Chapter 7. John, the pigeon fancier

The next morning I met the others at the school gates.

'So?' Elmo demanded as soon as I came up to them. 'I mean that guy, who was on the grave with the pigeon and who ran away once he saw Nick and Richelle.'

'I think that it's very strange,' I said importantly.

'A very clever remark,' Nick snorted.

Trying my best to ignore him, I told them about my dream. Nick, Elmo and Sunny took it quite indifferently. But Liz and Richelle looked really startled.

'I told you,' Richelle whispered, opening her eyes wide. 'We'd better forget about this grave!'

'Oh, come on, it's just a dream,' Nick waved his hand impatiently. 'Listen,' he went on, his eyes alive with curiosity, 'I think that we should find out something about this grave. We can ask the sexton, who gave that interview, for example.'

'Nick, today we have to find your mate from the train and pass the pigeon to him,' Sunny objected. 'I'm not going to keep it in my house any more. Besides, he needs a medical care. Mum tried to dress his wing, but he didn't even let her come close.'

'Okay,' Nick agreed. 'We can go to the graveyard after that.'

'All what we can do now is go to school,' Elmo went towards the school building. 'The bell will ring soon. You know Mr Larson doesn't like it when students are late.'

###

After lessons we raced to Sunny's house to take the cage and then started wandering around the outskirts of Raven Hill, looking for John's house.

'If this pigeon is really high-bred we should demand a reward,' Nick kept saying. 'Such high-bred pigeons don't lie on a road.'

'In this case he was lying in Elmo's garden,' I objected immediately. 'So we can say that he was lying on a road.'

'It doesn't matter,' Nick replied. 'We saved this pigeon from the cat. We saved his life. So we should receive something for that.'

'Oh, you're so boring,' I sighed.

'At least I'm not so foolish,' Nick snapped.

'Stop fighting,' Liz pleaded. 'Nick, Elmo, please, try to remember what this John said about his house.'

'He said that…' Nick began.

'His house isn't far,' Elmo interrupted him. 'Look over there.' He pointed up at the sky.

We all raised our heads and saw a flock of pigeons. Most of them were white.

'Maybe our pigeon is from there, too,' Liz said in a low voice. 'Maybe he was flying with the rest of them, but then something happened to him?'

'The pigeon loft must be somewhere not far from here,' Elmo said. 'Look around attentively.'

He was right. Fifteen minutes later Sunny pointed at a big, genteel, old-fashioned house with an annex for pigeons.

'It must be here,' Sunny said.

The pigeon in the cage began to grumble something, probably agreeing with her, or maybe sharing with us unpleasant memories about the nasty cat.

Liz opened the gate and we went along the path towards the door. The house was surrounded by a nice garden with green lawn. Liz pressed the doorbell. The door immediately threw open as if the owner was standing right behind it. A man of about forty in a gray shirt and dark jeans was standing in the doorway and looking at us with astonishment.

'Hello,' Nick said, moving forward. 'We met in the train two days ago. Remember?'

'Of course I remember,' the man grinned. 'Nick and Elmo? Right?'

'Right,' Nick nodded. 'This is our friends. Liz, Richelle, Sunny and Tom.'

The man stared at us with interest.

'John,' Nick went on, 'you told us that you bred pigeons. That's why we decided that you could help us.'

'We've got an injured pigeon,' Liz put in. 'Maybe he's yours?'

Elmo with an obvious effort raised the huge cage for the man to look at it closer. 'My cat caught him,' he explained.

John leant towards the cage, looking closely at the bird.

'We think this pigeon is high-bred,' Elmo said. 'And there's a capsule on his claw.'

'I see,' the man went on examining the pigeon. 'You're right. The pigeon is high-bred.'

'Is he yours?' Liz asked.

'No,' the man shook his head. 'But I think I'll easily find his owner.'

'But you can cure his wing, can't you?' Liz asked anxiously.

'Of course I can,' the man nodded. 'Don't worry, dear. He's okay. I don't think that his wing is seriously injured. I'll quickly cure it.'

'All the same we should see what's in this capsule,' I put in. 'There may be his owner's address or some important information for the owner.'

'Didn't you open it?' John looked at us attentively.

'We tried, but the pigeon didn't let us even come closer to him,' Elmo replied.

'Very good,' the man nodded with obvious relief. Then he glanced at his watch and picturesquely clutched at his head with both hands. 'I have to go now,' he said quickly, nervously looking back over his shoulder.

'We have to return the cage to its owner,' Sunny said.

'Sure,' the man nodded hastily. 'Look. Come here in a couple of days, I'll give you back your cage. Okay? But now I really have to go.'

