What Lies Beneath the Graves Read online

  Table of Contents

  What Lies | Beneath the Graves

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

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  Further Reading: Scraps of Paper

  What Lies

  Beneath the Graves

  (The fifth Spookie Town Murder Mystery)

  (Sequel to Scraps of Paper, All Things Slip Away,

  Ghosts Beneath Us, and Witches Among Us.)

  By Kathryn Meyer Griffith

  Why is the town called Spookie? In this murder mystery series it is a tongue-in-cheek, a tip-of-my-hat to my earlier roots as a horror writer and little else. This book is also for my sweet brother Jim Meyer, who passed away on May 27, 2015. He was a great singer/musician/songwriter and was always my best friend. I miss him. If you’d like to listen to some of his songs, here they are: http://tinyurl.com/pytftzc

  Other books by Kathryn Meyer Griffith:

  Evil Stalks the Night

  The Heart of the Rose

  Blood Forged

  Vampire Blood

  The Last Vampire (2012 Epics EBook Awards Finalist)

  Witches

  Witches II: Apocalypse

  Witches plus bonus Witches II: Apocalypse

  The Calling

  Scraps of Paper-1st Spookie Town Murder Mystery

  All Things Slip Away-2nd Spookie Town Murder Mystery

  Ghosts Beneath Us-3rd Spookie Town Murder Mystery

  Witches Among Us-4th Spookie Town Murder Mystery

  What Lies Beneath the Graves-5th Spookie Town Murder Mystery

  Egyptian Heart

  Winter’s Journey

  The Ice Bridge

  Don’t Look Back, Agnes

  A Time of Demons and Angels

  The Woman in Crimson

  Four Spooky Short Stories

  Human No Longer

  Dinosaur Lake (2014 Epic EBook Awards Finalist)

  Dinosaur Lake II: Dinosaurs Arising

  Dinosaur Lake III: Infestation

  Dinosaur Lake IV: Dinosaur Wars

  Dinosaur Lake V: Survivors

  Memories of My Childhood

  Christmas Magic 1959 short story

  *All Kathryn Meyer Griffith’s books can also be

  found in eBooks, paperbacks, and audio books.

  Chapter 1

  “HEY, SLOW DOWN MYRTLE!” Abigail shouted as the old woman scurried around another prickly shrub, abruptly changed direction, moved through the spaces between the trees and splashed through a trickling creek. The ground was soggy and muddy from the last rain and Abigail had to be careful where she stomped her feet. It wouldn’t do to sink her new shoes into the muck or to fall on her butt in a puddle of mud. She hadn’t planned on this wild hike through the wilderness and hadn’t dressed appropriately. That Myrtle. The old woman had known where they were going, what the terrain would be, and she’d worn rubber boots. Not so Abigail. Abigail was dressed for town and had her good clothes on. “Where are you going, Myrtle?”

  “I think I know where my grandniece is. She goes to a special place a lot to think or when one of her intuitions, dreams or trances, or whatever she calls them, have upset her. Just follow me. I know the way and it isn’t far.” Myrtle dodged a low hanging branch and it almost slapped Abigail in the face. Luckily she ducked just in time, barely. A tiny branch fluttered across and scratched her face and when she reached up her fingers came back with a streak of blood.

  “Myrtle, slow down!”

  “You know,” Myrtle suddenly declared as if the thought had only come to her, “I’m really thinking about going on a world cruise this summer. Leave in July and get back whenever. Maybe I’ll be gone for months. Sort of like a birthday present from myself to myself.”

  For Pete’s sake, Abigail thought, but didn’t say out loud. The old woman had to be closing in or even past ninety years old. Did ninety year olds really traipse around the globe like vagabond teenagers? Didn’t they have to stay close to their doctors and stuff? “You’re kidding, aren’t you? Remember what happened the last time you went on a cruise...a friend of yours ended up dead.”

