A Grave Situation

by Zoey Kane

  Dracula finally showed, pushing a serving cart holding a crystal pitcher full of milk and a silver platter piled high with a variety of cake donuts, their sweet scent instantly hitting the air. “Help yourselves,” he said.

  Zo got up to get her helping and Dracula hugged her. “I was so worried about you. If I wasn’d immortal, I could have died for worry.”

  “Thank you for calling the police. Thank you.”

  Dracula stepped with Zo over to the cart. He reached down and brought some gauze and antibiotic salve off its lower shelf. “Just a moment, young lady,” he said. “I want to make sure you don’t get an infection.”

  He salved up a gauze square and placed it over her forehead wound. Everyone else was mingling as they were grabbing one or two desserts off the tray.

  Zo stared into Dracula’s eyes, which were busy looking over her bandage as he carefully placed a piece across it, securing it. She could see the faint rim of contact lenses around his brown irises.

  “You know,” she said, “I have never looked at you closely before.”

  “I know I am extremely hypnotic. Don’t worry, I will not take advantage of you, my darlink, in your weakened condition. I will withhold my power from you when you cannot help but look into my eyes.”

  “Thank you, I am a little tired.”

  He placed the last piece of tape on the bandage.

  “You wear contacts,” she stated.

  “Oh, that. Those are my sunglasses that I haven’t taken out all day. How do you think I ged around in daylight?”

  “Ummm, that makes sense. Thank you, sweetie. You are a fine vampire … and man.”

  “Curses. Admiration! It isn’t the same as passion. You must be immune to me. But maybe one day you will let me nip you on the shoulder.”

  “For you, anything.”

  “Curses! Charity.”

  He stood straight and announced, “I will pick all thiz up lader, my friends. When you go off to bed jusd leave it. Breakfast will be an hour later so you can sleep in. Good night.” He bowed at the neck and shoulders and then winked at Zo as he turned and left.

  The group comfortably spent about twenty more minutes with their donuts and drinks as Zo told them what happened, leaving out the most exciting part—the most electric kiss of her life. They decided to all go up to bed at the same time. Everyone was so tired.

  When the Kanes got up to their room, they didn’t waste time getting in bed.

  “You know, it was Kellen that saved me,” Zo said, as she pulled up her feet under the covers and lay back, adjusting her pillow for comfort.

  “That’s what I heard him telling the cops,” Claire said. “I’m so thankful for that.”

  Zo went on, also recalling things for her own entertainment. “When I was down on the ground, thinking I was about to take my last breath, thinking that Cocoa was going to get me, he knocked her out.”

  “He knocked her out?” Claire laughed at the thought and punched her pillow so her head would be in a comfortable spot.

  “I never noticed it before, but he has a lot of purple in his eyes. Moonlight brings it out.”

  “Sounds dreamy.”

  “He kissed me.”

  “Oh, man! I want to hear more about that in the morning. Night, Mom.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Zo rolled onto her side. “Hey, sweetie…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m thinking it’s about time we dig up the Stranger.”

  Bats screeching somewhere close by punctuated the announcement.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Claire groaned into her pillow.

  “What?” Zo said. “You know it sounds like fun.”

  “Haven’t we had enough near heart attacks on this vacation?”

  “No. Not nearly enough,” she teased.

  Claire wiped her bangs off her forehead as she lay thinking. “That bump on your head has gotten to you, hasn’t it? When exactly are you wanting to perform such an illegal act?”

  Bedsprings creaked as Zo sat up. “Now.”

  “And if we get caught?”

  “I’ll blame you.” There was a light laugh. “Kidding.”

  Claire didn’t respond.

  “Look, it’s an abandoned graveyard,” Zo said. “The Stranger has no known family. Even the one-time owner of the cemetery, Pastor Hall, has no heirs insomuch that he was entombed alone. We need to see what the inscription on the ring says.”

  “So you’re also planning on being a grave robber.”

  “It’s not stealing, dear. We’ll simply put the ring back in his pocket after we take a peek at what it says. I’m sure the Stranger will be okay with that.”

