The mechanic didn’t bring out a dusty tome, or tap into the computer at the end of the counter. He merely stared at me, as though I’d just wafted up out of the nearest buried coffin.

“You kin of theirs?”

I checked my watch. Cocktails in ten. Why had I thought I could make this detour and still get to the mansion on time?

“I’m doing some research,” I said. “And I’m in kind of a hurry, so if you’d just give me a map—”

“Horrible thing,” Cemetery Man broke in. “I remember it like it was yesterday. Ron and Evie were both hometown kids. Grew up right in Cactus Bend. Evie had that boy out of wedlock, and we all knew he was a bad seed.” He plucked a sheaf of papers from a stack, flipped through until he came to the page he wanted, and drew X’s on two small squares, amid dozens of anonymous others. “Killed them in cold blood, he did. And they sent him to one of those country club jails out in California. Ask me, they should have fried him.”

I shuddered, though it was warm in the office, and my hand shook a little as I took the map. Deciding to dig into my past was one thing, and actually discussing my parents’ grisly fate with one of the locals was another.

“Thanks for your help.” I’d come back to the cemetery, I decided, after I’d checked in at Casa Larimer, and perhaps ask a few questions.

“I didn’t get your name,” Cemetery Man said, tagging alongside me all the way to the car. He walked with a funny little hopping trot.

“Mojo Sheepshanks,” I answered. I even managed a smile.

“Boomer Harrison,” he supplied. I supposed watching over a cemetery was solitary work, and a person had to take his conversations wherever he found them. “You say you’re doing research? You writing a book or something? I know a lot about that case, if you are. They had a daughter, those folks. Prettiest little girl you ever saw. Somebody found her hidin’ in her mama’s dryer after the murders. Blood from head to foot. She wasn’t right in the head after that—well, you can just imagine—then darned if she didn’t go and get herself abducted! My wife and me, we always thought there must have been a curse on that whole Mayhugh outfit.”

“I’m not writing a book, Mr. Harrison. Just checking facts for a friend’s genealogy project. I’d like to come back and talk to you again, if you wouldn’t mind. Say, tomorrow?”

Boomer’s whole face lit up. “Well, that would be fine, Miss Sheepshanks. It would be just fine. I’ll be watchin’ for you.”