part0027

EVAN DIDN’T HEAR a thing. Lost in his thoughts as he stared at the house, the background noises of the street and people in the cemetery merged into one, masking individual sounds. Then a sudden squawking beep of a horn. A man on a ride-on mower swerved violently around him, close enough that the grass cuttings peppered the back of his legs. He jumped, heart in his throat, let out a surprised yelp. The echoes of the man’s irritated words carried clear over the noise of the mower’s engine.

Evan watched him spin the mower around in a tight arc, two wheels lifting off the ground, the way any municipal worker livens up a tedious job. He stepped out in front of the mower as it bore down on him. If ride-on mowers have gears, the driver changed down, accelerated at him. Evan held his ground, saw the grin on the driver’s face turn to panic. He stomped on the brakes, the mower skidding to a long, fishtailing halt as he turned the wheel at the last minute. He leapt from the seat before it stopped moving, mouth open as he stared in horror at the twin skid marks snaking across the freshly-mowed grass.

‘What the fu—’

He caught himself, remembered that the City doesn’t like its employees cussing at grief-stricken members of the public paying their respects at the grave of a loved one.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

He didn’t wait for an answer, frantically tried to smooth the furrows flat with his foot. He ran his hand through his hair, shook his head in disgust as he only made it worse.

‘Sorry,’ Evan said. ‘I was miles away.’

He saw Mower Man’s earlier way of describing that state of mind go through his thoughts once more, put a half-smile on his face, both apologetic and conspiratorial.

‘Head up my ass, I mean.’

Mower Man didn’t know whether to laugh or not, unsure whether Evan would report him to his supervisor.

‘Don’t worry about it.’

Evan dialed the conspiratorial grin up a notch.

‘Makes the job more exciting, huh? See how many old folks you can run down. Maybe give somebody a heart attack.’

The guy was eyeing him now as if maybe Evan had climbed out of one of the graves while he wasn’t looking. The one where they threw all the retards in together in the old days. He sure as hell didn’t know how to respond.

‘I’d get bored too,’ Evan said. ‘Driving up and down all day, nothing ever happening.’

He was getting bored now in fact, trying to prompt the guy into saying, no, you’ll never guess what happened the other day. Then the guy obliged. He pulled a crumpled pack of Marlboros out of his pocket, offered one to Evan.

Evan shook his head, no thanks.

‘Funny you should say that.’ He took his time lighting the cigarette. Then he sucked half of it down in one hit, let it out slowly. Coughed for a minute or two, made Evan think about asking if he knew why they were called coffin nails. ‘This place is normally quiet as the grave.’

Evan laughed dutifully. He tried smoothing the furrows in the grass—did a better job than Mower Man had—to give himself something to do while he waited for the guy to get to the damn point.

‘Hell of a coincidence, standing right here, too.’

Evan forced himself not to turn his head. Not to look directly at the house. A hot worm of excitement twisted in his gut.

‘Really? Why’s that?’

‘There was this homeless Cajun guy called Armand used to hang around by the gates.’ He waved off towards the gates behind Evan, might as well have been throwing Evan’s hopes into the trash can over there while he was at it. ‘He used to sleep in the vaults some of the time. Smelled like it too. In the daytime he’d sit by the front gate. I reckon he thought people coming to visit a grave would feel sorry for him. Maybe give him more money so he didn’t end up in here permanently.’

Evan agreed that was most likely the case.

‘I asked him one time how much he made, what his best day was.’

‘Bet he didn’t tell you.’

‘Nope. Reckon it was more than I make.’

He took another long hit on his cigarette. Evan breathed the smell of freshly-cut grass deep into his lungs. He was tempted to suggest the guy could save money and his lungs if he did the same instead of smoking. He felt the conversation sliding towards one long gripe about the wages the City paid, and from there onto a thousand other grievances.

‘You said it was a hell of a coincidence.’

Mower Man looked at him for a moment as if he didn’t know what he was talking about, his weathered face creased into a frown.

‘Standing here.’

‘Right. About Armand. I was on my break, sitting over there.’ He pointed towards one of the larger vaults. ‘I was sitting on the ground, leaning against it. Having a quick smoke.’

