Graves Read online

that the grave hadn’t been placed in my garden. I understood Aaron’s discomfort, but could think of little that might calm him down. “Alright, listen, I don't know why someone would put that thing in your garden. Maybe it's a joke, or maybe they've got a grudge. Why don't you just forget about it. If they've done it to piss you off then don't let them get to you. If they've done it to have a laugh then there's even less reason to be put out. Right?”

  Aaron started nodding.

  “Maybe … maybe just have another drink and call it a night. Tomorrow I'll come over and if that thing's still there then we'll shift it out together. What do you say?”

  Aaron reached over and patted me on the shoulder, some of his poise returning. He poured a pair of shots and then capped the bottle. “I can be a stupid old man sometimes. Thank you,” he said, and raised his glass.

  “All the others …” he began. Then he stopped for a moment, reconsidering his words. “Even after all this time, the others all see you as a turncoat. I’ll confess, I don't get why you did it, but you're still a good neighbour. I'm glad to have you around here.”

  I stared down at my glass, a little embarrassed. “Thanks, Aaron, it's good to hear someone say that,” I replied.

  I finished my drink. Despite the amity, something made me reluctant to stay there any longer than I had to. I rose and made my way to the door.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” I said, shaking Aaron’s hand.

  “Thanks,” he repeated.

  As I left his house I glanced nervously over to the gravestone. I had told Aaron that someone must have put it there deliberately. We lived in a small town on a small island. Like Aaron I knew almost everyone and, out of all of those people, I couldn't think of a single one who would have done such a thing.

  The following morning I made my way to Aaron's house as promised. I wasn't surprised to not see him working away in his garden. He had hit the whisky hard enough the night before to keep even a practised drinker in bed until after midday. I guessed he was sleeping off a painful case of regret. I couldn't be completely sure, but it seemed like the first morning in my memory that Aaron hadn't been around to greet me on my early walk. Perhaps I should have been more alarmed, but instead I took it as a refreshing change. Very little changed on our island—change, in fact, seemed to be actively resisted—so a break in the morning routine offered me a rare chance to see things with a slightly different perspective. I decided to let him sleep in.

  It was only as I was about to walk by that I noticed the grave had gone.

  That explained it, I figured. Inspired by a bellyful of alcohol Aaron had taken up a renewed attack on the gravestone. Clearly he had succeeded and had rewarded himself with the morning off. I wasn't about to argue with that. I went on my way and didn't give it another thought.

  It was a quiet day in the office so I found myself making my way back just a few hours later. This time there was a small crowd outside Aaron's house. I began to feel sick. The sensation worsened when I saw an ambulance parked in the drive.

  “What's going on?” I asked, not caring who the answer came from.

  A handful of people turned to look at me. Some looked away immediately. Some made sure to shoot me a few daggers first. Just a couple kept their eyes on me, their focus narrowing with suspicion.

  Gail Masters, our deputy chief constable, saw me and walked over. I hadn't been around when she was appointed, but I heard there was something of a storm about it. Chief Travis had gotten it into his head that the local police force needed a shake-up, and Gail was it. That was the official word, anyway. The other story going around was that he had a thing for Gail. Nothing had ever come of that. Neither had anything ever come of Gail's attempts to change a things around the island. She had long ago giving up trying and had settled for doing little else than following Travis' lead.

  However, just occasionally I could still see the fire behind her eyes, as if she was simply waiting for her chance. I wondered if this would be it.

  But she still had her job to do and her line of questioning didn't put me any more at ease about whatever was going on. “Afternoon Greg—uh, sorry, Mr. Michaels. So, look, can you tell when was the last time you saw Aaron?” she asked.

  “Can you tell me what's going on?” I asked.

  “Not a thing at this moment,” she said, stonewalling me. “But it would sure help if you could tell me when you last saw Aaron.”

  I looked at her warily. “Last night.”

  “Okay,” Gail nodded significantly. “Did you talk about anything?”

  I gave her another a sharp look, but she didn't back down. “He was upset. Someone had stuck a gravestone in his garden, a practical joke I guess. He was having some trouble removing it.”