  “You’ll be the one to touch his decayed body?”

  “Sure…”

  “Okay.”

  Zo hopped out of bed. “I knew you’d come around.”

  *

  The moon was bright and full. Not one dark cloud swept over its spotted face. Zo and Claire were dressed warmly, down to their fashionable leather gloves. Zo carried a shovel from Dracula’s estate. It was eerily silent, as if the cemetery were concealing zombies, ready to spring forth at any moment. Now that Cocoa was locked up, and Lacey had given up her ghost-impersonating days, there was no one to fear creeping around the cemetery at night. Or so they thought.

  They went straight to the Stranger’s simple stone grave marker. Zo started digging up hunks of weedy grass as Claire crossed her arms, exhaling foggy air in anticipation. When Zo’s shoulders started aching, Claire took over, and vice versa. The clay was so compact, so hardened with time, that Claire had to jump onto the shovel a few times to push its spade in deeper.

  A thick mound of earth and weeds continued to pile up. They had only dug three feet or so down, when the shovel thunked against something harder than any earthly clay could be. Claire said, “I think we’ve already hit it.”

  “Thank goodness,” Zo said, pulling herself up to her feet.

  There was a sudden screeching of bats in the distance, startling them. They shot glances around the still cemetery. Nothing could be seen.

  “Let’s hurry up,” Claire said. She continued shoveling dirt off the splintery wooden casket as fast as she could go.

  Zo dropped to her knees, the damp earth soaking her jeans as she continued scooping clay chunks away, her gloves now solidly covered in the wet dirt.

  The entire top of the casket was rapidly cleared enough for them to see rusty hinges on one side and a lock on the other.

  “A lock?” Claire said in disappointment. “Of course. Why hadn’t we thought of that.”

  The screeching of bats continued, nearing them, piercing the sky with fierceness.

  Zo stood up and kicked down on the old lock with the heel of her winter boots. There was a loud crack, despite not seeing any difference made to the wooden box.

  “Step back, Mom.” Claire slammed the edge of the shovel’s spade against the lock. The crack of the wood echoed in the night.

  “Good. Keep doing that.” Zo pressed the palms of her muddy gloves together.

  Another hard strike, and another hard crack.

  The bats screeched louder. They were getting closer.

  The wood surrounding the lock was now deeply splintered. Claire lifted the shovel high, readying herself for a harder strike as it glinted in the moonlight.

  SCREECH. SCREECH.

  Something grabbed the shovel handle, stopping Claire from thrusting it downward. Her heart jumped and she let out a yelp.

  Zo yelped too, seeing a shadow looming over her daughter.

  “What are you girls doing here?” the shadow said. “You’re going to get yourselves killed.”

  Claire let go of the shovel and turned around.

  It was Frank.

  “Don’t creep up on us like that,” Zo insisted, wagging a clumpy finger.

  Frank tossed the shovel aside and pulled his black suitcase closer to his feet, its wheels squeaking like bats.

  “So it’
s you who’s been sounding like bats this entire vacation,” Claire said.

  Turning the suitcase on its side, Frank leaned down to open its hard shell. Inside offered all manner of tools—from his magnifying glass, to his vampire stakes, a camera and even a gun.

  “Yep.” He pulled a sharp tool out of a side compartment. He lifted it up, eyeing it with what looked like wicked glee, scissoring it open and closed.

  Claire stepped back and grabbed her mother’s arm in fear. “What are you doing?” she dared to ask Frank.

  “Bolt cutters,” he said.

  The women exhaled in relief as he squatted down, pinched the tool’s blade around the lock, gripped it hard and then—SNAP—the broken lock dropped to the earth.

  “What are we looking for in particular, ladies?” he asked, placing a large hand on the casket, his dark eyes like oily pools.

  “We’re looking for a wedding band with an inscription,” Zo said, not worried about sharing such information.

  Frank gave her a crooked smile. “You’re looking for more than that, aren’tcha?”

  “What do you mean?” Claire asked, her brow furrowing.

