I ate a sensible breakfast of oatmeal and fruit, knowing full well, that my good intentions would probably be obliterated by one of Elsie's Thursday morning chocolate cranberry scones. They were a hot item at this time of year, so I'd left Elsie with a standing order to put one aside for me. But to further my good intentions, I followed my healthy breakfast with a brisk bike ride.
An aqua blue sky with puffy white clouds covered the town and the sun had lent enough warmth that I decided to ride to work. Kingston had no interest in flying to town. He saw me pull on my bicycle helmet and dashed back into his cage.
I pedaled down Myrtle Place, glad that I'd remembered to pull on my gloves. The sun had warmed things up, but riding against the wind was chilly. My sunglasses kept the wind from burning my eyes, but my nose was numb. I glided downhill past Grayson Church and its cemetery. I was just about to pedal past when I noticed the groundskeeper was cleaning pigeon droppings off the stone angel in front of the Price family burial vault. It was positioned on a small grassy knoll above the rest of the graveyard. I'd made several trips to the cemetery, focused mostly on the Hawksworth family plot, and, in particular, the small unmarked grave next to the rest of the family. No one seemed to know who was buried in the unmarked grave, and I hadn't, yet, uncovered the mystery. But after my visit with Marty, I was newly focused on Jane Price and her field of lavender. Did Jane write the lavender filled love letters to Bertram? I badly wanted to find the answer.
Fortunately, I'd made enough visits to the cemetery to get to know Chuck, the groundskeeper. He was a big, silent guy who rarely smiled, but he never seemed to mind answering a few annoying questions.
Chuck was wearing his signature work coveralls, dull gray to match the stones on the church. It seemed this fine morning he had the unenviable task of scraping bird poop off porous stone statues. Being rather an expert on cleaning up after a messy bird, I felt a great deal of sympathy for the man.
He was scraping away with a tiny metal chisel when I walked up. I cleared my throat, deciding I might startle him if I just walked up and said his name. He didn't hear me over the scraping sound.
"Good morning, Chuck," I said brightly.
He looked up at the stone face of the angel he was cleaning, then he looked back over his shoulder. Relief washed over him. "Lacey, it's you. I thought the angel said my name. Thought maybe it was my time."
"Oh gosh, I'm sorry about that. Still, I'm glad it's not your time. I saw you chiseling away on that statue. I always wear something around my nose and mouth, like a bandana, when I'm cleaning up after Kingston. That way the powdery debris doesn't get sucked into your mouth."
He lowered his tool. "That's probably a good suggestion, but after ten years of cleaning these statues, I think I'm immune to whatever gets sucked in." He glanced over at the side of the cemetery road where I'd parked my bicycle. "Did you ride all the way up this hill just to tell me that, or is there something else in that curious head of yours?" Chuck always liked to get right to the point. I decided to do the same, only I wasn't sure if he was going to go along with my request.
"Would it be terribly inconvenient if I took a quick tour around the vault? I'd just like to see how the famous Price family rests in peace, as they say. I'm sure they must be buried in style."
"Not as fancy as you might think. They had plenty of power, those Price men, but they were never all that successful in business," Chuck said.
"That's interesting. Still, I'd love to just take a quick look around." I motioned toward the massive loop of keys on his belt. I flashed him my most enthusiastic smile. It seemed to do the trick.
With some hesitation, he reached down to the loop of keys and unclipped it. "Just a quick look, mind you. I'm almost done here, and I've got a dozen more statues to clean."
I nodded sharply. "I promise. Just a quick look around. Besides, it's probably not all that inviting in there," I added.
"Not unless you like cold, dark and musty smelling places," he quipped as he walked to the arched black door that led into the vault. I expected a few minutes of searching for the correct key, but he produced it with hardly any effort and unlocked the deadbolt. "Just a few minutes," he reminded me. "I'm going to keep working and make sure no one from the church walks this way. Not sure how I'd explain this little field trip."
"You're a peach, Chuck. I'll be right back." I pulled my own keys out and turned on the fairly powerful penlight my dad had insisted I always carry on my key chain. It had come in handy far more times than I expected, which made me feel extra silly considering the fuss I'd put up about hanging the thing on my keys.
An instant shiver went through me as I stepped into the main chamber. It wasn't just from the cold. It was always slightly alarming to see stone sarcophaguses just sitting inside a room like pieces of furniture. Chuck had been right. There were no special adornments or gold plated angels or any of the other fru fru things one might expect in a powerful family's tomb. Harvard Price had a simple block of stone with his name carved in it.
The smell of hundred-year-old dust and decay was already starting to penetrate my sensitive nose cells. I hurried around the chamber and directed my light at each stone. Fielding Price was buried next to his wife, Charlotte Price. His daughter, Henrietta, was buried next to Charlotte. His son, Denton, and the current mayor's father had his own section of the tomb. His wife, Claudia, was entombed next to him, along with a smaller sarcophagus for a daughter named Brenda. From the dates on the headstone, she'd only lived to the age of ten. Mayor Price had suffered the tragedy of losing a sister early in his life. I supposed that would help me respect him a bit more.
I walked back over to Harvard Price. There was no sarcophagus for Jane Price. His own daughter did not make the cut for the family vault. Or maybe she preferred not to be buried with the rest of them. It was entirely possible that she had moved away and married and was now resting in a cemetery next to her husband.
"Lacey? Are you finished?"
"Yes, coming right now." I was just as glad to step out of the cold, dark tomb and back into the sunshine. "Whoa, that place can make you feel really gloomy. Does it ever get to you?" I asked. "Working in a cemetery?"
He shook his head. "Nope. I used to work in a factory where machines were pounding on metal all day. This is the quietest place on earth."
"That makes sense. Well, thank you so much for allowing me to take a tour of the tomb."
"Find anything interesting?" he asked.
"Not sure but hopefully." I waved to him and hurried down to my bike. Once again, I was late for work. But it had been a productive morning nonetheless.