'Sure,' we nodded.

The next moment the door shut in front of our noses. We exchanged glances.

'Come on! I want to see that grave again,' Nick recovered first.

###

It took us about twenty minutes to reach the graveyard and to find the strange grave with the marble pigeon. But when we came closer, we saw a man standing beside the gravestone.

'Go past him, act normal,' Elmo hissed to us.

But this trick failed. Once the man heard our steps, he immediately turned round and went in the opposite direction and soon disappeared out of sight.

We glanced at each other. I can say for sure that at that moment everyone was thinking about one and the same things. Why do all visitors of this grave run away as soon as they see someone? We stopped about twenty meters from the grave, looking at it.

'I don't think that we should go to this grave,' I mumbled, remembering my dream. 'This grave gives me the creeps.'

'Tom's right,' Richelle whispered, looking around with fear. 'There's something spooky about this grave. Besides this dream…'

'Let's come closer to see,' Nick interrupted her, his black eyes alive with curiosity.

Oh no, I thought. Don't do that, Nick! Don't dare.

'Are you going to come up to the cursed grave?' Richelle cried in horror, as if Nick suggested dropping in the hell.

'Nick's right,' Elmo nodded. 'We should see what's there. Otherwise we'll never understand what's been going on here.'

'You mustn't come to the cursed grave,' Richelle cried, her face pale as a piece of paper. 'If you come, you'll be very sorry! The curse will fall upon you! And upon the rest of us!' She grabbed Nick's hand. 'Don't go,' she said firmly.

'Nick, don't go, please,' Liz pleaded, looking anxiously at Richelle. 'There's no need in it. I know you don't believe in paranormal, but strange things happen all the time, you know.'

Nick hesitated.

'Look, we've come here to find out who was buried here,' Sunny said calmly. 'So let's do what we were going to do.'

'Okay,' Nick gave up. Then he glanced at the grave again and, taking Richelle's hand, turned round, heading for the sexton's office. The rest of us trailed after them.

###

The sexton's office turned out to be a small, nice house behind the church. We came up to the door, but the door opened before we knocked. A man of fifty or so, in a dirty singlet and old jeans stood in the doorway and looked at us suspiciously.

'Do you have questions to me?' he asked severely and rubbed the grey stubble on his chin.

'Yes, we have,' Nick nodded.

'Speak,' the man said and noisily blew his nose without using a handkerchief.

Richelle wrinkled her nose in disgust and looked away.

'What's wrong with her?' the sexton asked in sincere astonishment.

'She can't take her eyes from the graveyard,' I grinned. 'She's admiring it. Your graveyard is so beautiful.'

'Yeah, this is a model graveyard,' the sexton seemed to be pleased with my words. 'I do my best to keep it in order. Even big people from the city want to have a grave here.'

'Like that woman, who was buried in the grave with the marble pigeon,' I tried to turn the conversation into the right turn.

'Oh, listen to my advice,' the sexton started to rub his chin again, 'keep away from that grave.'

'Why?' Liz asked.

'Because the grave is cursed,' the sexton replied. 'Anyone who comes close to this grave ends up dying under strange circumstances.'

'Nonsense,' Sunny snorted.

'Come here after midnight, young lady,' the sexton glanced at her slyly, 'then you'll see… For example a couple of nights ago I made my usual round at night. It was about an hour after midnight. So I slowly wandered, looking around for breakers and suddenly came across that woman's lover.'

'Who was blown up in his car?' Richelle gasped.

'That's right,' the sexton nodded. 'He smiled at me softly. I tried my best to keep going ahead and when I looked back to see, he wasn't there.'

'Wow,' Richelle gasped, clapping her hand to her mouth.

'It's "wow" for you, young lady,' the sexton frowned. 'As for me, I almost had a heart attack.'

'I can understand,' I shivered. I could imagine what I'd feel if I had that experience.

'You know, it was a very luxurious funeral,' the sexton went on. 'People were so good-dressed and impressive-looking. Their huge, luxury cars occupied almost the whole parking lot. Four men were carrying the splendid black casket. And flowers… only dark red roses. They put at least fifteen bunch of flowers on the grave. Or maybe even more.

'So luxurious funeral,' Nick put in cajolingly. 'This woman must have been an important person. But they didn't even write her name on the tombstone.'

'I said the same to Mr Donner, it's the man, who was in love with this woman,' the sexton replied. 'I told him that decedent's name and dates of birth and death should be perpetuated. But Mr Donner kept saying "Will of my poor lady, will of my poor lady. It's all my fault. I killed her by my betrayal. So let it be the way she wanted."'

