The Secrets of Lily Graves by Sarah Strohmeyer

Author:Sarah Strohmeyer
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2014-03-27T07:00:00+00:00

The hours until I was to meet Matt at the Mason’s tomb seemed interminable. Fortunately, there were tons of trick-or-treaters to keep me distracted, although they were visibly disappointed when I answered the door in my Halloween costume. I don’t know what they were expecting—a girl in a floor-length lace gown with black lips, perhaps?

“Do you like ’em stiff?” asked a wise guy, who was way too old to be begging for candy. There was one every year.

I responded with the usual. “I don’t know. Guess I’ll find out when you’re dead, huh?”

Then I tossed a handful of Reese’s, closed the door, and headed downstairs to see what was up with Boo, since Mom was out with Perfect Bob. Halloween was a guaranteed night off in the funeral biz. No one wants to hold a wake with the doorbell ringing every two seconds.

Boo was bent over Mrs. Dubovsky, slipping flesh-colored contacts under her eyelids so they wouldn’t appear sunken. Mrs. Dubovsky was the other first grade teacher, the one I didn’t have at Potsdam Elementary. Age had not been kind to her, I thought, assessing her apple-dumpling physique, blue hair, and a permanent frown that Boo was valiantly attempting to prop upward.

“A little help?” Boo lowered the volume on the police scanner and nodded for me to pinch the corner of the mouth while she applied an extra-thick coating of morticians’ glue. “You have any Halloween plans tonight?”

“Yeah. I’m meeting up with Matt at the cemetery.”

Boo squeezed the tube so hard, drops of glue sprayed onto Mrs. Dubovsky’s nose. “Shoot!” Fetching a paper towel, she gently wiped it off before it hardened. Then she redid it with painstaking care.

“You are not going to see Matt,” she said. “It’s not safe. Everyone was talking about Erin’s murder at the salon today, and the general consensus was that the boyfriend did it.”

Ex-boyfriend. “He didn’t.”

“Don’t be so sure. You remember Carla Remson? She used to be the school nurse, and she said sometimes football players like Matt suffer concussions that go undiagnosed and turn them violent.”

I lifted my fingers. “Matt is not brain-injured, if that’s your theory.” The smile fell. I pinched it up again. “Anyway, I have to see him. There are a whole bunch of questions I need answered and Matt doesn’t want to call or text.”

“That right there is alarming.” She squinted at her work, lowering the side I’d been holding so Mrs. D didn’t end up mimicking a demented clown. “I’ve come around to your mom’s view, Lil. The more distance you put between yourself and him, the better.”

This was a new and disappointing development. Until now, Boo had been generally cool about Matt. “What changed your mind?”

“Can’t say. Sworn to secrecy.”

“To Mom?”

“Who else?”

“But—”

“No buts. An oath’s an oath.” Boo rubbed the excess glue from her fingers. “There. How’s that?”

The smile was about one-eighth of an inch higher on the right side, thereby lending a hint of skepticism to Mrs. D’s smirk, as if she were still ribbing some poor kid for missing school picture day.

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