Read Sammy Keyes and the Night of Skulls Page 21


  I didn’t like the thought that there was a burial tomorrow. I could picture the Vampire embalming the body in the back room of the Bosley-Moore Funeral Home. I could picture the coffin. I could picture all the people gathered around the grave. It was like seeing the future, and something about it felt like my future.

  I tried to shake off the heebie-jeebies of that thought. It wasn’t my burial tomorrow. It was somebody else’s. Someone who was already dead.

  And I tried to get back to updating my school assignments, but instead I found myself writing burial in my November 1st box. And before you know it, I’m flipping back to October and duplicating the L-shape I had seen on Courtney’s calendar. I wrote burial on the 2nd, then went down two and over one and wrote burial on the 17th.

  Then I just sat there, not knowing why I was writing burial all over my calendar.

  Maybe I did have a morbid obsession with death.

  So I shake it off again and get back to organizing my papers. But then in my head I can hear Gordon telling Officer Borsch that October 16th was the day the tombstones were knocked over the first time.

  How did he remember it was the 16th?

  I went back to the calendar and drew a tombstone on the 16th and one on Halloween, because that was the other day someone knocked over a tombstone.

  And that’s when I realize that both squares with tombstones are next to squares with red BURIALS.

  My skin tries to crawl. It’s like a baby shiver, wanting to be big but just not having enough, you know, muscle. But it does feel like there’s something to this, so I just sit there, staring at my calendar, flipping back and forth between October and November.

  Had anything bad happened in the graveyard the night before October 2nd?

  Was something bad going to happen tonight?

  And then, like ink being sprayed onto my brain, I can see the opening sentence of the “Halloween Horrors” article in the newspaper: October ended the way it began—with a mysterious disappearance.

  All of a sudden my shiver’s got muscle.

  Big-time muscle.

  And as I sit there staring at my calendar, little bits and pieces from the past week snap together in my head. Pretty soon my lips are dry, my hands turn sweaty, and there’s one loud thought pounding through my head.

  What better place to hide a chicken than a chicken coop?

  I sat there with my heart banging and my mind racing, and finally I got up and put my ear to Grams’ door. It was only a little past eight-thirty, but I could hear her in there, snoring.

  So I went to the kitchen, and as quietly as I could I dialed Officer Borsch.

  It rolled straight over to voice mail.

  “It’s Sammy,” I whispered. “I think Dusty Mike is dead.… Where are you? I really wish you were there.… Anyway, if you get this, I’ll be at the graveyard. I think they’re going to hide his body tonight.”

  I hang up, then tiptoe back over to Grams’ door, and when I hear she’s still snoring, I grab a flashlight and my softball bat, put on my dark blue sweatshirt and my baseball cap, and start for the door.

  But I’m scared.

  I’m actually more scared than I’ve ever been.

  So I turn around and make another phone call.

  “Marissa?” I whisper when she answers the phone. “I need you to do me a big favor.”

  “Why are you whispering?”

  “Just listen. Please just listen.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I need you to call Billy and have him call Casey.”

  “Why don’t you just call Casey?”

  “Marissa, please. I can’t explain. This is very important, okay? Call Billy and have him tell Casey to meet me at the Sunset Crypt as soon as he can.”

  “The Sunset Crypt? In the graveyard? Now?”

  “It’s a long story, and I’ve got no time.”

  “Are you in trouble? What’s going on?”

  “Look, I’ve got to go. I’m counting on you to get the message to him. Do it now.”

  Then I hang up the phone.

  Before I leave the apartment, I set up the couch to make it look like I’m in bed and turn out the lights. Then I grab my skateboard and get down to Broadway as fast as I can.

  Before I’m even across the street, though, I hear someone calling, “Sammy!” and when I turn around, I see that it’s Holly, totally jayriding Broadway and Main on her skateboard to catch up to me. “Marissa called,” she pants. “She says she’s sure you’re getting yourself into some sort of danger.” She eyes the bat in my hand. “That you’re going to the graveyard.”

  I nod.

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  Now, the truth is I’m way relieved to have her riding beside me, but what comes out of my mouth is, “Because I already dragged you out there once. And really, you should just turn back. I asked Marissa to have Casey meet me because he’s up to speed on everything.”

  “So get me up to speed. What happened? What’s going on?”

  “It’s really long and complicated and it sounds nuts.”

  “Like I care? Tell me!”

  I glance at her. “What it comes down to is that a graveyard is the perfect place to hide a body. No one would ever think to look there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Say someone hides a body in a grave before they lower the casket in … who would know? They dig graves a day or two before a burial, then they cover it up with boards so people don’t fall in. Then the day of the burial they put a big lowering contraption over the hole that covers it up, and then they lower the casket into the grave.”

  “Are you saying someone could bury a second body in the grave the night before?”

  “Exactly. They’d barely have to cover it up. The casket gets lowered right on top. No one would ever know.”

  “So who do you think is doing this?”

  “Ted and Courtney.”

  “Who?”

