Monday, 19 January 2015

How many times am I going to dig you out of this grave?

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“How many times am I going to dig you out of this grave?” he asked.
“It’s not the same grave,” she argued as she brushed soil from her shoulders.
“It is. Or close enough to it. Maybe they all look the same from your side.” He reached down a hand for her to grab.
“Who’s idea was this scam, anyway?” She paused. “Oh... yeah.”
“It’s a good scam. You are already dead so it’s not as if you have to die again.”
He brushed some soil from her cheek.
“Thanks. I think.” She was dead; undead. She had been for a very long time. “He didn’t have to stab me. That hurt.”
“Strangling is so much cleaner, too.”
She had ‘died’ a half dozen times so far. ”Let’s go scare my latest murderer to death.”
“I love this part,” he said. “And then you show up and claim his estate.”
She grabbed his arm. “Wait up... the same grave! Are you sure?”
“Yes.” He looked affronted that she would doubt him.
“How could he know?”
“Oh.” And then as he understood, “Ooh. The only way he would know is if he helped Barnaby bury a body here before.” He had been one of her previous husbands.
“Exactly. If this was the same grave Barnaby chose.”
He gave her a look. “He’s the only one who wasn’t there when you went back.”
“Yeah. I reckon we need to find him.”
He nodded. “I reckon he and Jones knew each other.” He touched her face again. “Did he suggest Ben to you somehow?” The guy who had just murdered her.
“I don’t remember how I got Ben’s name.”
“We can ask him,” he suggested.
“And then kill him.”
“Sounds like a plan.”