  “Oh, you know what I mean,” he said. “Your mother here is just as snoopy as me, if not more. And just yesterday, outside the library, she alluded to knowing more about the Skipping Betty’s treasure. It’s in here, isn’t in? In the Stranger’s casket.”

  Wind wrapped around the mother and daughter like icy bed sheets.

  “You think there’s treasure in there?” Zo asked. “That’s not what I was thinking.”

  “Really, what else would cause two frails to come back to the cemetery well after midnight, if you didn’t believe there was treasure here?”

  “Frails?” Claire took offense to the comment.

  “Yes,” he said. “Frails. Look, I came here to take over the job. You’re in over your pretty little pointed heads.”

  Claire doubled up a fist and hit him in the nose.

  “Owwuuuh.” Frank touched some blood.

  Zo put her hands on her jacket hips and said, “You’re lucky my daughter didn’t give you a boot to the head. You can help, but if you hinder us, then hit the road back to Dracula’s.”

  “We don’t need his help,” Claire said adamantly.

  Zo nodded. “I know, dear.”

  “Listen,” Frank said, twitching his nose in pain. “I’m going to open up this coffin. You two are welcome to stand right there and watch. But know this—the treasure is mine. Capiche?”

  “You’re kidding!” Claire doubled up her fists again.

  “And!” He put up a hand in defense. “You may know how to pop a good one, missy, but are you a champion wrestler? Oh, you’re not? That’s too bad. ‘Cause I am.”

  Like a pitcher ready to throw a strike, Claire wound up her fist and lifted a leg. WHAM. She punched him again and his neck snapped backward from the forceful blow.

  “Would you stop that?!” he said, touching at his tender, now swelling, nose.

  Zo touched her daughter’s arm. “I’m proud of your swing. Your Grandma Rachel had one just like it, but stop, stop, stop. This won’t get us anywhere.”

  Claire breathed in deeply and composed herself, running her fingers through her dark hair. “Sorry, Mom. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. He reminded me of Jack just then. My ex. I just hate pushy, condescending men who hulk their way over women.”

  “I know,” she sympathized. “I should have signed you up for boxing instead of piano lessons when you were a kid. I can see that now.”

  Claire laughed, just a little. She knew Frank had enough scruples to not hit her back.

  “You’ve got an arm,” her mother said. “We should think baseball league next spring.”

  Frank cut in with impatience: “Could you two shut up? All this mother-daughter bonding crap is getting on my last nerve.”

  “Frank, darling,” Zo said, “did you have a bad relationship with your mommy?”

  “No,” he said. “Maybe. Anyway, are you ready to shut up so I can finish the job here?”

  “Do it,” Zo said. “You’re not going to find anything. Even the gold ring is probably worth twenty-five dollars at best at a pawn shop.”

  Frank set his bolt cutters back in his suitcase, then got on his knees and hefted the casket open, making squeaking and cracking noises as it went.

  There was what was left of the seaman, his skeletal frame completely black, old-fashioned cloth pants now hard and sunken against his pelvis and knee-caps. A couple beetles scurried out of an empty eye socket and went back into hiding through his toothy grin.

  It made Claire shudder. But she pulled out her cell phone to take a video.

  Frank had no hesitations. He felt the skeleton up, nearly inch by inch. Feeling something strange, he pulled back the coat, beside some big buttons. There was a book.

  “The Bible,” Zo said.

  Claire nodded.

  Frank ripped it away from the corpse with a crackling sound. He flipped a thumb across the pages, then tossed it aside, onto the heap of clay near them. “Religion didn’t do him any good,” he said. “Poor schmuck. Washed up at sea. No ark to save him.”

  Zo shook her head at Frank’s conclusion. “Life goes on,” she said, “beyond death.”

  Frank’s eyes met hers, with hardness. “Don’t preach at me, woman. Like I’ve said a million times, there’s no such thing as ghosts, which means there’s no spirits. Nada. No heaven.”

  “Whatever you say.” She rolled her eyes. “Just hurry and check the man’s pockets. There has to be the gold ring in there somewhere.”

  Frank did feel something within his left pants pocket, but it was completely sealed with age. He pulled a sharp pair of scissors out of his suitcase and got to work, until he could pinch the discovery out with his thick fingers. He lifted it up for them all to see.