  “Ted works at the cemetery and digs graves. He’s the one who fixed the pushed-over tombstones, but I think he also knocked them over.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Because they needed some excuse as to why they were there after hours.”

  “They being Ted and Courtney?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And Courtney is … ?”

  “Remember that red-haired lady in the van who almost ran us over on Halloween? Her.”

  “What does she have to do with this?”

  “She’s the office manager.”

  “The office manager!”

  “Right. Remember how she was on the cell phone when she almost ran the light? And then we saw her parked on that side street and we thought she was calling the cops on us? She wasn’t calling the cops. She was calling Ted. And you know where he was?”

  “Where?”

  “Under those boards we ran over.”

  “In that grave?”

  “Right. Today I found out that his ringtone sounds like a pack of angry dogs.”

  “So he was right there? Under us? Burying someone?”

  “Courtney must’ve been calling, giving him updates. And I’m guessing that when she almost ran the light she was frantically telling him that Gordon and the Vampire had shown up and to cover up. Gordon said they went in to investigate why the floodlight was off and that Courtney told them she was there because she’d seen kids in the graveyard. Again.”

  Holly’s catching on quick. “So then she parked on that side street where she could see when Gordon and the Vampire left, and let Ted know the coast was clear.”

  “Exactly. And us being there just made things easy for her. Like there we were, proof that there were kids messing in the graveyard.”

  “So Ted goes and pushes over a tombstone.”

  “That’s my guess. He’s the one who led Gordon and Officer Borsch to it. He might even have done it after he found out the police were coming. They must’ve thought they needed a distraction, or insurance
, or something to point to and say, See?”

  “But how’d you find out that Courtney works at the cemetery?”

  So I tell her about what had happened in the cemetery office and about the desk calendar and making the connection between the burial dates and the days people had gone missing. “You can’t keep a dead body around for very long—it starts to stink! And the window of opportunity is pretty short if you have to do it the night before a burial. And since there’s a burial scheduled for tomorrow, I’ve got to go there tonight.”

  We ride along for a minute and then she asks, “Do you think they’ve killed Dusty Mike?”

  I nod. “I think he must have overheard them, or seen something. I think they’re going to hide his body in the grave tonight. He’s been missing for almost three days.”

  “So they’ve got to be pretty desperate to get rid of the body.”

  “Right. I think Ted bought Gordon and the Vampire some kind of concert tickets for tonight so they wouldn’t get interrupted again.”

  We ride along fast for a little while and then Holly says, “Shouldn’t we be calling the police instead of trying to take murderers on alone?”

  “I left a message with Officer Borsch.”

  “You left a message? Ever heard of calling 911?”

  “How would I explain this? How would I explain this in time? It sounds so crazy! And I’m not planning to take them on—I just want to go and see if there’s anyone there.”

  “And if there is?”

  “I’ll figure that out then. Look, even if I could get the police to show up, I don’t think it would help nail them. I think Courtney’s the lookout and Ted does the burying. So if she sees the cops coming, she’s either going to pull the plug or tell him to hide. If we’re just watching from the old side, she’ll never know we’re there.” Then I add, “Besides, what if I’m wrong?”

  When we get to Nightingale, I check Dusty Mike’s mailbox again, even though I know the mail’s still going to be there.

  Even though I know I’m too late.

  And I really do feel like crying as I cross back over to the gate. It’s just all so frustrating and sad. “Maybe you can’t fire a guardian angel,” I mutter, “but I guess you can kill one.”

  “What’s that?” Holly asks.

  I shake my head. “Never mind. Let’s just get in there.” But at the last minute I stop and tell Holly, “You don’t have to come, you know. You can go home. Or wait right here.”

  “Are you nuts?”

  “I’m just saying … I know this isn’t safe and I shouldn’t drag you into it.”

  “Tough,” she says, squeezing through the gate.

  She starts to park her skateboard by the wall like we had the last time but I stop her. “Bring it.”

  “Why?”

  I look her in the eye. “It makes a good weapon.”

  “Wow,” she says, and looks at her board like she’s never fully appreciated it before.

  “It makes a good bed tray, too, in a pinch.”

  “I’ll have to try that,” she says with a grin.

  But that was the only joking we did. After that we were heart-whacking serious, going around tombstones and hurrying toward the Sunset Crypt. There was some moonlight, which helped, and I was glad for it because I really didn’t want to shine the flashlight.

  “Hey,” Holly says, “aren’t we near where his hoe was?”

  She’s right, and when I see it still lying on the ground, I hand her my softball bat and pick it up.

  “Nice,” she says, thinking what I’m thinking—that it would make a great weapon.

  Once we get up to the Sunset Crypt we spend a couple of minutes catching our breath, and then I start to get antsy. “You can’t see it from here, but there’s a breezeway between the office and the garages. It’s where they park cars.”

  “So you want to go see if there’s a van parked there?”

  I nod. “But Casey is supposed to meet me here. Can you wait while I look?”

  “No. We should stick together.”

  “I promise I’ll be right back.”

  “No!”

