Jeff Strand - Graverobbers Wanted - No Experience Necessary

Slowly, I unzipped his jacket, thankful that no blood had spilled anywhere I needed to touch. I opened it and checked each of the inside pockets, finding a stack of about ten business cards held together with a brass clip. In oozing red letters were the words "Ghoulish Delights.Michael Ashcraft, director," along with an address and phone number. I pocketed the cards, and then closed his jacket.

I grabbed hold of Michael by the waist and rolled him over. His neck made a sickening sort of cracking sound as something twisted that shouldn't have.

Once Michael was on his stomach, I patted his back pockets and found nothing, not even a wallet. Damn. With all the pockets searched, I was going to have to move on to less appealing possibilities.

But not his mouth yet.

I stood up. "I need your help," I told Roger. "I'm going to lift him up, and you look to see if the key is lying underneath him."

Roger walked over and crouched down next to the edge of the grave. I grabbed the top of Michael's jeans and grunted as I lifted him up, his body doubling over at the waist.

"Nothing there," said Roger.

I gently lowered Michael, and then sighed. "I don't know what to do. I'm not going to strip the guy naked to find this stupid key."

"Good. Let's get out of here," Roger suggested.

"Not quite yet." I bent down again and pulled up the left leg of Michael's jeans, exposing his white tube sock.Nothing hidden there. I untied his tennis shoe, set it aside, and removed his sock.Still nothing except for some blatant evidence that toenail hygiene had not been a major part of Michael's life.

I removed his other shoe, and something dropped out.

A tiny silver key.

"All right!"I said, picking it up. "Now let's rebury him and get out of here."

I shoved the key into my pocket and climbed out of the grave. With my foot I shut the lid of the coffin. It didn't close all the way, but Michael was just going to have to deal with it. Silently, Roger and I began to shovel the dirt back into the grave.

JENNIFER'S CAR was waiting at the gate, and she hurriedly got out as we approached. "Did you get it?" she called out.

"We'll tell you all about it after we put this stuff back in your trunk," I said.

"Yes or no, did you get it?"

"Hey, we're just a pair ofgraverobbers trying to relax after a hard night at the office, give us a break. Do you have the money?"

"Of course.Do you have the key?"

"By `the key,' you would be referring to a small silver object, maybe an inch and a half long, three triangular serrations on the end, smells heavily of foot odor, right?"

"That's the one," said Jennifer, obviously starting to lose her patience.

"I've got it, but I want some answers first," I told her. "How did your husband die?"

"I told you.Suicide. He blew his brains out, or did you not notice?"

"Is that so? Then why was his head lacking a bullet hole for the aforementioned brains to exit from?"

She frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm saying that he wasn't shot."

"That's ridiculous. Of course he was!"

"Jennifer, sweetie, we just dug up his coffin. I saw his body. His head was intact. He didn't shoot himself. Now why don't you explain to me what really happened, and I'll decide if you deserve the key."

Jennifer chuckled without humor. "I have to say, you're a much better human being than I expected. I did plenty of research, and the impression I got was that you'd do anything for money except get a real job."

"What? Who told you that?"

"None of your business."

"Well, that's wrong," I insisted. "I didn't dig up your husband because I'm some money-grubbing jerk! I did it to keep my wife from finding out that I had to pay off the guy I hit without insurance! That's not greed, that's an honorable motive!"

"What did they say about me?" asked Roger.

"Quiet, both of you," said Jennifer. "Now what do you mean, there was no bullet hole? Then how did he die?"

I folded my arms in front of my chest and spoke slowly, milking every bit of dramatic impact I could. "Until shortly after midnight, he wasn't dead. Your husband was buried alive."

Jennifer's expression of shock certainly looked genuine. "Hewhat? "

"He was alive, he'd gone completely insane, and he had a gun. He didn't kill himself with a bullet to the head; he ripped his eyes out and probably had a heart attack. So I'd like a teeny, tiny, little bit of explanation."

Jennifer looked as if she were going to be sick. "Oh, God...I need my inhaler." She opened her purse and fished around inside it for a moment.

But she didn't take out an inhaler. She took out a pistol.

"I don't have time for this," she said. "Give me the key so I can give you your money!"

It was the first time I'd ever had a gun pointed at me, if you don't count Michael firing through the coffin lid, and I'm pleased to report that I handled myself very bravely, in that I didn't wet or soil myself. But the feeling rushed out of my legs and for a second I thought I was going to keel over.

"Drop it!" shouted Roger, taking out Michael's revolver and aiming it at Jennifer. Her eyes darted toward him, but she kept her own gun pointed at me.

"Oh, give it up," said Jennifer. "I don't believe for a second that you'll kill me."

Roger shrugged."Probably not. But I might try and shoot the gun out of your hand, and my aim sucks."

"He's not kidding," I said. Actually, Michael had used up the last of the bullets during his little shooting spree, but I certainly wasn't going to tell that to Jennifer.

Suddenly Jennifer gasped as a bit of blood spattered onto her face. An arrow protruded from her left shoulder. She let her purse fall to the ground and stumbled forward a couple of steps as Roger and I spun around to see where the arrow had come from. Whoever had fired it was hiding amid some trees near the gate.

Another arrow shot out of the darkness, striking Roger in the upper thigh and plunging deep. He let out a cry of pain and tried to make it to the sedan, but within a few seconds another arrow got him in the back. He went down.

I rushed toward a large tree close to the source of the arrows, trying desperately to reach it before I got pierced. An arrow sailed past my leg, missing by inches. After I made it to the tree, which provided sufficient cover as long as the assailant didn't change his or her position, I glanced back at Roger. He lay on the ground, unmoving, while Jennifer threw open the car door and got inside.

A moment later she slammed her fist against the steering wheel in frustration, and I realized that her keys were in the fallen purse. She got back out of the car, rested her right arm on the roof, and fired four shots into the darkness. I didn't hear any sound to indicate that she'd hit anyone.

For a full minute Jennifer and I didn't budge. I could see that Roger was still breathing, though he didn't appear to be conscious. I listened for footsteps, but heard none.

"Okay, Robin Hood, the game's over!" I shouted. "Come out and show yourself!"

Some footsteps began to approach, and they couldn't be more than ten feet away. I figured the person was out of arrows, but I didn't want to test that theory by revealing myself.

"Listen to me," I said. "I'm just the hired help, and I'm perfectly willing to talk this out."

There was no response except for the footsteps getting even closer until it was obvious that the person was on the other side of the tree. The idea that I might be slightly screwed occurred to me, but I tried not to dwell on it.

Okay, I had to do something besides stand there. If the Mad Archer did have more arrows, it wouldn't be difficult to get me into the line of sight and fire. So what I needed to do was leap out and get the element of surprise on my side.

I leapt out and was promptly hit in the side of the head by a metal chain, which surprised me. I would have reflected upon how much it hurt, but I was only conscious for a couple of seconds afterward.