Grave Concern Read Online Free Page A

customer, Adele Niedmeyer
    Kate put fist to forehead and groaned. Dropped head to desk.
    A blast of cold air from her office door brought it up again.
    â€œWell, if it isn’t Hank Dixon!” she said, working up a grin. “What can I do for you? Have a seat!”
    Hank Dixon took his time, having apparently to check out each corner of the room before making the momentous decision to sit down. Kate sighed. All she wanted was a hot bath and her bed.
    â€œHow’s she goin’?” said Hank, in his slow, thoughtful drawl.
    Kate shrugged in a way that said, As well as can be expected .
    â€œHeard about that business up on Wycliffe Road, I expect?”
    Under the desk, Kate’s knee bounced at a furious rate. “Madge Fitzgerald’s dog? Too bad, that.”
    â€œMadge is pretty broken up about it.”
    â€œI can imagine.” Kate’s mind was racing — was Hank hinting dog-grave visitations? And what would one put on a canine crypt — rawhide chews? “What was the mayor doing out there, anyway?”
    â€œThat’s the sixty-four-million-dollar question, ain’t it, right there,” said Hank. “Only one other house up there, beyond Madge, like.”
    Okay, okay, she’d ask. “And who’s that, Hank?”
    â€œLittle Bo Peep!” Hank snorted. “That’s what I call her. Bogna … Bojana something. Polish name, like. Family’s been out there for years; she stayed and kept the place. Anyway, there’s been some talk, eh, about her and You Know Who.”
    Kate knew Who but did not particularly want to hear the What.
    â€œSo, Hank, you made an appointment. What was it you wanted here?”
    â€œGonna sound weird.”
    â€œI’ve heard weird.”
    Hank looked around again, the four corners, the door. “Fact is I’ve been having my own dog troubles.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œYou know that white house with the brown trim, out the Cemetery Road?”
    â€œSure. Pass it regularly.”
    â€œWell, I don’t know about you, but I never go by in my truck that mutt don’t come out of there like ten bats out of hell, givin’ chase, like, snappin’ at my wheels. Wouldn’t be so bad ’cept when I get out to pay respects to the folks, the bloody hound won’t leave me alone — snarlin’ and yappin’ right up to the grave. Nearly took off my hand the other day.”
    Kate smiled. “I’d say you don’t need me, Hank. You need the mayor.”
    â€œSeriously,” continued Hank without so much as a grin, “it’s right unsettling, ain’t it. So I’m thinkin’ maybe I’d get you to do that visitin’ ” — Hank waved his hands, indicating Kate’s business. “So, I’m just trying to get an idea, like, of the cost …”
    Kate explained the various services and charges, while Hank nodded sagely but with little comprehension in his eyes. She suspected he was still dazed by the very fact of having landed here in her office at all. Why not save him the embarrassment? Kate handed him her brochure.
    â€œTake it home, Hank, think it over, and get back to me. All the details you need are right in there.”

    What with Christmas bearing down, the next few weeks saw Kate nearly run off her feet. Overall this was a good thing, because between cemetery trips and related business, daily deliveries for Flower Power, and the odd Christmas party, Kate pretty much forgot about the … Thing . In recent graveyard trips, it hadn’t reappeared, thank God. And sleep, which had been about as reliable as a two-timing boyfriend, finally moved back in for keeps.
    So, this season of work and congeniality and drunken slumber would seem an unlikely time for Kate to be dreaming up new ventures. It began at a Christmas party, where Kate knew enough people to be generally comfortable, while not knowing any single person, in adult