Cemetery Club (15 page)

Her last thought was of her parents and how disappointed they’d be to find out she’d been having sex with boys on the football field.

Marisol held her coffee in both hands, trying to force the chill from her body. Outside the city offices the summer sun was already driving away the cool of the night, warming Rocky Point like a pie in an oven, an oven whose temperature would slowly rise throughout the long, hot day. Marisol’s chill had nothing to do with the previous night's cool breeze that had blown through her windows while she tried to sleep. No, her shivers were the after effect of the secrets the night had nurtured, secrets the breeze had carried along on its whispering sighs.

Death. Violence. Unnamed horrors.

She’d heard the sirens all night long, knew what their high-pitched wails warned of.

They’re back again.
The
things
that lived underground, the things she’d tried so hard to drive from her memory and for the most part, she’d succeeded. Her nightmares of the creatures she and her friends had encountered beneath Gates of Heaven Cemetery had dwindled over the years to only occasional bad dreams, usually brought on by indulging in too many chili dogs or jalapeno pizzas.

Until now. John Boyd had seen them again, right by their old crypt. Add to that the violence and disappearances plaguing the town for the past week and even a stubborn fool -
like me!
- could see what was going on.

What the fuck was John doing by that crypt anyhow? They’d had an unspoken agreement to never go near it again, never venture into the cemetery at all unless absolutely necessary. Had his drinking really gotten that out of control? She’d known about his DWI; it had been in all the papers when it happened. She’d even sent him a letter - a short note really - expressing her sorrow and asking him if there was anything she could do. Back then she’d still been married to Jack and had the power of the Mayor’s office behind her. But John had never responded and she’d figured he’d accepted his jail time as penance for what he'd done. During the months he’d been locked away she'd forgotten about him, the tragedies of an old friend pushed aside by the travails of daily life in a loveless house.

How many times did I pass him on the street, maybe even tossed him a handful of change at Christmas time, without recognizing him? Did he resent my good fortunes, the way I resented Cory for getting the hell out of this town?

She hoped he held no grudges; she hoped she hadn’t been rude to him. Odds were if she’d been alone she’d dropped some coins in his cup or hat or whatever. Jack had always gone on at her about her caring too much for those less fortunate than them, forgetting completely that before she’d married him
she’d
been one of the less fortunate he looked down on.

Of course, in public, Jack always made a show of demonstrating his own concern for the underprivileged, especially around the holidays. He carried green pieces of paper in his coat pocket that resembled folded dollar bills and he’d drop them into hats or donation pots as he smiled broadly, wishing everyone within earshot a ‘warm and safe holiday season.’

When unfolded, the paper was nothing more than a list of addresses for the town’s soup kitchens and shelters, along with a vaguely biblical quote about God only helping those who helped themselves.

She hoped John had never been the recipient of one of those pieces of paper.

“Penny for your thoughts
chiquita
.”

Marisol nearly spilled her coffee as the unexpected voice sent her heart into overdrive. She’d thought she was alone in the morgue, having come in two hours before first shift started. Turning, she found Freddy Alou standing by the door to the break room, his graying hair still damp from his morning shower, his eyes bright and alert.

The complete opposite of how I probably look
. “Morning Freddy,” she said, getting her heart under control. “What brings you in so early?”

“A sixty-year-old bladder that thinks it’s my personal alarm clock,” he said with a laugh. “Since I was up I decided to come in and get some paperwork done for the town meeting tonight.”

“Town meeting? I haven’t heard anything about that.” Marisol topped off her coffee to warm it and then poured a second cup, handing it to Freddy, who took a few sips and sighed before responding.

“Last minute thing. Dawes and your ex decided yesterday it would be a good idea to address the ‘concerns of the populace’ regarding the current disappearances and murders. But since those two
pendejos
don’t actually want any of the populace showing up and asking difficult questions, they’re doing their best not to publicize the meeting, other than what’s legally required.”

“Figures. But how does this all concern you?”