'But you must know her name,' Nick said. 'Can you tell us?'

'What for?' the sexton's eyes narrowed as he glanced at Nick suspiciously. 'Do you remember my advice? Keep away from this grave.'

'But we just think that it's wrong that this poor woman is nameless,' Nick looked at him with innocent eyes.

'Yeah,' I muttered with a mourning expression on my face. 'We think that this woman's name should remain at least in our memory.'

'I see you, mate, understand such things,' the sexton glanced at me respectfully.

'He's a future historian,' Nick put in immediately.

'You know, mate, I always wanted to be a history teacher,' the grim sexton smiled unexpectedly softly at me. 'But sometimes life makes things happen in spite of our desires.'

'Tom, as a future historian, thinks that people shouldn't forget anyone,' Nick said, trying to satisfy the grim sexton.

He seemed to be successful in it. The old sexton was becoming more and more respectful to me. 'You're right, mate,' he beamed at me. 'I like your principles.'

'He even keeps a special catalogue,' Nick went on lying with inspiration.

'What catalogue?' I stared at him.

'Oh, you're a real future scientist!' Nick threw up his hands theatrically. 'He forgets everything all the time!' he said confidentially to the sexton. Then he gave me a meaningful glance. 'You've got a great catalogue of names of people you know for your future research book!'

'Oh, you mean this one,' I finally understood what he meant.

'And what do you write in this catalogue?' the sexton asked.

'Um…I…' I glanced inquiringly at Nick.

'Names, surnames, interesting facts from life and dates of birth and death of all people he knows,' Nick said hastily.

'Did all people you know die?' the sexton stared at me with interest.

'No! No! Not at all!' I waved my hands in horror.

'But how can you know their dates of death?' the sexton raised his eyebrows.

'He leaves a space for this information so that he can add it later,' Nick explained, managing to keep his face very serious. I heard Sunny give a snort of laughter and ducked behind my back. Richelle, quite the opposite, was bright red with embarrassment.

'That's very farsighted, you know,' the sexton approved my nonexistent catalogue. 'You know, mate, some clever people even buy graves and tombstones in advance.'

'Tom wants to place you on his catalogue, Mr…' Nick said.

'Mr Haily,' said the old sexton. 'Sure,' he nodded to me, very pleased. 'Write down, historian,' he said.

'I don't have a pen and paper to write,' I spread my hands.

'Okay, wait here, I'll bring something,' the sexton disappeared inside the house. In a couple of minutes he came out, holding a piece of yellowish paper and a pencil with teeth marks in his hands.

I took the pencil and piece of paper from his hands. 'What's that?' I stared in horror at the paper. It was a blank sheet of burial certificate.

'Don't be afraid, historian,' the old sexton tapped me on the shoulder. 'We'll all be there. Okay, write down. Barry Heily, was born on August 6, 1945. The date of death you'll have to find out from my relatives.'

I wrote down everything he said.

'Do you want to learn more about me?' Mr Heily asked.

'No, thank you,' Elmo replied instead of me. 'We'll come here later with a notepad and write down everything properly.'

'Sure,' the old sexton seemed to like this decision. 'My life is quite interesting. I've got a lot interesting things to tell.'

'Mr Heily,' Nick said pleadingly. 'You promised to give Tom the name and dates of this woman.'

'Theresa May was her name,' the old man said quietly and looked around with fear. 'I wish they had chosen another graveyard. Okay, wait here, I have to see the dates in my register book,' he stepped inside and in a minute came out again. 'Write,' he said and dictated dates of birth and death.

We thanked him and went down the path.

'So, what do you think about this dead man, who walks around the graveyard at night?' Liz whispered.

'I'm telling you, it' a cursed grave,' Richelle said, clutching at Nick's sleeve and looking around with fear. 'Do you still think it's funny?'

'I think that this guy drinks too much sometimes,' Nick snorted.

'We should listen to him and keep away from this grave,' Richelle urged. 'Otherwise we'll all end up lying in a gully with our heads broken.'

'Listen,' Nick turned to us. 'I'm going to have a closer look at this grave.'

'You mustn't' go to the cursed grave,' Richelle repeated for the hundredth time.

'Look, Nick, there's no need in it,' Liz glanced anxiously at Nick.

'I think the girls are right,' I supported them. 'There's no need to risk.'

'You can wait for me here,' Nick insisted. 'I'll just look what's there and come back.'

'I'll go too,' Elmo said decisively.