  “Yeah, I remember. But that was a real fluke. It wasn’t the cruise that did poor old Tina in, but a land grabbing couple of murderers. I don’t expect that to happen again, not in my lifetime. As far as I know no one’s out to murder me or any of my friends–right now anyway,” she mumbled the last three words though Abigail heard them.

  Abigail figured she’d play along. Myrtle did like to daydream about the great adventures she was going to go on. It didn’t mean she would actually do them; though she did like to travel and traveled more than any old person Abigail had ever known. “Where are you thinking of going on this cruise?”

  “Oh, I’m not sure. I’m still doing research. One of those senior cruises so I don’t feel so out of place. Someplace warm, I think. Tropical islands with beautiful blue seas around and friendly natives. Lots of fruity drinks with those tiny umbrellas in them. Oh, and the cruise ship will have to have tons of good food and goodies on it, too. That’s a given.” The old lady grinned over her shoulder at her. “You know me, I like the water and the sun. The dessert buffet.”

  “That you do. Let me know when you decide on your itinerary and exactly where you’re going. So I can put up a map on my wall and stick it full of pins to follow your bread crumbs.”

  “Ha, ha. I will. Maybe I could even talk you into going with me, huh? Glinda, too. A women’s cruise vacation. I’ll pay for it.”

  Myrtle was serious so Abigail didn’t mock her. “I don’t think Frank would think me going on a cruise for a couple of months or more was a good idea. Though Laura’s away at college, we still have Nick at home. And Frank would miss me. I’d miss him.”

  “Ah, Frank can come with us. Nick, too. I’ll pay for all of you. Nick will be out of school by June and we could go then and be back in time for him to catch the fall semester. I know it’ll be a hunk of money, but hey, I can’t take it with me so I’m going to spend it. Let me spend it on you guys.”

  No way. Abigail didn’t like big boats on big oceans. They could sink and then they’d drown or sharks would eat all of them. No, no, no. But flabbergasted at the sheer generosity of the offer, Abigail could only say, “Uh, let me think about it.”

  “You do that.”

  Abigail kept muttering beneath her breath but continued trailing Myrtle through the wet woods. At least the rain had stopped, the fog had lifted and the sun had come out to warm the world around them. Early spring could be so fickle in Spookie, and this morning it was chilly, so Abigail was glad she’d worn a jacket. Myrtle, on the other hand, was wearing her usual colorful collection of layered dresses and a furry coat which would have been more suitable for the deep freeze of the Arctic. It was like following a hobbling and strange looking bear. The comical image made Abigail smile.

  They’d been on their way to visit Glinda, their local psychic and Myrtle’s grandniece, at Glinda’s house, but no one had been home when they rang the bell. Of course Myrtle had known where the spare key was kept, beneath the ceramic frog in the rock garden surrounding the porch, the same place her late sister Evelyn had always kept it, and she had merely let t
hem in. Before Abigail could protest intruding on Glinda’s privacy, Myrtle had blurted out, “Oh, I do this all the time. Glinda doesn’t mind. Besides, most days she already knows I’m coming and isn’t surprised. My home is your home, Aunt Myrtle, she always tells me. Seeing as it did once belong to your sister. Visit anytime you want. So I do.”

  But Glinda hadn’t been in the house, there was only the menagerie of animals, mostly cats, she’d been collecting. Evelyn’s ghost must be very happy. The felines darted away to hide like frightened children or meowed at them from dark corners.

  “That girl,” Myrtle complained, finding and picking up a blue cell phone from the kitchen table. “It’d be easier to track her down if she’d just remember to take her cell phone along with her. She’s always leaving it somewhere. Once I found it in the freezer. No joke.” The old woman took the phone and dumped it into her jacket’s pocket. “When we find her I’ll give it to her.”

  “Then we’re going to keep looking for her?”

  “Of course,” Myrtle replied, “I’ve had this feeling all morning I had to speak to her. It’s important.”

  “Oh, okay. Lead on.”

  Then Glinda’s main cat, the gray one called Amadeus, was at the house’s entrance in front of them. It gave them one of its weird looks and dashed out the open door. “We’ll follow that critter. I’m sure he’ll lead us right to Glinda.”