Alou shrugged. “The powers that be prefer that all records and documents relating to our ‘situation’ touch no hands in the records department other than my own two
manos
. Your boss and me, we’ve kind of been sucked into this bucket of
mierda
against our will.” He sighed, then narrowed his eyes. “But enough of my problems. What brings you here before the morning paper?”

Marisol smiled. “Nothing as bad as your reasons. I just couldn’t sleep.”

Freddy raised an eyebrow. “Out late with Mister Miles last night?”

“What? No I was not. How did you know Cory’s in town?”

Letting out another of his infectious laughs, Freddy pointed first to the corner of his eye and then to his ear. “I see everything and hear everything that goes on in town
chica
. That’s my job. Just like my father before me. I come from a long line of nosy men and women, going all the way back to the days when this place was nothing more than another stop on the Hudson River trading route.”

“I don’t doubt it. But this time you’re wrong. There’s nothing going on between Cory and I.”

“Not yet.” Freddy gave her an exaggerated wink and then exited the break room.

Marisol stared after him, her coffee churning slightly in her stomach. His words had hit a little too close to home. In fact, they’d echoed her own feelings pretty damn closely, like he’d read her mind. There was certainly an attraction between her and Cory and based on their kiss Sunday night, the feeling was mutual. She’d hoped to talk to him, maybe see him on Monday, but they’d ended up playing phone tag most of the day. And when she finally got home she’d begged off his dinner invite, preferring to eat a quick frozen dinner and go to bed early.

But they’d managed to make plans for an early dinner tonight, a quick bite before heading to Todd’s house for their next meeting. Anticipation at seeing him again had kept sleep at bay until late the previous evening. Combined with the sirens, it was no wonder she was exhausted.

Tonight
. The word reminded her of the town meeting Freddy had mentioned.
They don’t want the public there? Nice try. We’ll make damn sure the whole town shows up.

She flipped open her cell phone and dialed Todd’s number.

*  *  *

Todd Randolph hung up the phone and hurried across the hall to the guest bedroom, where the sound of snoring indicated John Boyd still slept on. Todd rapped on the door until he heard John’s groggy voice call out, “I’m awake.”

“Well, get your lazy butt out of bed my friend. We’ve got work to do.”

Smiling at the thought of putting a wrench in the town leaders’ plans, Todd went downstairs to start breakfast.

*  *  *

Todd and John were waiting in front of the City Building when Marisol and Cory walked up. They’d had to park two blocks away, a testament to the success of their hastily-planned effort to bring the meeting to the town’s attention.

“Jesus. Half the damn county must be here. I’ve never seen the place so crowded,” Cory said as they went inside and down into the basement of the old wing.

“I figure between the four of us we handed out over three hundred flyers,” Todd told them. “I imagine there’s gonna be a lot of people pissed off that the meeting wasn’t publicized.”

“I’m more curious to hear what kind of questions people will be asking.” Marisol pointed to one of the flyers they’d made, which lay on the hallway floor. The large letters read:

Town Meeting Tonight

Mayor Dawes and Sheriff Travers to discuss the

more than two dozen disappearances plaguing Rocky Point.

Beneath that bold statement was the time and place of the meeting, which Marisol had verified by calling the Mayor’s office anonymously.

“The newspapers haven’t been reporting the disappearances because the police haven’t been giving out information on them,” she continued, as they entered the room that doubled as a meeting hall and civil wedding chapel. Originally designed as a bomb shelter that could hold up to four hundred people, more than anything else the auditorium resembled a high school gymnasium, minus the bleachers and baskets.

“That’s sure to ruffle some feathers,” Todd said. “People might not care what happens in the Lowlands but they hate when politicians keep secrets, especially those having to do with town safety.”

John opened the door to the auditorium, which was packed to capacity and beyond with people already taking standing positions along the side and back walls. The din of several hundred mouths talking at once filled the air with a sound reminiscent of the anticipatory murmur preceding a concert.

The four Cemetery Club members took spots at the back of the room, where they had a view of the entire auditorium. At the other end, a young busty woman, was busy setting out pitchers of water and glasses on the small table where the Mayor and his aides would be sitting.

