Death Discovers a Bone: The Penelope Standing Mysteries, #6

ONE

According to Benjamin Franklin, nothing was certain aside from death and taxes. Penelope added a third item to the list as she trotted up the steep slope of the historic cemetery: fences falling over in anything stronger than a light breeze. At least, that held true for the fences built by Red and Sons, which included nearly all the backyards in town.

Still, the hunt for a missing dog was a good excuse to spend time walking through the old cemetery. In the newer cemetery outside the city limits, where most current burials were done, the ground was covered with a perfect carpet of grass, easy to maintain and mow since the pre-approved markers with their identical fonts and curated messages were flush with the ground. Penelope preferred the more comfortable mess of the old cemetery, with its irregular stone markers tipping drunkenly as time and tree roots pushed them aside.

Maybe in another ten or twenty years, Penelope would appreciate the flat smooth paths of the new cemetery, but though she'd more or less accepted she was middle-aged — fifties were middle-aged in her mind — she was still active enough to enjoy the beauty of a more natural state.

Ahead, a flash of tan fur confirmed that Esther's tip had been valid. Sightings of Zoomy had come in from multiple people that morning. Either the mischievous dog had run around half the town or there was a second yellow lab roaming the area. Penelope pretended to look at the inscription on the headstone in front of her, shook the bag of dog treats, and waited until she saw Zoomy peek out from behind a mausoleum. Gotcha! she whispered. The trick now was to convince Zoomy to come over for attention instead of running away again.

The glint of a metal shovel reflecting the sun caught Penelope's attention. Close to the rosebushes surrounding the cemetery perimeter, a man in a gray suit talked to a man in mud-stained clothing and heavy boots as they both walked away from a huge mound of dirt. A beautiful rosebush was in full bloom on the other side of an open grave. Both of the men looked vaguely familiar; place association allowed Penelope to recognize them as Derek Smith, the head of the town's cemetery committee, and Matteo Faulkner, the caretaker, who always seemed to have a layer of mud on the back of his shirt. Both men had very strong opinions about dogs — especially dogs not on a leash — in the cemetery.

Not wanting to listen to yet another lecture on the subject, Penelope eased behind a cement statue. Given the wings, she assumed it was meant to be an angel, but when set against the classically beautiful statue of Rafael three rows over, this unfortunate lump of cement was like a pug compared to a wolf. The eyes even bulged in the same way.

From the safety of the inbred seraphim, Penelope scanned the cemetery for something to excuse her presence so Derek wouldn't automatically blame her for the loose dog. Esther had to be around here somewhere, since she was acting as a representative of the Rose Garden Society to make sure some special rosebush wasn't damaged by the digging. Penelope could claim she was there to visit.

There! On the gravel path next to the fresh dirt pile, partially hidden by the huge rosebush with pink and yellow flowers, her friend Esther sat in her wheelchair. Penelope crinkled the treat bag and pointedly ignored the dog as she angled her steps toward Esther.

Esther's gray curls were windblown, and there were ruts in the gravel where her wheelchair's tires had lost traction, but she looked as unbothered as always. After a long career teaching kindergarten, not much rattled Esther. She looked up from her phone when Penelope hiked across the grass. How goes the hunt?

You were right. That's Zoomy. Penelope had been looking for the dog between other pet sitting appointments for the last three days. Did they find enough of Elmer to put into the box? Or are they just going to throw in some dirt and call it a day?

Esther shook her head. No. It's not Elmer. Matteo found a metal plaque for Josephine Harper. She pointed halfway down the hill. Josephine is supposed to be there.

Ah.

Unlike Zoomy, Elmer was human, or had been before his demise thirty years before. After seven decades of carefully avoiding all danger, Elmer had thrown caution to the winds and booked a skydiving trip for his birthday. While walking across the tarmac, he'd sneezed, inhaled his dental bridge, and choked before anyone had noticed he hadn't climbed into the plane. After such a noteworthy death, his burial had been unremarkable — apparently in more ways than one.

Penelope leaned over to look into the hole. The local soil had more clay than dirt, which could make digging like trying to cut through cement, but Matteo had prepared by soaking the ground overnight. The sides of the hole were professionally squared off, done by hand since the hill was too steep and uneven to use mechanical equipment. At the bottom, the mud had been wiped from a metal plaque attached to a remarkably flat surface, though Penelope couldn't read the writing. She'd assumed anything left buried more than a few years would be in even worse shape than the Red & Sons fence responsible for Zoomy's current freedom. How long ago was Josephine buried? That coffin's in amazingly good shape.