  “I thought you said you knew where your niece was?”

  “Well, I have a good idea, but I’m sure the cat will find her first and take us right to her. It has that power. Let’s go.”

  They went out the door, closing it behind them, and looked for the cat. It was nowhere to be seen.

  “Darn. He did that disappearing act on purpose to taunt me. That cat hates me,” Myrtle had grumbled as they’d walked behind the house. “Though I am so nice to him, bring him treats and all. He’s a peculiar cat.”

  “You still believe he’s a magic cat?” Abigail had queried, hiding her amusement. She glanced over her shoulder at Evelyn’s old house as they left it behind. It looked good, Myrtle had confided to her a while back, better than it had in decades. Glinda had had it painted a cheery yellow and had new shutters, a pretty light jade color, put around the windows. Wooden boxes full of bright flowers sat beneath the windows. She’d cleared out and cleaned up the piles of clutter in the yard which had been scattered around and had planted wild flowers everywhere. There was an antique glider swing for three, topped off with soft cushions, under the oak tree.

  The yard’s grass was always kept cut and the bushes shaped and trimmed. It was a lovely homestead now and its unique beauty rivaled the best houses in Spookie. Abigail had helped Glinda decorate the inside and, even she had to admit, it was now a beautiful home. Glinda loved it as much as Evelyn once had and it showed. Abigail was fairly sure Myrtle had contributed monetary funds to accomplish the makeover because, according to Myrtle, she spent as much time at Glinda’s place as she did her at her own, and she had wanted to help her young niece because, she’d asserted, being a psychic wasn’t all that profitable. Then again she and Glinda had formed a tight bond which was touching to behold. The old recluse was becoming more social with every year and that was what was most amazing to Abigail. Myrtle having a young relative to care for had changed the old woman. Abigail reckoned the next step was Myrtle eventually moving in with the girl, which wouldn’t be a bad thing. Myrtle’s eyesight and hearing were both failing, though Myrtle would never admit it. Ninety-something could be a brutal age for anyone. There were times, though, like now, Abigail couldn’t believe how spry her old friend still was. For the time being anyway.

  A swallow flew above them not inches above their heads, dipping and sailing like a tiny ship on the air. Abigail shaded her eyes with her hand and watched the bird speed away into the azure sky. Three others joined it and called to each other like old friends.

  Glinda had been living in Evelyn’s house for over two years and the psychic had settled easily into it and the rhythm of the town and its quirky people, fitting right in. She had many friends and could often be found at Claudia’s Tattered Corners book store or Stella’s Café conversing or visiting with any number of the townspeople over breakfast or lunch. Sometimes she gave readings at both places. Stella and Claudia welcomed them. It brought in more business. People were curious about Glinda, her visons, her crystals and tarot cards, and loved to crowd around to watch and listen when she was reading someone’s fortune. Glinda had become somewhat famous in the area because so many of her predictions came true. These days she didn’t have problems getting bookings, yet she refused to raise her prices. Often she would give free readings if the person needed it but couldn’t afford it. “I know what it’s like to live paycheck to paycheck. I never forget that. Some people need my help and I will not turn them away because of money. I don’t share my gift merely for the money. I share it to help people.”

  The strange gray cat suddenly reappeared ahead of them, tail and whiskers twitching as it paused, stared back at them as if to say follow me and scampered off into the woods.

  “Crazy cat.” Myrtle chortled. “Okay, okay, slow down, you contrary fur critter, we’re coming.”

  Abigail laughed then as the woods closed in around them. They’d been following the cat ever since, though it kept slinking in and out of their sight and they’d had to keep their eyes sharply peeled to not lose it.

  “Uh, where precisely are we going?” Abigail repeated.