  Gail scanned the garden quickly. “I don't see a gravestone.”

  “No. It was over by the window there,” I said, pointing. “I suppose he must have shifted it after I left. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

  At that moment Chief Travis emerged from Aaron's house. He looked pale.

  “Aaron's dead,” he announced bluntly. Apparently there was little point being discreet about it—word would have flown across the island within the hour anyway.

  “Are you sure?” Gail asked, her face immediately betraying her regret at giving voice to the question. Few people died unexpectedly on the island, I could understand her shock.

  “Yes. Quite sure.”

  Gail stepped over to Travis. As quiet as she tried to be I could still hear her ask Travis: “Don't you think we should call in the mainland on this one? If he's been murdered we—”

  “We do our job,” Travis said, cutting her off. “This is our business, we don't need to call in anyone else. Now, do any of this lot know anything or have you just been standing here picking dust off your uniform?”

  Perhaps feeling sorry for Gail, I chose that moment to step forward. “What happened?” I asked.

  Travis looked at me as if he was hoping not to have to answer that question. Or maybe he was just trying to figure out if I was responsible. Eventually he said: “Murder.”

  Then it was my turn to ask the stupid question: “Are you sure?”

  Travis sighed heavily. He looked up at the sky, then turned back to me. The look on his face told me everything. Whatever state Aaron was in, it wasn't anything he could have done to himself.

  “I believe Mr. Michaels here may have been the last person to have seen Aaron alive,” Gail blurted out helpfully.

  “Not the last person,” I replied quickly. “He was still alive when I left him.”

  Gail looked abashed. “I'm sorry, Greg, I didn't mean—what I meant to say is Mr. Michaels has some useful information. It turns out someone was likely playing a trick on Aaron. Maybe it went wrong.”

  Travis perked up at the prospect of a lead. “What sort of trick?”

  “Well,” I started to say: “There was this gravestone that someone had planted in his garden and—”

  “A what?” came a voice from the crowd.

  I looked around. A man walked over to us, the look of dread on his face growing more apparent the closer he came. I took me a moment to recognise him: Evan West, he owned a small dry cleaning business. I'd used his services once or twice in the past few years, but Evan had always taken care to make sure I knew he was doing me a favour by taking my money. These days I did all my cleaning at home. At that moment he looked too scared to even acknowledge it was me he was talking to.

  “Did you say a gravestone?” he asked.

  “Yes. It's not there now, but it was right—” I made to point out the spot but Evan interrupted me.

  “There was a g-gravestone right outside my door this morning. In the front garden,” he stammered. “I swear it wasn't there last night …”

  Travis nodded. “Relax, Evan. It sounds like a practical joke to me. I'm sure all this has nothing to do with gravestones.”

  Evan looked distraught. “But what if this—” he grabbed my arm. “You said
there was a gravestone in Aaron's garden. Now he's dead. What if I'm next? What about my f-family?”

  Gail stepped forward. “Listen, Evan, if it'll make you feel better why don’t you stay at my house tonight? There's plenty of room for you and the family. Just come over when you're ready.”

  “Do you mean that?” Evan said, looking at her in wonder.

  “Of course, just get whatever you need and come on over. Me and Dave, we'd love to have you over.”

  Evan almost went to hug Gail, but stopped short and shook her hand instead. “Thank you, I can't tell you … thank you.”

  And with that Evan hurried off. Travis shook his head, passing Gail a critical look. She shrugged. Then Travis came over to me, talking in hushed tones.

  “Listen, we need to clear this situation up quickly. It'd really help me out if you could come by the station in a while and tell me whatever you know.”

  I knew that Travis could have simply ordered me to the station, but he hadn't. He had a way of getting the best out of everyone just by making us all feel like we were mucking in. Even me.

  “No problem, Chief,” I replied. “I'll head on over right now.”

  The next morning it seemed there was a shift in the atmosphere on the island. Perhaps it's nothing more than the benefit of hindsight, but I was already counting it as the third day. Maybe it was just the realisation of waking up and knowing that the first person I saw each day would no longer be Aaron working away in his garden.

  Travis had given me every impression the