietly, except for an occasional request for the platter to be passed their way for another helping, until Gus Federbal joined them. He placed his bowler hat on the chair next to him and asked as he sat, “Is everyone having a good time?”

  “Were you by chance, Mr. Federbal, invited to a vampire party tonight?” Beth asked. The sisters giggled.

  “No. Should I be?”

  “Woo … hoohoohoo,” the sisters giggled in high voices, leaning into each other.

  Gus decided to ignore it.

  Claire moved the conversation back to Frank’s revelation. “There were four cats found in a newly dug grave.”

  “How peculiar,” the little potbellied man remarked. “I’m somewhat of a genealogist. I planned on looking through the cemetery today for Mackendols, my mother’s side of the family.”

  “Well, good luck on that, Mr. Federbal.” Frank’s tone sounded rather sarcastic.

  Breakfast had been a little uncomfortable. Not long after, Zo and Claire were relieved to be out for the day just to look about. While they were window shopping, and buying souvenirs, they saw more flyers had been posted around with a circle-cross-out over the word VAMPIRES.

  People were stopping to read. “I don’t know who is more crazy, the vampire cult or the radicals trying to run them out of town,” said a man smoking a pipe, with thin white hair and round gold tone glasses. His wife nodded in agreement as they turned to walk away.

  Zo interrupted their departure. “Excuse me. Have you lived around here long?”

  Claire paused her steps behind her, listening.

  “All my life,” he answered. “My wife and I went to school together.”

  Zo nodded.

  “I just wanted to ask what you know about the grave of a stranger washed up on the shore in 1889.”

  “We all have heard of him, of course,” the old man said. “Just that nobody knew who he was, washed up at sea. If you want what the newspapers had to say about him, check the library records from 1889. Maybe they’ll have some information.” He paused. “You can talk to Mayor Smith about opening up ol’ Pastor Hall’s Presbyterian Chapel if I’m wrong. That’s where the original records were stored about those buried there; you know, their death records.”

  Zo raised her brows. “The mayor?”

  He took a puff of smoke and blew it to the side. “I doubt she’ll open it, but what the hey, it’s worth a shot. The key to the chapel actually hangs behind glass in the her office. The mayor from 1889 put it there.”

 
That was interesting information. “And, um, why wouldn’t she open the chapel if she has the key?”

  He and his wife shared a knowing smile. He took another puff from his pipe, then took it away from his lips. His eyes looked down at her in most seriousness. “My dear,” he said, “no one has been in there since Isobel’s wedding day. She was jilted at the altar, you know, then—poof—just disappeared.”

  His wife pressed her lips together tightly, before adding, “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of Isobel.”

  Zo knew quite a bit for being a newcomer to their little town, more than they could imagine. She said, “I have heard some stories. What do you say?”

  “She’s our town’s urban legend. As Ted said, she ran away on her wedding day.” She paused. “Since then, maybe twenty different rumors have circulated declaring what supposedly happened to her. It’s this latest one, though, about her being a vampire ghost that’s getting the whole town up in arms!”

  The old couple glanced at the anti-vampire sign hung in the window. The old man then took off his glasses and wiped them with a white hanky he pulled from his back pocket, the pipe hanging from the corner of his mouth. He said around it, “That’s basically what we know. There’s always been rumor. And wherever there’s rumor, there’s those who will believe without a doubt. Boy, I wouldn’t want to be the man who plays ol’ Dracula right about now…”

  His wife nodded, looking at him. “Maybe we should go stay there before some crazed mob attacks and ruins everything for the weekender.”

  “Well, thank you for your time,” Zo said. “I appreciate it.”

  Claire touched her mother’s sleeve and said, “Okay, I think we ought to go over to the stand across the way for shrimp tacos. Lunch time.”

  “Oh my goodness! Look who’s here,” said Zo, coming upon the sisters who were sitting on either side of Mr. Federbal, eating burgers at a round table with a big umbrella shade.

  “Oooooh, it is so good to see you two,” greeted Lenora in a delighted way. “It’s a beautiful day to be out of the house.”

  “Yes, it is. Gus asked us out to lunch,” explained Beth.

  Both sisters looked at him with beaming smiles.

  “That it is—a marvelous day for looking around,” agreed Federbal. “As for the cats that Frank mentioned, all I could find this morning was one fresh grave, no marker. So if that is somebody’s weird idea of a joke, burying four cats in a cemetery, it’s none of my business. I don’t live here.”

  Beth could not help herself to add comment. “Oh! I find it deplorable.”

  “I didn’t do it!” claimed Lenora, touching her white button-up blouse.

  Claire said, “Well, let’s not let it ruin our gorgeous day.”

  “Right so.” Beth looked at her sister. “We must forget that this instant. After all, we have such charming company.” She looked at their shared date with adoring eyes.

  Mr. Federbal cleared his throat and took another bite of his burger deluxe. Zo and Claire ordered lunch, then sat a table over as the Binger sisters giggled and cooed.

  “A cat killer and Cheryl’s death,” Claire said. The table’s green, shady umbrella was welcome, as she inched her way out of a sunny spot. “Do you think it was a matter of a mistaken identity? The killer thinking she was Lacey, just like we did at first?”

  “That’s what I keep coming back to,” her mother agreed.

  Their tacos arrived with corn chips and salsa. Right after, frosty 7-Ups accompanied their orders.

  “It’s all so weird, Mom…” Claire dipped a chip. “And the ‘Stranger’ is yet another mystery.”

  Claire turned toward the teenage kid behind the stand. “Do you know anything about the ‘Stranger’ buried at Hall Cemetery; and if so, what?” She filled her mouth with a juicy bite of taco and chewed while waiting for the answer.