  So we stand there with a hoe, a bat, and two skateboards, waiting, until I finally can’t take it anymore. “Look, if the van’s not there, then we’re here for nothing! Either we’re too late, or we’re too early, or I’m just completely out of my mind about this double-burial thing!”

  “I don’t think you’re out of your mind,” Holly says. “I think you’re right.” She eyes me. “And I think we need some patience. It’s only nine-fifteen.”

  I look at her. “Do Meg and Vera know where you are?”

  “No. They’d both already called it a night.” She shrugs. “And I stuffed my bed.”

  I laugh. “I stuffed the couch!”

  “We’re terrible,” she says, but she’s grinning.

  “I think this is what Officer Borsch meant about friends getting each other to do things they shouldn’t. In the last week I’ve cut through the graveyard, infiltrated a funeral home, ditched my grandmother twice, rifled through an office, and tampered with mail. And I took a friend along for every single one!”

  “Or they took you along.”

  I let out a sigh. “It’s not like we broke anyone’s ribs, though, right?”

  “Yet,” Holly says.

  And then I see a silver van pull up to the main gate. “Look!” I gasp, pointing.

  We watch as Ted gets out of the passenger side and opens the gate and then waits for the van to drive through before closing it. And once he’s back inside, the headlights go off and the van pulls forward, disappearing behind the office.

  “What are we going to do?” Holly whispers.

  Just then there’s a noise behind us, and when we whip around, there’s Casey.

  And Billy.

  And Marissa.

  “You’re all here?” I gasp.

  “This better be important,” Marissa says, her eyes darting all over the place.

  “You probably shouldn’t have come,” I tell her.

  “So what’s going on?” Casey asks.

  The floodlight by the office switches off, and since I’m pretty sure we’re running out of time I fire through the whole story as quick as I can.

  When I’m done, Marissa’s eyes are totally bugged out. “So they’re murderers? And you’re planning to take them down with a hoe?”

  “Shh!” Casey whispers, then points down toward the road where Ted’s cutting across graves on the new side, a short shovel on his shoulder.

  Casey whips off the backpack he’s carrying and pulls out binoculars. And after he’s got his focus tight he mutters, “He looks like Smokey the Bear with that shovel.”

  “But where’s the body?” Holly asks.

  I nod. “It’s probably in the van.”

  Now, I’m holding his hoe, and the thought of Dusty Mike dead in the van is making me really upset. And I don’t want to sit there just watching. I want to do something.

  Pound someone.

  So when Marissa says, “Don’t you think we should call the cops?” I say, “Yeah, I think we should.”

  Trouble is, the only one of us who has a phone is Billy, and when we turn to him, he goes all crinkly-faced. “It’s in my charger!”

  I look around at all of them and take a deep breath. “I guess we’ll have to use the office phone.”

  Then I huddle them up and tell them what I’m thinking.

  Casey takes one last look at Ted through the binoculars. “He’s moving a plank over … he’s getting inside …”

  “A grave?” Marissa whispers. “How will he get out?”

  “Apparently he has experience,” Casey says, putting away the binoculars. “At least we know where he is, but we’d better hurry. I have a feeling this won’t take him very long.”

  I figured the van would be hidden between the buildings, and I had a pretty good hunch Courtney wouldn’t be in it. If her job was to keep an eye out for unexpected company, s
he’d be watching from the office, where she could see the road in both directions.

  Besides, the floodlight had been switched off, and that seemed like something that would be done from inside the office.

  Now, since Holly and I have a hoe, two skateboards, and a bat, I give my skateboard to Billy, who’s got nothing but jittery nerves. “If you hold it like this,” I tell him, grabbing it by the axles like a shield, “it’ll protect you.” Then I switch to holding it like a bat. “Like this, and it’ll do some serious damage.”

  “Against a gun?” he eeks.

  There’s not much I can say to that, so I just hand Marissa my softball bat. Marissa may be skittery, but she’s a slugger on the softball field, and if anything needs slamming with a bat, Marissa’s the one you want holding it.

  Which leaves Casey with his skateboard, Holly with hers, and me with Dusty Mike’s hoe.

  “Ready?”

  Billy answers by putting a hand out. “Zombies to the rescue?” he says in a shaky voice. And even though I’m sure it’s too late to actually rescue anyone, we all put our hands on his. “Zombies to the rescue.”

  Then we slip through the darkness between tombstones and trees until we get down to the breezeway. “There it is,” I whisper, pointing out the van, which is parked facing us.

  My heart’s slamming in my chest as we sneak across the breezeway. It’s dark, so we can’t see if anyone’s sitting in the van, and even though I think Killer Courtney is in the office, I don’t know that. But the horn doesn’t honk and the car doesn’t zoom off or anything as we approach, and when we’re near enough, we can see that there’s nobody in the driver’s seat.

  We can also see that the lock buttons are up.

  I take a deep breath, grab the slider handle, and pull.

  The interior lights come blazing on and inside is … nothing.

  No backseats.

  No body.

  Nothing.

  It’s just a big empty van.