The Angel of Darkness - Caleb Carr [197]
The smell of dirt and decay hit me from about ten yards away, though thankfully, by the time I got to the grave site, they’d refastened the lid of the little coffin. Then it was up to me and Mr. Moore, using the lengths of rope, to maneuver the thing back into the hole he’d dug, which we managed to do without too much trouble. This task kept me busy enough to avoid really taking in where I was—along with what I was doing—but once the coffin was down and we’d started to first refill the grave with dirt and then re-cover it with large sections of sod what Mr. Moore’d carefully cut away, I had a chance to glance around at all the headstones and monuments what were surrounding me.
With a start I suddenly realized that I was actually standing on little Thomas Hatch’s grave. Moving quickly to do my job from another angle, I glanced at Thomas’s and Matthew’s headstones. The pair of them were identical, except for the words what were carved into each. In the upper portions they displayed the boys’ names and years of life, and under each name was the phrase “Loving Son of Daniel and Elspeth.” But under these words were two different quotes. Thomas’s read, “A lamb gone too soon to the Lamb,” while Matthew’s said, “He that believeth in Me shall not Die.” At the bottom of each stone, in lettering what was less stodgy and more flowing than the rest, was a message: “Love always, from Mama.”
Maybe I was just looking for something to fix my mind on as a way of calming down, but it occurred to me to ask, “How come they’re buried here, and not at the Hatch place? There’s a cemetery out there, behind the house.”
“Many cities and towns now require burial in a designated public cemetery,” the Doctor answered, holding the small object he’d found up above his head and studying it. “For reasons of public health. I’m sure Mrs. Hatch didn’t object—she must have realized that the chances of anyone attempting just what we’re doing now were far more remote in a public graveyard.”
“Yes, and she had good reason to think so,” Mr. Moore said, getting the last of the sod into place and trying to cover the remaining visible cuts in the ground by pulling up clumps of loose grass and sprinkling them over the cuts. “It’s a lot easier to get caught in a place like this.” He stood up, examined his work, and then nodded once in satisfaction. “Okay. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
The Doctor moved quickly for the gate, but I lagged behind with Mr. Moore, who was struggling to get his jacket back on as he dragged the shovel and bits of rope. Taking these last items from him, I asked, “So you found it? The bullet, I mean.”
“Looks like it,” he answered, not wanting to get too hopeful before he was sure he had reason. “In very good condition, too. But as for whether or not it’s the bullet—only tomorrow will tell. I hear you had a little run-in with our Filipino friend.”
I shook my head and let out a sigh of relief. “I thought I was dead for sure.”
“I doubt he meant anything like that,” Mr. Moore answered. “You’ve seen him work—if he wanted to kill you, it’s a safe bet you never would’ve heard or seen a thing.”
“Hunh.” I paused at the gate, realizing that Mr. Moore was right. “But then,” I said, as Cyrus came running down to join us, “what did he want?”
“That we do not know,” the Doctor answered, having figured out who and what I was talking about. “Though we must try to find out. However, what’s most vital right now, Stevie, is that you not mention the encounter to either the detective sergeants or Mr. Picton. As far as they’re concerned—as far as we’re all concerned”—he glanced once more into the cemetery, and then we all started to walk away—“none of this ever happened.”
“You won’t get any argument out of me,” Mr. Moore answered, taking a cigarette the Doctor offered him. “I’m not too proud of this little escapade.