The Mystery of the Lakeshore Ltd - An Eleanor and Lydia Mystery

Chapter Seven

They'd expected the boy to text Lydia, but the speed with which he did it took them all by surprise.

9pm

Lydia showed her companions the brief message.

After gulping down half his lemonade, Lowell smacked his lips together. "Two women going to meet a kidnapper in a cemetery after dark. What could possibly go wrong?

Eleanor refilled his glass. "Don't underestimate us, Mr. Lopez."

He cackled and coughed. "I wouldn't dare."

Not wanting to leave a thing to chance, they arrived at the cemetery more than two hours ahead of time. Crimson ribbons draped across the twilight sky lending a soft, surreal light to the quiet landscape. They parked the car in the lot behind the college's dormitories, and Lydia pulled a wheelchair from the trunk.

Eleanor watched her unfold the contraption and worked to keep her thoughts about the chair and the indignities of old age to herself. At least her mind was sharp, and she could still tend to her own needs. Others suffered far worse troubles than she did.

Lydia caught her eye and grinned. "You look like you swallowed a sour pickle."

"You're not too far off, my dear. I'd say a bitter pill, though, rather than a sour pickle, but let's not dwell on it." She sat down and admitted to herself that taking the pressure off her aching legs was a great relief. The last few days had left her sore to the bone.

The two of them set off through the parking lot and across the street to the oldest and largest cemetery in the county. Paths wound between rows of crooked and crumbling gravestones that had been old and worn when Eleanor's parents were children. Squirrels darted across their path and into the sprawling branches of ancient oaks and maples.

Lydia put the brakes on the chair long enough to drag a fallen branch out of the road. "You were right to come so early. This would have been a lot more difficult in the dark."

That was only one of the reasons Eleanor had wanted to get to their rendezvous early. She scanned the cemetery but saw no one else around except an elderly man carrying an armful of flowers toward the area where the stones were far newer, shinier, and more modern in appearance. "I suspect our friend will also want to arrive early and get the lay of the land, but he'll need to evade his companions which cuts his time short and gives us the advantage."

A precipitous drop of more than thirty feet down to a shallow, muddy river marked the border of the cemetery furthest from the college. There, beneath the leafy green canopy, stood towering memorials bearing the same names that had become familiar to the residents of the county from street signs, hospitals, theaters, and schools. Half a dozen small mausoleums stood among the gravestones. Beer cans, plastic bottles, discarded food wrappers, and a single pair of lacy red underpants littered the ground around one of the little buildings--a red brick structure with an iron-banded wooden door.

Seeing the mess sent a pang to Eleanor's heart. "I do believe the younger generation is brilliant in so many ways, but this is a ghastly testament to their respectfulness."

"Don't blame all of us. Only the stoners and the skanks come out here."

"And us, apparently."

Lydia set the brakes on the chair again. "It's not exactly the same." She went to the door and gave a hearty pull. It swung open slowly on groaning hinges as if the building itself were protesting yet another set of invaders.

"Maybe we're not so different. We're just two more people, using this sacred place for our nefarious business."

Lydia gestured at the panties. "We're different, Nana."