  It was the wedding band.

  “What’s it say?” Zo said, and Claire stepped closer, with her phone’s camera still recording.

  Frank eyed it a moment, then lifted it back toward the phone. “Says, ‘My love forever. Ted.’”

  “Ted Miller!” Zo and Claire said at the same time.

  “Who’s that?” Frank asked.

  Zo said with a wide smile, “Isobel’s fiancé.”

  The sound of sudden rushing wind caught everyone’s attention, bringing with it a scent of lavender.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Claire turned off her cell phone. “Smell that?” she asked, perking her nose in the air.

  It was undeniably pungent.

  Frank shifted his dark eyes back and forth between the ladies, with a bit of a start. He stood up and eyed their surroundings. “Lacey!” he called. His voice echoed back. “I know you’re out there!”

  But there was no response. Just another whoosh of wind carrying the floral scent, now stronger.

  Frank got up and started pacing, before he took off around the graveyard, searching behind trees and tombstones, even the chapel and mausoleum.

  “He’s going to go mad,” Zo said.

  Claire smiled, then, inhaling an especially deep breath, her brown eyes keenly scanned their surroundings. “You think Isobel is here?”

  Zo nodded right away. “Yes.”

  “I’m going to find you!” Frank called out in the distance. “And your perfume!”

  The mother and daughter looked back at the open grave, at Tim Miller’s body lying there in the casket.

  “We solved the last mystery,” Zo said.

  “Yeah, but what good will it do if the community has no idea?”

  “Oh, we’ll let them know…”

  “Lacey!” Frank yelled.“Get over here right this instant! Show yourself!”

  “Frank!” Zo shouted. “Come finish your job! You need to cover the grave!”

  He came, taking long strides, looking disgusted. “She doesn’t fool me,” he said, picking up and replacing the rotting casket lid. Then he began throwing back the dirt.
<
br />   On the way out of the cemetery, Zo picked up Ted Miller’s old Bible and carried it with them back to the castle.

  “What are you doing with that?” Claire asked as they rang the front door’s intercom buzzer.

  A tired voice responded, “Who goes there?”

  “Zoey and Claire,” Zo said, pushing another button. “Your favorite guests.”

  Not a minute went by before the front door swung open in haste and there stood Dracula. “What are you doing out this late? Didn’t you have enough of a fright for one evening?”

  “We can never have too much fun,” Zo said, stepping on her toes to hug him around his neck.

  Frank burst through the still-open doorway. “Where is she?!” he asked, his eyes swinging from one place to another, searching.

  “Who?” Dracula asked, pressing his long fingers to his chest.

  “Isobel,” he said. “I mean Lacey. Where’s the little tramp?”

  It was Dracula’s turn to punch Frank. This one knocked him to the ground. The vamp shook his hand, as if feeling some of his own pain from the blow. Zo and Claire were getting used to being surprised.

  Frank pulled up to hands and knees weakly. “What’s the deal?” he uttered.

  “Lacey is in bed,” Dracula said.

  “Oh yeah?” Frank got up, a red mark appearing on his cheek. “We’ll see about that.” He took off running up the stairs.

  The Kanes and Dracula bolted after him.

  Frank was soon banging on Lacey’s bedroom door.

  Dracula appeared behind him in a flash, with the Kanes.

  Lacey opened the door, her platinum blond hair a mess, her eyes squinting. “What?! Is there a fire?”

  Frank pushed open her door all the way, forcing entry. He stepped all around the room, sniffing at the air, her bed sheets, even her hair.

  “Get off me!” Lacey recoiled to a corner. “What is wrong with you?”

  As Dracula and the Kanes stepped into the room with disapproving glares, Frank took his turn to recoil. “I-I smelled lavender out in the cemetery,” he said, his voice shaking. “It-it had to be Lacey. But I can’t smell it in here. I don’t smell anything.”

  Frank actually crumbled to the hard floor, dipping his head between his legs and pulling at his hair. “This makes no sense,” he said. “Makes no sense. No sense.”