Wednesday

Chapter 2: Stolen Evidence

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Wednesday found himself in a cemetery, breaking open the stone lids that held all the dead Outcasts he had read about. He had busted open Patricia Redcars resting place and pulled out her urn, when someone spoke behind him.

"Nothing stirs the senses like a funerary urn."

Wednesday turned to see an older woman with gray hair that was styled into an updo and a fancy black dress.

"The only people who deserve to be buried in this dump are the maintenance staff."

Wednesday grinned. "Grandmama...you're here."

His grandmother smiled. "My grandson calls me up for dirt on a competitor? You practically dared me to show up."

"I knew you'd be working weekends."

"Death never takes a holiday so neither do I." She took the urn from him. "Why are you interested in this Patricia Redcar?"

"She's a part of my ongoing investigation." He pulled out the newspaper clippings. "I found all of these obituaries. All Outcasts, all patients at Willow Hill. They're all cremated and buried here."

"What does this have to do with you?" Grandmama wondered.

"I saw a vision of my girlfriend's death. Somehow it's all connected."

She pulled out a business card. "Please give her my card. I offer a friend's and family discount on all funerals and caskets."

Wednesday shoved the card in his coat pocket. "If I had my psychic ability back, I would've solved this already. My mother is going to burn Gabriel's book."

"No crying over spilled ashes. You know what I say about...feelings." His Grandmama gagged.

"Bury them deep inside and allow them to slowly eat away at you." Wednesday recited.

She nodded and turned to the urn, opening the lid and looking inside. "Ah, shoddy work, I must say. Lumpy." She sniffed the urn. "Hmm. That's odd." Grandmama handed Wednesday the urn. "Here, just like I taught you."

Wednesday leaned down and smelled the ashes. "Overtones of deer...hints of squirrel and raccoon...and a subtle finish of shih tzu."

"Very good. What's missing."

Wednesday sniffed the ashes again. "...human."

Suddenly, a familiar one-eyed crow swooped down and grabbed the newspaper clippings in its beak and flew off.

"My evidence!"

Wednesday ran through the graveyard, following the bird, and watched as it landed in the shoulder of the cloaked figure he saw at the camp. The figure was quick to climb onto their motorcycle and drive off, taking the evidence with them.

...

Wednesday ran back to his Grandmama who was sitting in a chair by her car waiting for him.

"A good run through the tombstones always makes you feel alive. Was that crow luring you into a murderous trap?" She asked hopefully.