Forty years, give or take, Esther said. The casket is stainless steel. She spent half her savings on it when she got sick. Her brother tried to bully her out of it, so she changed her will and left the rest to a cat sanctuary.

That brought a smile to Penelope's face, because that sort of spiteful response was exactly what she would have done. Josephine might have been a good friend if they'd known each other. So if Josephine is here… She stopped staring down at the stainless steel casket, and looked up the hill. Matteo and Derek had unrolled a thick stack of A-sized paper against the Stanhope mausoleum and were pointing at headstones and then flipping through the stack. It looked like they'd brought along every version of the cemetery map produced since the town had been founded.

Esther shook her head. "It might not mean anything. For a couple decades, Massimo Faulkner — Matteo's great-uncle — and Thea Harding — she was in charge of the cemetery committee at the time — refused to speak to each other. Sometimes Massimo dug graves in a more convenient place, and when the headstones came in, Thea had them installed where the plot should have been."

Perhaps Penelope should have been horrified at this mismanagement, but she'd grown used to that sort of thing after a few decades in the area. What were they fighting about?

Esther evinced no surprise at Penelope's conversational detour. Massimo won the jams and jellies category at the county fair with his jalapeño peach jam and Thea accused him of cheating.

That would do it. Penelope turned to look at the field of headstones, trying to calculate how many people would have been buried in twenty years. That wasn't a mistake that could be easily fixed, if it could be fixed at all. It meant the cemetery map was useless. I'm surprised I haven't heard about it before. The people-buried-in-the-wrong-place thing, not the jams and jellies thing. She paused. How do you even cheat while making jam?

Massimo's neighbor entered a blackberry ginger jam that was nearly identical to Thea's, which made the jalapeño peach stand out. Thea claimed Massimo had spied on her to find out what she was making, and then made the batch for the neighbor to submit.

Penelope didn't react to Zoomy peeking out from behind a gravestone two rows away. For fair drama, that's pretty mild. It was not uncommon for brawls to break out after the vegetable judging. Amateur farmers were a passionate lot. Is that even against the rules?

No. And that wasn't even the biggest drama that year. The pie table collapsed when only half the pies had been evaluated, and the judges handed out awards anyway. There was nearly a riot. Esther smiled fondly over the memory before gesturing at the hole in the ground. The cemetery committee knows, of course, but too many people would be hurt if they found out they've been putting flowers on a grave in the wrong spot. And it's not clear exactly how many plots are affected. She picked up the thermos nestled beside her and unscrewed the lid. It really wouldn't be a problem at all if Elmer's grandson was spending his money on something more useful than a family mausoleum.

True. Penelope shook the treat bag, but didn't look around.

Elmer's grandson lived three counties away and had decided that his political aims would be furthered by tangible evidence of his family's ties to the community. To achieve this, he'd erected a mausoleum in a cemetery in his district and was now working to populate it with members of his family tree. In most cases, this meant he was paying someone to dig up a grave and ship him a box of dirt; in non-stainless-steel caskets, there was usually nothing left after a decade or two.

Penelope wondered if other cemeteries had similar record-keeping deficits. If so, Elmer's grandson might as well have saved his money and picked up potting soil from the garden center. She reminded herself not to suggest this if she ever met him.

Don't look now, Esther murmured, but the dog is right behind you.

Perfect. The key was not to rush things. Zoomy would be able to dart away faster than she could grab him, so she had to make him want to be near her. Taking one freeze-dried liver fragment from the bag, she held it at her side. A wet nose bumped against her fingers as Zoomy snagged the treat and ducked away again.

Penelope took out another treat and this time kept her hand slightly forward. Eventually, she would get Zoomy to move in front of her and he'd be stuck between her and the open grave long enough for her to get a leash on him. So if Elmer might be anywhere, what are Derek and Matteo looking at?

Zoomy snuck forward to grab another treat. Penelope reloaded.

Esther poured steaming tea into her cup. I think that's a performative action so they can claim to have tried everything. She took a sip. It might be wise to get a leash on the dog before Derek notices. He has opinions about dogs in the cemetery.