'Listen,' Sunny put in, calm as ever, 'let's say that this grave is really cursed…'

'Let's say!?' Richelle exclaimed indignantly. 'Elmo told that two men were found dead after visiting this grave!'

'Hang on,' Sunny went on calmly. 'I want to say that if this woman really died with angriness in her heart, she was angry with her offenders, not with us. We're just strangers for her.'

'You're right,' Liz breathed out with relief.

'I think we can look at it closer,' I also became interested.

'I don't know,' Richelle still doubted. 'Who knows, maybe this woman was angry with the whole world.'

'I'd rather stay here,' I immediately changed my mind.

'What a brave guy you are, Tom,' Nick drawled.

'But you are so clever, anyway,' I pouted. 'You poke your nose into everything.'

Nick snorted and went towards the grave with the marble pigeon.

'I'll see, too,' Elmo said, turning to us impatiently. 'Look. Stay here if you don't want to go.'

He quickly caught up with Nick. The rest of us exchanged glances and reluctantly followed them.

'Elmo, what do you want to find there?' Liz panted.

'There's something strange about this grave,' Elmo replied, without turning back. 'There must be something we've missed. I don't believe in walking dead people, I'm sure that there's another normal explanation.'

'Shh?' Sunny hissed suddenly.

Everyone stopped talking and looked at her. Sunny was pointing at the grave. The sun shone brightly. The marble pigeon glinted in the sunlight. Just like in my dream. But this was not what attracted Sunny's attention. She was pointing at a man, who was standing in front of the headstone. Then the man turned a little and we all gasped. We knew this man. It was John, the Pigeon fancier.

As quickly as we could we ducked down behind a wide gravestone.

'What is he doing here?' I demanded.

'Maybe he also was in love with this woman,' Richelle suggested.

The man went on standing in front of the headstone, looking mourning. On the ground, near the tombstone, a huge bunch of dark red roses was lying. There were at least fifty roses, tied together with a wide black ribbon.

'It seems to me that a lot of men were in love with this woman,' Sunny said thoughtfully.

'And all of them hurt her one way or another,' Richelle added.

'Oh, poor woman!' Liz's eyes watered. 'Everyone abandoned her! All these men ruined her life.'

'I wonder how many lovers she had,' Nick sneered.

'A lot,' Liz replied confidently. 'She wouldn't die only because of one man. The question is what will happen with this one.'

'I'm sure nothing will happen to him,' Sunny scowled. 'Liz, all these deaths were just a coincidence.'

'Shut up,' hissed Richelle. 'Do you want him to notice us?'

We went quiet. John stood for a while in front of the headstone. Then he slowly knelt down and quickly ran his hands along the headstone, pretending that he'd lost something.

'A classical dodge,' Elmo commented. 'Now I understand what he's doing here.'

'Me too,' Nick nodded. 'Someone secretly passes something to him here.'

The pigeon fancier stood up, trying to look casual. I noticed that he was holding a small packet in his hand, which he immediately shoved into his pocket. Then he looked around attentively, pulled out a cell phone from another pocket, and punched in some numbers.

'Done,' he said into the phone. 'Yes… No. No, no way,' he slowly walked away from us, so we couldn't hear him any more.

We waited till he disappeared out of sight and only then dared to stand up.

'Look, there's something written on the ribbon,' I pointed at the flowers.

Nick let go of Richelle's hand and determinately walked towards the grave.

'Nick, don't,' Richelle tried to stop him.

Nick didn't bother to answer, just kept walking towards the grave. He came up to it, bent down and unfolded the ribbon. He stared at it for a while, then turned to us.

Elmo and Sunny went over to him. Richelle didn't even move. Liz and I glanced at each other and after a little pause, came up to the grave, too.

I glanced at the black ribbon, Nick was holding unfolded. There was only one word, written in large gold letters, "Sorry". I bent down and wanted to pick up the flowers, but Elmo's ear-piercing yell made me stop.

'What?' I looked at him reproachfully.

'It might be a bomb,' he whispered.

I immediately stood up and stepped away from the flowers. Elmo could be right. One of this woman's lovers had been blown up in his car. Other her lover had been found with broken head in the gully. What if a third lover brought the bomb to a fourth one?

'Ugh,' I breathed out, shaking my head. 'Rubbish!'

'What?' Liz glanced at me.

'No, nothing,' I blushed, realizing that I must have started to think out loud.

Trying not to touch the flowers, we attentively examined the grave, but didn't find anything interesting.

'Come on,' Liz finally said, turned round and walked towards Richelle, who was still standing where we'd left her. 'There's nothing unusual here. Just a plain grave.'