Chapter 24

After lunch, Sam drove out on Oakhurst Road. He slowed down, passing the Horner house. Only its chimney and half a wall remained standing. The rest of the house had fallen to a charred pile of debris.

Next door, the Sherwood house seemed almost cheerful.

Wouldn’t be such a bad place, Sam thought, if somebody’d move in and fix it up.

Driving past the house of Clara Hayes, he saw the morning newspaper on her front lawn. He wondered why she hadn’t picked it up yet.

Across the road, he saw a group of brightly-clad golfers on the green of the third hole. One of the men waved at him. Though he only glimpsed the man, he tapped his horn twice in greeting.

Then he tried to remember what he’d been thinking about before the golfer waved.

Something about the Sherwood house?

Wouldn’t make a bad fixer-upper.

Maybe Morley could sell it to the Horners, if they ever showed up again. Assuming Hank isn’t the one who killed Dexter.

Though Sam knew little about Hank Horner, he saw no reason to believe the man was involved. The burning house and disappearance of the family were certainly not proof.

Strange, though, that it happened the day after Dex got killed. Maybe a connection, but not the one Berney was hoping for. Maybe both men had the same enemy. Maybe whoever chopped up Dex …

Sam moaned as he again saw himself lift the toilet seat and look down at Dexter’s floating head. He took a deep breath.

‘Whoever killed Dex killed the Horners, ’ he said aloud. The sound of his voice drove the memories away. ‘Burnt the house to destroy any physical evidence he – she – they left behind. So where are the bodies? If they’re not in the house …’ He clucked his tongue as he thought. ‘If they’re not in the house …? ’ he repeated. ‘Buried out back? ’

He remembered what was ‘out back’ of the Horner house.

Oakhurst Cemetery.

Dendron could wait. If he didn’t see Thelma this afternoon, he’d find her tonight.

Slowing, he swung the car into a U-turn and sped back toward the cemetery.

The wrought-iron gates of Oakhurst Cemetery stood open. Sam drove through, and followed the narrow road to the parking lot. Except for a black Coup de Ville and a pick-up truck, the lot was deserted. He parked, and climbed out. Walking into the wind, he watched dry leaves tumble and skitter toward him.

The grass on the rolling fields looked bright green in the sunlight and he thought, with a pang of nostalgia, what a great day this would be for touch football.

A great day, but not a great place.

The door of the cemetery office opened, and a tall gray-haired man stepped out, his suit jacket flapping in the wind. When he saw Sam, his head tipped back and he smiled. He changed course, slightly, and approached.

‘Wyatt. ’

‘Brandner, ’ Sam said, shaking hands with his old friend.

‘What’s a nice fellow like you doing in a place like this? ’

‘I was about to ask you the same thing, ’ Sam told him.

‘Too windy for tennis. Perfect weather for a Bloody Mary, though. How about joining me? ’

‘Believe me, I’d like to. ’

‘Busy detecting, I presume. ’

‘Right. ’

The smile left Brandner’s lean face. ‘Rotten about Dexter. I hear you’re the one who found him. ’

‘Yeah. ’

‘He was a good man. I guess you’ll be here Sunday for the interment. ’

‘Yeah. ’

‘Christ, it gets to me when a guy I know … Well, business is business, I guess. One of these fine days, I’m gonna chuck all this and buy me a bar. ’

‘Hope you do it soon. ’

‘How about a partnership? ’

‘Just tell me when. ’

‘I guess you must have plenty socked away, from all your graft. ’

‘A bundle. Right now, though, I’ve got some snooping to do. ’

‘Snoop away. ’

‘I know you wouldn’t be caught dead here at night …’

‘Touché! ’

‘But do you know if anything unusual happened here last night? ’

Brandner rubbed his chin, and shook his head. ‘You don’t mean the fire, I take it. ’

‘The Horners’ bodies weren’t found. ’

‘You’re thinking they segued into my bone orchard? ’

‘I’d like to find out. If they were murdered, the killer probably didn’t move them far. ’

‘Why move them at all? ’

‘Don’t ask me. If they weren’t in the house, though, where are they? ’

‘Visiting Aunt Mary? ’

‘Do you want to come along? ’ Sam asked.

‘Where? ’

‘I want to check the area in back of their house. ’

‘I suppose my Bloody Marys can wait. ’

They walked, side by side, to the far end of the parking lot, then up a grassy slope, passing between well-tended grave sites.

‘To think I used to play here as a wee child, ’ Brandner said. ‘My cousin cured me of that. We were playing tag, one day, blithely scampering among the graves – did I ever tell you this? ’

Sam had heard the story a couple of times before, over drinks, but he shook his head.

‘She – my cousin – tripped in a gopher hole. She looked down the hole, and kept looking and looking. I said, “Hey, what’re you doing? ” The little bitch said, “There’s somebody down there winking at me. ”’

‘Did you take a look? ’

‘Are you kidding? I ran like hell, and wouldn’t come near this place for a year. Christ, I still get the creeps whenever I see a gopher hole around here. And there’re plenty. I often suspect the little buggers are carnivorous. ’

‘You’d better buy that bar soon. ’

‘Don’t I know it. This business is not for the squeamish. Should’ve sold out when my father died. ’

‘Why didn’t you? ’

‘A sense of family obligation, I suppose. Obligation gets to you every time. ’

Ahead, through the trees and monuments, Sam saw the wrought-iron fence of the cemetery boundary. The dark chimney of the Horner h

ouse stood not far beyond it.

Brandner frowned. ‘You think someone chucked their bodies over my fence? ’

‘Maybe buried them over here. ’

‘A logical place, I suppose. ’

‘Any recent graves over here? ’

‘Open ones? No. And I think Willie would’ve noticed if someone had been digging. He’s a sot, but he’s not deaf and blind. ’

‘It’s a big cemetery. ’

‘He makes regular rounds. He’s supposed to, anyhow. ’

They reached the fence. Sam looked through at the rubble. The wind carried a pungent odor of burnt wood.

With his back to the fence, he looked down its length. The gravestones, monuments, and clusters of trees and bushes offered plenty of places to conceal bodies or crouch, out of sight, to dig a hole.

‘I hope you’re wrong about this, ’ Brandner said.

‘It’s worth a look. ’

They began walking alongside the fence, occasionally separating while one inspected the ground behind a tree or gravestone.

‘If these Horners were murdered, ’ Brandner said, ‘you would have to suspect they were done in by the one who killed Dexter. ’

‘I’ve thought of that. ’

‘Thought you might’ve. Has it also occurred to you that we’re now directly behind the Sherwood house? ’

‘What about it? ’

‘Seems a bit funny, to me, that two families, right next door to each other, should get slaughtered. ’

‘Fifteen years apart. ’

‘How many mass murders have we had in Ashburg? Two. Fifteen years apart, but side by side. Seems funny to me. I think, if I were looking for the Horners’ bodies – which I apparently am, thanks to you – I’d take a look in the Sherwood house. ’

‘I may do that. ’

‘Fine. Let’s forget all this and … well well well. ’

As Brandner crouched behind a tombstone, Sam rushed to his side. ‘There were bodies here, all right, ’ his friend said.

On the grass by the tombstone lay a collapsed tube of pink latex.

‘Live ones, ’ Sam added.

‘In my experience, ’ said Brandner, ‘corpses rarely use rubbers. ’

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