  “Everybody knows of him, but I don’t think anybody knows anything about him. I heard he had pretty rotten features—been in the ocean a while.”

  Claire’s attention was fixed on the kid’s braces as he talked.

  “The ship that went down during the storm was supposed to have treasure on it. Nobody ever found any. Nobody bothers anymore.” His eyes brightened. “Would you like more napkins?”

  Cocoa came over and sat down next to Zo. Today, her short black hair wasn’t feathered around her face, but combed back behind her ears, showcasing large hoop earrings. Smoky eye shadow enhanced her light blue eyes, making them brilliant and beautiful. “May I join you?”

  “Absolutely!” replied Zo.

  Claire smiled.

  “So you two are taking dance lessons from Kellen? How is that going?” She was interrupted for an order. “Three chicken tacos and extra corn chips with extra dip.” Her attention returned to Zo and Claire: “My husband is joining me. I really don’t eat all that much.”

  “You can definitely say we are improved dancers,” answered Zo. “He says he’s not gay.”

  “Really?” She took a sip of water that had been brought over. Her voice a little flatter, she said, “I guess I heard wrong.”

  Claire remembered the poster of the missing tabby cat she saw while out with Jim. “Did you find your cat yet?” she asked Cocoa.

  “Hm?” The woman’s eyes met hers. “Oh, uh, not yet. Not yet.”

  Zo shook her head in sympathy. “You have a missing cat? So sorry to hear that.”

  What else could she say?

  “I hope he’s found soon,” Claire said.

  “Thank you,” Cocoa said, averting her eyes and lightly pulling at the short hair on the nape of her neck.

  “Did you get extra chips and dip?” asked a man who walked over and joined them, sitting down on the other side of Cocoa. He had dark hair combed tightly to his head with a receding hairline, but what stood out most was his thin 1940s-style moustache. Claire never did like green ties.

  “Yes. Honey, this is Zoey and her daughter Claire.” She further included, by way of introduction: “My husband, Phil.”

  “Happy to meet you, Phil,” Zo said.

  Claire smiled. “Yes.”

  Phil raised his upper lip, showing teeth, and nodded in acknowledgement. Then he took a napkin and wiped his brow and temples from perspiration. “Hot day.”

  “I have a favorite question to ask,” inserted Claire. “Do either of you know anything of the man buried as ‘Stranger’ in 1889?”

  “No.” Cocoa shook her head.

  “Oh, yes,” Phil said. “My Great Grandpa Fulton was the coroner.” The chips and dip were placed on the table. Phil filled his taco shell with salsa as the duo waited in anxious anticipation. “No, no. He was a total John Doe. He did have a Bible on him though, and a gold wedding band with an inscription.”

  Phil took a bite.

  “What did it say?” asked Claire, anticipating more information.

  “Don’t know. Nobody does. My dad said his dad told him when talking about the Stranger, that the ring had nothing written on it that would benefit anyone.” He scraped on more dip.

  “This town has a lot of mysteries,” concluded Zo.

  “It does?” Phil said.

  The Fultons started eating their lunch as the Kanes finished their tacos, soon excusing themselves to continue their day.

  THIRTEEN

  Once again, the Kanes made their way through Hall Cemetery, thinking about finding the cats’ grave, and doing a little investigating of their own.

  A couple policemen were soon spotted under a huge tree, digging around. The duo headed over.

  “Hi. Did you find four cats in there?” Zo said as they approached the two officers, one holding a forty-gallon black plastic bag. “My daughter’s the one who called it in.”

  “No, ma’am. We found thirteen cats in there.” One pointed at their shallow pit. “We’re just bagging them up.”

  “That’s going to give me bad dreams tonight,” Zo said, not wanting to gaze too long at the bodies.

  “Do you know what kille
d them?” asked Claire. She dared to look into the shallow grave. She spotted dirty matted fur and darted her eyes away.

  “It looks like they have punctures on their necks. I’d say loss of blood,” said the gray-haired officer, holding the bag open for the first carcass.

  “Okay.” Claire started stepping away, feeling a little creeped out. “We’re going to look around a little.”

  “But we need one of you ladies to hold the bag,” the younger cop said.

  “What?! Wait … no.” The two protested at just the thought.

  “Come on, you two like little kitties, don’t you?” he went on. “Well, we have to have these poor little bodies to examine so we can catch the nutcase.”

  The mother and daughter each reluctantly took a side to hold it open wide.

  “Just don’t touch us with their poor little matted stinky fur,” Zo said.

  “Deal!”

  “Hey, guys…” Zo began as the cat corpses were being ladled into the bag, sometimes three at a time. “What do you know about the Skipping Betty, that shipwrecked off Galley Cove in 1889?”

  The older one said, “That the sailors referred to it as the Sipping Betty, because it was taking on water ever before being dashed on the rocks. It was also supposed to have had treasure aboard, but none was found.”

  He looked across the cemetery and leaned on his shovel a moment. “We got one o’ those sailors off that wreck right over there.” He pointed. “A John Doe. Never did find out who he was.” He continued his shoveling of cats.

  That wasn’t much more news. “Hm,” Zo said.

  When the cats had all been bagged, and the shallow hole filled, the younger officer said there was something ironic about letting the cats out of the bag for the lab guys, and then everyone said their goodbyes.

  The Kanes walked and sat down on the church steps.

  Claire stretched out her legs and leaned back on her forearms. “We haven’t told the mayor or police about who is lying behind the lectern.”

  “I know. I don’t think we should make any waves yet, do you? She’s been dead a lot of decades, a couple more days isn’t going to make all that difference. Do you think?”