Jeff Strand - Graverobbers Wanted - No Experience Necessary

"Inhismouth ?You want us to reach inside a corpse's mouth? And maybe even touch a dead tongue? Have you taken hygiene into consideration?"

"Are you turning down the job?"

"I still haven't said that." I looked at Roger to seeifhe had said that. He hadn't. He was just sitting there looking confused. "How long do you think it takes a dead tongue to dry out?" I asked.

"I have no idea. Now do you want the job or not?"

"I have a couple thousand more questions first. Such as, I'm not an expert in the field, but aren't caskets meant to be permanently sealed? Wouldn't I need to bring along a jackhammer or something?"

"Cheap pine box.Shallow grave.Well-hidden area. A park, actually."

I stared at her for a long moment. "Not to be rude, but I find that a little disconcerting."

"I didn't murder my husband."

"I never would have dreamed otherwise. How did he die?"

"Suicide.And I'd rather not discuss it."

"Fair enough.May I ask why he's lying in a cheap pine box in a shallow grave in a well-hidden area of a park rather than a state-approved casket in a designated graveyard burial site?"

"I'd rather not discuss that, either."

"Okay, how about an easier question. Why did you pick us?"

Jennifer smiled. "I've done my research." She glanced at her wristwatch and sighed. "Listen, I know men hate having to make a commitment, but I'm going to need one right now. Do you want the job?"

Twenty thousand dollars.Well, ten thousand for me.Plus the chance to add something new to my resume. But in terms of eliciting Helen's fury, it had the potential of making the videotaping debacle look like passing out toys to doe-eyed orphans at Christmas.

And yeah, I really needed the money, but spending time in jail forgraverobbing would really look bad on a job application.

Ah, screw it. What's life without risk?

"What do you think?" I asked Roger. "It would pay for that trip toLas Vegas you've been dreaming about."

"Ummm...all right." Roger was never big on the concept of independent thought.

"Okay, Jennifer, you've got yourself a pair ofgraverobbers ."

HELEN WAS working nightshift, and the kids spent every Wednesday night during the summer with Helen's parents. I love my in-laws and they tolerate me, but sending the kids over there on a weekly basis was most certainly not my idea. Have you ever tried to discipline children who've been allowed to stay up as late as they want and do whatever they want and whose blood sugar invariably tests six times over the legal definition of "wired?" It doesn't work.

However, not having my wife or kids around meant that I wouldn't have to be home until 6 A.M. Roger and I got in Jennifer's sleek silver sedan and went for a forty-five minute drive, during which she kept the radio volume loud and was unresponsive to our questions.

We ended up inFleetPark , which is a decent little place located up north, in an area generally known as "way the hell out in the boondocks." Jennifer stopped her car in front of the closed gate and shut off the engine.

"So, are you boys ready?"

She was trying to maintain the casual attitude she'd had in the Blizzard Room, but it was starting to falter. Probably had a little to do with the whole digging up her dead husband thing.

I have to admit, I was feeling a bit queasy myself. "I guess so."

She reached down and pulled the trunk release lever, then handed me a folded piece of paper. "You'll find shovels, lanterns, working gloves, and beer in the back. These instructions will show you how to find where he was buried. It's about a mile away, and you'll have to cross through some thick brush.Oh, and there's also a snakebite kit in the cooler, just in case."

"That's very thoughtful," Roger said. "Aren't you coming with us?"

"If I didn't have a problem being near my husband's corpse, I wouldn't have hired you two." She handed Roger a cellular phone. "My beeper number is written on the instructions. Page me when you're done, and I'll be back to pick you up. Now go dig him up, get the key, rebury the grave just as you found it, and come back here. Then you'll get your money."

WE CLIMBED over the gate with no problem and then we were on a dirt path most of the time, so the walk wasn't so bad, except for the fact that Roger made me carry the cooler. After we had to step off the path and walk through moist brush, the fear of disturbing one of the numerous varieties ofFlorida snakes made things a little less pleasant, but we hurried through without encountering anything more fearsome than an armadillo. Though to be honest, the armadillo scared the hell out of us.

The grave was in a small clearing. Though the site wasn't marked with anything helpful like a sign reading "Dead Guy Below," the freshly turned dirt made it obvious that we were in the right place.

I set down the cooler and sighed. "Well, Roger, this is our last chance to wimp out. We'regraverobbing for a woman who probably murdered her husband. Think it's worth the money?"

"I don't know. Let's not even think about it. Let's just dig."

THE DIRT WASN'T difficult to move,and the digging went fairly quickly. About half an hour later, at approximately the stroke of midnight, we'd unearthed an area about two feet deep. Roger leaned against a tree, finishing a beer as he took his fourth break for the evening. He put the empty can back in the cooler. We may violate burial sites, but damn it, we don't litter.

"And so resumes the twenty-third annual Fleet ParkGraverobbing Competition," Roger announced, using the handle of his shovel like a microphone. "It looks like our champion, Andrew Mayhem, is currently leading in the dirt removal process, but can hesustain such an incredible pace?"

"You're pretty cheerful for somebody digging up a coffin," I muttered. "Correction, you're pretty cheerful for somebody sitting on his lazy buttwatchingme dig up a coffin."

"I'm not sitting, I'm standing."

"Shut up. You've been spending too much time around my daughter. Get in here and help me dig so we can get this over with. You may not be aware of this little tidbit of information, but if we get caught we're screwed."

I pushed down on the shovel, and heard adullthud sound. "And he strikes casket!" Roger broadcast. "The crowd goes wild!" He mimicked a crowd going wild as I crouched down and began to push dirt away with my hands.

"Who the hell would drag a heavy coffin all the way out here?" I wondered aloud. "Why not just bury him in a garbage bag or something?"

"That would be disrespectful," Roger pointed out.

In a couple of minutes, I'd exposed half of the coffin lid. The only thing holding it closed was a padlock, which wasn't going to withstand a good smack with my shovel. I lifted the shovel to do just that, when Roger suddenly tensed.

"Did you hear that?"

"What?"

"I think somebody's coming! Hide!"

Roger hurriedly pressed himself against the tree, while I got down on my stomach and hid from sight in the grave. It occurred to me that if this was the police, and they found me lying facedown on a coffin at midnight, I'd probably be going away for a long, long time.

We waited.

Silence.

A couple of minutes passed.

"Maybe I was wrong," said Roger, stepping away from the tree.

I stood back up, brushing off my shirt, and gave him what I deemed to be a suitably dirty look. "Just for that, you're the one searching the corpse for the key. Put on the gloves."

"Let me give that idea full consideration before I reject it," said Roger. He pretended to think for a moment. "Okay, now I've rejected it."

"If we're dividing the money equally, we should divide the duties equally. And since I've done about seven-eighths of the digging, I think it's only fair that you should have to reach into a corpse mouth if it becomes necessary."