I was in a strange office.

It was the Forest Lawn's groundskeeper's office, and it was a little creepy. There were exactly three open coffins lined up along the far wall. Mercifully, the coffins were empty. There was a pile of marble grave markers on one side of his desk, and a pile of bronze markers on the other side his desk. The bronze markers were empty. Meaning, they were awaiting names to be engraved. Names of those who were not yet dead. Someone, somewhere was going to die, and his name was going to appear on that bronze plaque.

Creepy.

The caretaker was a middle-aged man with thick glasses. Surprisingly, there wasn't dirt under his fingernails and there weren't clumps of it tracked in from the outside, either.

"Are all cemetery caretakers as clean as you?" I asked.

He asked me to repeat what I had said since I tend to talk beneath the normal hearing range. I spoke up a little louder, always a little nervous at this point in a conversation. It's hell being shy.

He grinned and sat back, which immediately put me at ease. "Ah, yes, the stereotypical myth of cemetery caretakers perceptually covered in clumpy graveyard soil. Actually, very few of us stick our fingers in the stuff. We have equipment for that."

"Could you describe the day that Evelyn Drake was exhumed?"

"You get right to it, don't you?" he said.

"There are graves to dig."

"You got that right," he said. "Anyway, it was a weird day."

"I bet. Were you there when the casket was opened?"

"I was nearby."

"What happened when the casket was opened?"

"Shit hit the fan."

"Because it was empty."

"Yup."

"Where's the casket now?"

"In the back."

"The police didn't confiscate it?"

"Nope. But it's roped off. We were told not to let anyone near it."

I showed him Detective Hammer's card. He took it from me and called the number. A few exchanges later and the caretaker was hanging up again. "He says you're reliable enough."

"He's always thought highly of me."

"But he said not to touch anything."

I felt my gorge rise at the thought of touching the casket. I'm a private eye, after all, not a medical examiner. "Wouldn't dream of it."

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