Read 1 The Underhanded Stitch for Free Online

that I’m visiting his spirit, too. Understand? ”
    “I think so” Agnes replied tentatively as she picked up her pace, not lagging back now that she’d been reassured a zombie version of Bob Brown wasn’t waiting to greet them at the end of the path.
    Tige kept stopping to check his smell-mail, leaving messages of his own. Maddy was amazed the little fur ball had that much liquid in him. “Come along, doggy. No dawdling,” she urged. But Tige didn’t move unless Agnes gave a tiny tug on his leash.
    “Here we are,” announced Cookie, bending down to place a bouquet of yellow flowers on a plot marked as:
     
    Robert ALFRED Brown
    Loving Husband and Father
    May Angels Fly
    You to Heaven
    On Golden Wings
     
    “Wow!” said Agnes. “Your husband’s in there?”
    “No, honey. Just his mortal remains. Bob’s in Heaven sitting at the right hand of God.”
    “You mean he’s got a box seat?”
    “Something like that,” Cookie replied, quickly changing the subject. “Here, help me arrange these flowers in the vase.”
    Agnes knew what she meant, even though she pronounced vase like “face,” while Agnes’ father had taught her to say vase like “roz.” She knelt down to fluff at the pretty yellow petals, forgetting to hold onto the leash.
    “Tige, come back here,” called Maddy when she noticed the dog take off after a squirrel, heading down the hill toward an older part of the cemetery.
    “Tige!” Agnes took up the call.
    Cookie just stood there with her hands on her hips, still exasperated over the dog’s presence in the first place. Wasn’t that sign on the gate clear enough?
    Maddy and her granddaughter gave chase, calling the dog’s name as they ran down the hill, dodging tombstones and jumping over graves. “Tige, Tige!”
    Before they knew it, the pair found themselves in the oldest section of the cemetery, the dates on the rough-hewn stones predating Pleasant Glade by a hundred years. There were more crypts here, and a scattering of mausoleums that looked like a village for the dead. “Yipes,” said Agnes as she scooped up her dog. “We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.” She’d seen a rerun of Wizard of Oz just last week on TV.
    The dog wriggled free, leaping to the ground and heading toward a stone edifice marke d M ADISO N over the doorway. Time had rotted the wooden doorframe, causing one of the hinges to sag and creating a crack about the size of a doggie door. Tige disappeared inside like a mouse taking to its hole in a baseboard. “Tige – ” came Agnes’ plaintive cry as she stared into the dark fissure.
    “My goodness,” said Maddy. “This is my husband’s great-great grandfather’s mausoleum. I came here with him for a memorial service one Easter. It’s a spooky old place.”
    “I’ll say,” agreed Agnes, eyes the size of silver dollars.
    “We should get back up the hill. Cookie will be unhappy that we upset her visit with Bob.”
    “But what about my dog?”
    “Tige will find his way back up the hill. He won’t stray for long.”
    “Grammy, I don’t like him being inside that old stone building. What if a ghost gets him?”
    Maddy patted the girl reassuringly on the shoulder. “There’s no such thing as ghosts, Aggie.”
    “What about Cookie’s husband Bob? Isn’t he a ghost now? Fluttering about up in Heaven like a cloud?”
    “I’m not sure where Bob Brown is residing. He had a wild side to him. The man might be vacationing in a hotter climate, for all I know.”
    Agnes giggled, recognizing her grandmother’s words as a joke. “Don’t tell Cookie that. She might phone up God to ask Him how her husband’s doing.”
    “That would be a long distance call,” laughed Maddy. “Cookie’s too tight with a penny to accept that kind of phone bill.”
    “I’m crawling in there to get Tige,” announced the girl. “He might have fallen into a coffin or something.”
    “No, that’s too dangerous.”
    “I’m not leaving my dog, Grammy. I’ve lost my