A cloud of skepticism crossed her face. “Wait just a moment.” She turned and went into the cottage. A few seconds later she returned with a colorful brochure. “Just in case your Google thing isn’t entirely clear, this may be useful.” She paused. “May I direct you to the resting place of a specific friend or relative?”

“No. But thank you. It’s such a lovely day, I think I’d prefer to find my own way.”

She cast a worried look at the sky, which was half blue, half clouds. “They’ve been talking about the possibility of rain. If you’d tell me the name—”

“You’re very kind,” he said, backing away, “but I’ll be fine.” He retreated to the small parking area and saw on the opposite side of it a flagstone pathway passing under a rose-covered trellis beside which a sign read PEDESTRIAN ENTRANCE. As he walked through it, he glanced back. Paulette Purley was still standing in front of the cottage, watching him with a look of anxious curiosity.

It didn’t take Gurney long to realize what Hardwick had meant when he referred to Willow Rest as “seriously peculiar.” The place bore little resemblance to any cemetery he’d ever seen. Yet there also was something familiar about it. Something he couldn’t put his finger on.

The basic layout consisted of a gently curving cobblestone lane that paralleled the low brick wall surrounding the property. Smaller lanes branched from it in toward the center of the cemetery grounds at regular intervals amid a profusion of lush rhododendrons, lilacs, and hemlocks. These lanes had offshoots of still smaller lanes, each of which terminated like a driveway at a mowed grassy area the size of a small backyard, separated from its neighbors by rows of waist-high spireas and beds of daylilies. In each of the grassy areas he entered, there were several marble grave markers, flush with the ground. In addition to the name of the interred, each marker bore only a single date instead of the traditional birth and death dates.

Next to each “driveway” was a plain black mailbox with a family name stenciled on the side. He opened a few of the mailboxes as he made his way along the lanes, but found nothing in any of them. About twenty minutes into his exploration, he came upon a mailbox that bore the name Spalter. It marked the entrance to the largest of the plots he’d encountered so far. The plot occupied what seemed to be one of the higher points in Willow Rest, a gentle rise from which the narrow river was visible beyond the perimeter wall. Beyond the river was the state highway that bisected Long Falls. On the far side of the highway a block of three-story apartment buildings faced the cemetery.

Chapter 13

Death in Long Falls