  “We’re here.” Myrtle had arrived at an overgrown and apparently long forgotten graveyard. There were many such forgotten family cemeteries around Spookie. They were burial places hidden and lost in the town’s forests, dotted with crumbling tombstones with faded inscriptions and paths dense with weeds. Withered trees protectively hung their branches over the spot and a knee-high dilapidated fence encircled it. A small patch of sacred ground, there weren’t more than three dozen graves residing there. Abigail had never been to this particular cemetery, though, but sensed immediately the eerie ambience pervading it. She could almost feel the departed lurking behind the tombstones or floating below the ground’s dirt. Gentle shivers shimmied along her skin. Good thing the sun was shining and bright. The boneyard would have been too creepy if the day would have been overcast.

  Evidently the cemetery wasn’t their destination. They skirted around the graveyard and when Abigail looked up a large concrete gazebo loomed before her. She’d never seen one like it. It was quite large and squatted on a hill overlooking the graveyard on one side and a steep drop to the creek on the other. As the cemetery it appeared to have been there a long time, was surrounded in overgrown shrubberies and weeds, but it was a solid edifice, octagonal, and perhaps twenty feet across and fifteen feet or so in height. There were five stone steps leading up and into it. Hard wooden benches encircled the gazebo’s inner circumference.

  Strange, she thought, to have such an uncommon structure in the middle of the woods and next to an abandoned graveyard. Who would put a gazebo way out here? Well, someone did. Probably the original owner of the property.

  Then she noticed who was sitting on the benches inside the gazebo. Glinda and Frank.

  “Hey!” Myrtle chuckled, rubbing her hands together gleefully. “Hot dog, the gang’s all here.”

  “Hi Glinda,” Abigail greeted the young woman, climbed the steps and gave her husband, Frank, a hello hug. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve had an interesting vision...a visit, actually, from someone who needs my–our–help.”

  “Oh,” Myrtle exclaimed. “Yippee, is it another adventure, another grand mystery, for us to solve?”

  “We’ll find out.” Glinda’s hands gestured them to sit with her. “That’s why you are all here. I have questions to ask and things to learn. The person who contacted me has a favor to ask. And I’m going to need your help to grant that favor.”

  Oh boy. Abigail caught the eager grin on Myrtle’s face. Not again. It’d been two lovely peace
ful years without any complications, dangers or murders in Spookie and she didn’t want it to change. She liked their simple life without criminals or murders to muck it up. Then she noticed Glinda’s odd expression, the concern in her eyes, and knew there was already no turning back. The die had been cast. Here we go again.

  “What’s the favor?” Myrtle pressed.

  “I’ll tell you soon enough,” Glinda clarified. “Once everyone takes a seat.”

  “Ha, if I would have known we’d all be here,” Myrtle piped up, “I would have brought a picnic lunch. Ooh, fried chicken and potato salad does sound tasty about now.”

  After throwing Myrtle an amused grin, Abigail glanced at her husband. “Frank, what are you doing here? I thought you were working today with the police department?”

  “I was. Then Glinda called me and asked me to come over. Said she had something to tell me and a request. I needed to get out of the stuffy office, not anything important going on today anyway, the office was dead, so I agreed. It was a nice day, she wanted to take a walk and show me something and here we are.” He smiled and spread his hands to include their surroundings. “She said you two would turn up sooner or later. And here you are.”

  The year before her husband had accepted a consultant’s job with the sheriff’s department as a part-time detective. It had surprised Abigail because he’d been retired from the Chicago Homicide Department for as long as she’d known him and seemed happy with his new mystery writing career and their simple life at home with the kids. He had become quite the local celebrity with his best-selling mystery novels. At the time he’d taken the consulting job, though, he’d confessed he had become restless just writing about crimes and no longer actively being able to solve them in the real world. The mysteries they’d cracked with Myrtle the last couple years had reawakened his sleuthing instincts. So he had taken the offered job with Sheriff Mearl and seemed content with it. It got him out of the house more, he said, and kept his brain sharp for writing his mysteries.

  “Yeah, about where we are,” Abigail sat down beside her husband, her eyes taking in what was around them, “what is this place? And why is there this lovely gazebo way out here in the middle of nowhere...and so close to a run-down weed-filled cemetery?”