Don't remind me. Penelope kept the treat in front of her thigh. One more treat and Zoomy should have let down his guard enough for her to grab him.

But Penelope's calculations hadn't considered Zoomy's love of treats. When he tried to eat from her hand, he knocked the freeze-dried liver away. It flew forward in a perfect arc — straight into the open grave.

Wait, no! Penelope clutched at the retriever, but he was too quick. The dog followed the treat into the hole, landing on the casket with a thud.

Penelope looked around innocently as Derek and Matteo glanced over at the noise.

Esther took another sip. I suppose that's one way to catch him.

I've always wondered what it would be like down there. As soon as the men looked back at their maps, she crouched and dropped into the hole next to the dog.

Standing on the casket put Penelope's shoulders at ground level, which gave her an interesting perspective. The grass was right in front of her eyes, and she could see the scar where the Rose Garden Society's rosebush had been grafted to hardier root stock. She could have spent ten minutes looking around from this vantage, but now was not the time to give in to curiosity. Zoomy wagged his tail as she slipped a leash over his head. There. Consider yourself caught, naughty boy. Then she gave him two more treats.

That accomplished, Zoomy and Penelope looked up and then at each other. At least the dog had the decency to look abashed about their predicament. Penelope rubbed his neck as he leaned against her. Esther, if I lift him out, can you hang onto the leash while I get out?

As long as he doesn't pull too hard.

Esther had managed entire classes of five-year-olds; she would have no trouble with one repentant Labrador retriever. Looping the leash over her wrist, Penelope adjusted her stance so the dog could use her thigh as a step. Okay, Zoomy, up you go!

It took two tries, with some scrabbling against the dirt of the wall and Penelope boosting the dog's rear end from below, but eventually Zoomy was on solid ground. His one attempt to run off was stopped by the leash, and then he waited happily, tail wagging, as Penelope handed the end of the leash up to Esther.

That done, Penelope considered how best to get herself back on solid ground. Huh.

Are you stuck?

Of course not, Penelope replied, offended. After a long pause, she added, Did you happen to notice how Matteo got out?

He put his shoulders against one wall and walked up the other side. Esther replaced her thermos lid. You might want to hurry. Derek is rolling up the diagrams.

Promise you'll make Jake bail me out if I get arrested, Penelope said. She pressed her back against the dirt, ignoring the cold as the moisture seeped through her t-shirt. Her first attempt failed before she got both feet off the stainless steel casket.

Of course. What's he up to today?

The maneuver was harder than it looked. She had to maintain enough pressure against the side to keep from falling while still being able to move her legs. On her third attempt, Penelope got both feet against the dirt opposite her and began inching her feet upward. He and Brian are house hunting, she grunted, thighs burning. I would have gone along if you hadn't called.

Esther held up her phone and took a photo of Penelope attempting to climb out. So Brian is serious about moving here?

Back when Jake had been the acting police chief, Brian had been one of his best detectives and a good friend. Then Brian's marriage had disintegrated and Purcell had been hired for the permanent position of police chief. Brian had taken a job in a company out of state. After a merger and the relocation of the company's headquarters to Dubai, he was moving again.

Looks like it. Brian's going to work for Jake part-time. Penelope's feet hit a softer section and the earth crumbled. Despite a wild scramble to maintain her place, her feet dropped back to the casket. She stood to stretch her legs. I almost had it that time.

Just don't damage the roots of the rosebush, Esther warned.

I would never. Penelope brushed more dirt away from the crumbled section, hoping Esther couldn't see that part of the wall. Instead of the smooth sides that Matteo had left, she now had a tiny ledge about a foot below the ground that she could use to help push herself up. Hopefully that was lower than the rose's roots would be. Before she could try again, more dirt crumbled, revealing fabric, bright green under a layer of dirt. Didn't the Rose Garden Society plant this?

Yes. Why?

They left a fabric weed block under it.

What? Esther was far more concerned about the rosebush than Penelope being stuck in an open grave. She maneuvered her wheelchair around the side of the pit to get a better look. Zoomy followed happily behind her. That doesn't look like any weed block I've ever seen.

Penelope tugged on the fabric, causing more dirt to crumble. It's polyester. Which made sense, given how long it had been in the earth. Natural fibers would have degraded. Now that more of it was visible, she was able to figure out what it was. It's a tracksuit top. Someone must have accidentally buried it when they planted the rose. Penelope