At exactly seven p.m. Mayor Dawes and Deputy Mayor Jack Smith entered from a side door, with the members of the town board, as well as Freddy Alou and the Medical Examiner close behind them. Tagging along in the rear was Police Chief Travers, a violence-threatening scowl on his face. Marisol wondered if he’d been arguing with the Mayor’s team backstage or if he just didn’t want to be forced into providing information to the public.

Maybe it’s both.

Smith was the first to speak, clearing his throat and tapping on the microphone to test it. “Um, good evening. Mayor Dawes and I want to thank you all for joining us tonight. We hadn’t expected such a large turnout, so please bear with us.”

Someone in the crowd called out in an angry voice. “That’s because you tried to keep the meeting a secret!”

A chorus of shouts and boos followed.

Ignoring the interruption, Smith continued. “This meeting of the Rocky Point Town Board will now come to order. First on the agenda—”

“Forget the damn agenda. Tell us what’s going on!”

“Yeah, how many people are missing? Are they dead?”

“It’s a cover up!”

Smith raised his hands. Behind him Mayor Dawes and several of the board members looked unhappy. “People, please. The Board has an agenda to follow. After each item is announced, you will have the opportunity to voice your opinions before a vote is taken. Now—”

“Can the bullshit! Tell us what you’re doing to keep the town safe!”

More shouting followed. Smith raised his hands again but that only succeeded in riling the crowd even further.

“This isn’t going well for them,” Cory whispered to Marisol. On stage, Smith returned to the table and leaned down to talk with the Mayor.

“No, it’s not, is it?” Marisol wore a happy grin on her face.

Mayor Dawes stood up and approached the microphone. “Please, ladies and gentlemen, can we have some quiet?”

The crowd responded with even louder cries of ‘We want answers now!’ and ‘Tell us the truth!’

“All right, everybody settle down!” Dawes shouted, his amplified voice setting off squeals of feedback that cut through the agitated din. This time the noise quickly diminished. When the room was almost silent, Dawes continued in a quieter tone. “In order to maintain peace the Board has agreed to make a special announcement regarding recent events here in town. After that we’ll allow twenty minutes for discussion.”

There was a pause as Jack Smith handed the Mayor a sheet of paper. After clearing his throat, Dawes began reading from the document he held.

“Here are the facts pertaining to the so-called disappearances that have occurred over the past week or so. First, there is no verifiable proof that any of these disappearances are linked to foul play. While it’s true that people have been reported missing, it’s entirely possible these individuals or families have simply moved, or taken a trip and forgotten to inform people of their whereabouts.”

Someone yelled “Bullshit!” and several people cheered.

“People! If we cannot continue in an orderly fashion, I’ll be forced to close this meeting to the public.”

“Let him try it,” John said. “He’ll have a riot on his hands.”

Todd shushed him. “I want to hear this.”

“Point number two,” Dawes announced, holding up two fingers. “The reported disappearances are in no way related to the unfortunate murders that took place at Gus’s Bar or Gates of Heaven Cemetery. While those crimes were indeed heinous and we are doing everything in our power to find the perpetrators, I want to remind you that Rocky Point’s rate of violent crime is far lower than the national average, a testament to the hard work of Sheriff Travers and his men. Now—”

An elderly man stood up in the middle of the room. “What about the aliens?”

A look of confusion crossed Dawes’s face. “The...what?”

“The goddamn aliens I saw the other night. Ask Travers. I made a statement at the police station. Saw the little bastards kill someone with my own eyes.”

Murmured voices, like the growl of distant traffic, filled the room as the people in the audience spoke to each other in hushed tones.

Travers rose from his seat and whispered something into the Mayor’s ear. For a moment, Dawes looked as if he’d just smelled something rotten, his face contorting and his lips pulling to one side. Then he resumed his composure. “Mister, ah, Coleman, is it? Sheriff Travers tells me he does indeed have your statement and that his men are investigating the disturbance in your neighborhood. However, to speculate that—”