He held up his almost-finished cigarette to help Evan get into the story. Evan was having trouble not laughing out loud at the words quick smoke . Looking at the vault the man had pointed to, he knew he’d chosen it because of its size. It was big enough for a seated man to sit behind and have a very long smoke safe from prying eyes.

If the conversation ever headed the way he was hoping it would, that vault had saved Mower Man’s life.

He wandered over to it. A large Iguana sunning itself on the rough stone watched him approach, then darted away when he got too close. He sat down with his back to the stone wall of the vault. Mower Man was looking at him now as if it was time he got back into whichever grave he’d climbed out of. From where he was sitting Evan had a direct line of sight to the house on the other side of the street. He’d have had a perfect view of the couple taking the video as well.

But nestled down amongst the graves, nobody would have noticed him, given his express purpose of remaining hidden.

‘Good spot,’ Evan said, re-joining him.

‘Anyway, I was finishing my break when I saw this young couple taking a video of themselves.’

A buzz kicked in with a vengeance in Evan’s gut. He kept his face deadpan.

‘That’s young people for you. They’ll video anything.’

‘You’re not kidding. Anyway, I stayed where I was. Didn’t want to get in their video, spoil it for them.’

Evan did the easy translation from Municipal Employee to English: Didn’t want to get caught on film taking an unauthorised break.

‘Then Armand walks up to them. I think maybe he said he’d take it for them for a couple of bucks. The guy told him to piss off. So loud I heard it from where I was sitting. That wasn’t necessary even if Armand does smell pretty bad. I reckon Armand thought the same thing or maybe he was having a slow day, I don’t know, but the next thing, he snatched the phone out of his hand and runs off with it.’

Evan felt as if he’d run into a mental brick wall. What ? Mower Man was really getting into his stride now, re-living the most exciting day since he’d been hired.

‘At the same time, something’s going on in that house.’ He nodded sideways towards it, rather than point, made Evan wonder if he knew what went on in there, didn’t want to be caught pointing at it. ‘The door burst open and this guy almost falls over himself coming out. He must have been somebody important because he’s got a bodyguard waiting for him outside the door.’

He glanced surreptitiously at the house now, just a quick flick of the eyes. As if he was scared he might still be there now. He took a step closer to Evan so that his back was to the house now, dropped his voice. Evan huddled in. To a casual observer they looked like two men deciding how best to explain the twin skid marks in the grass to their supervisor.

‘The thing is, the bodyguard caught his boss to stop him from falling flat on his face, helps him to the car, then leaves him there. He sets off running after Armand. He pushes the young couple who are standing in a daze out of the way and goes tearing down the street after him. He’d seen him steal their phone.’

‘So what happened then?’

‘No idea. The young couple started to have an argument about whether they should go after him or not. Then the woman walks off in the other direction. The guy’s standing there with his head going side to side like he’s watching a tennis match. Then he goes after the woman. Maybe it was a cheap phone and he didn’t care.’

‘What about the bodyguard? Or Armand?’

Mower Man put a mildly indignant frown on his face.

‘I couldn’t just sit around waiting all day. I had work to do. Anyway, I thought I’d ask Armand the next time I saw him. Except then I thought, he might be homeless but he ain’t stupid. He’s not gonna come back here right after he stole a phone. And I was right, I haven’t seen him since.’

Evan could have told him he probably wasn’t going to either. He also could have told him his laziness and the animal cunning that had helped him find the perfect spot for shirking had saved his life. He didn’t think scaring the guy was going to help, asked him something else instead.

Because something had just struck him. In the video the body of the man taking the selfie had obscured the face of the man who fell out of the door. What were the chances that he had also been in a direct line between Mower Man leaning on the vault and the man leaving the house? Because unless he had been in that direct line, Mower Man would have had a view of the man as he emerged.

‘Did you recognize the guy who came out of the house?’

It appeared he did. Because of the way he said no . Very quickly. Evan felt as if he was back with Detective Deutsch, being given negative answers to his questions even before he asked them. It was that same animal instinct for self-preservation.

‘Never seen him before in my life. Now I’ve got work to do, if you’ll excuse me.’

Then he leaned in closer. Evan’s stomach did a flip. Was he just being cautious? A loudly-voiced denial followed by a whispered secret— here, write this down.