Tell Them Katy Did by Victor J. Banis Page A

rather enjoyed a cemetery. This was an old one, and large. His business sense told him it was foolish to let the cemetery stay where it was, occupying some of the most valuable property in the town, but another part of him found that rather amusing. When the city council had debated moving the graves to put up an office complex, he had come down rather forcefully against it. Of course, in view of his opposition, they had abandoned the idea.
    On a whim, he walked through the open gates and strolled in the direction of the waiting cars. The place was neatly kept, the gravesites free from weeds. He made a mental note to find out the caretaker’s name and say a good word for him at the next council meeting.
    As he went, he read some of the tombstones, clear enough in the intermittent moonlight. He saw the grave of someone he knew, Edwin Murdock—a good man, but he couldn’t hold his liquor. He’d died in a car accident not six months ago, but he’d been drunk as could be when it happened, so you could just as well say he drank himself to death. And here was someone who had once dared to cross swords with him over a political matter. And there lay the man whom he had replaced as President of the firm.
    In a sense, you could say he had beaten them all, hadn’t he? They were dead and he was alive. He smiled and puffed out his chest like a pigeon. There was no question about it, it wasn’t all luck, either. He was a clever man, he didn’t mind admitting that to himself. In the long run, that was what mattered. A man made his own luck, as he saw it.
    The moon succumbed to the clouds, and it grew all at once darker. He approached the cars. The interior of the limousine was all shadow, and he could see no one inside it, but the rear of the hearse was open now and two men dressed in somber black stood on either side of it, as if waiting for someone. “Who is this service for?” Delbert asked them.
    They did not even look at him. Delbert saw a casket in the rear of the vehicle, deeply polished mahogany with railings of gleaming brass. A pale light flickered off to his right, and glancing in that direction, he saw an open grave and beside it an old-fashioned lantern, it’s flame dancing in the nighttime breeze. As he stared, a clod of dirt sailed over the brim of the opening. Someone was inside, still digging the grave.
    He tried to think whom it could be for. Mrs. Alyson lived two houses away from him and he knew her child was sick, but he would surely have heard of it if the child had died. His cook liked her gossip, and whatever she heard she shared with the houseboy, who quickly passed it on to him. Anyway, this was not a child’s grave. It was clearly for a man, a big man. And the casket in the hearse was a large one too.
    He spoke to the two men again and this time they looked at him in some confusion. One of them began to speak in a language he didn’t recognize.
    He tried speaking to them in English, but they no more understood him than he had them. It was shameful, really, that people could come to this country to live and work and not bother to learn the language. They shouldn’t have been hired, in his opinion. Maybe he would visit the local mortuary to make his feelings known.
    Abruptly, the two men turned away from him as if he weren’t there. Delbert wanted to say something more, but what was the point, when they couldn’t understand him? Raindrops had begun to fall, timorously at first and then with more gusto. He wished now he had not strolled into the cemetery, and though dignity prevented his running, he walked quickly back toward the gates. His driver had parked and waited outside. Delbert got into the car. His mood had gone sour and when he said, “Take me home,” his voice was rather cross. The rain came down in torrents.
    The moment he got home, he called for the houseboy. The first thing he asked him was, “Who’s died?” Chi Seng knew everything that happened in town. But he shook his head and