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the door, slowly creeping
inside. It was quiet inside, save for the ticking of the large grandfather
clock in the hall. She resisted the urge to call out Goldstein’s name, fearful
that the old man might not be alone.
    She found herself in the study soon enough, having
noted that everything appeared to still be in place. If there was theft
involved in this, whatever had been taken was n’t immediately
evident.
    Catching sight of Goldstein’s feet, she dropped
her weapon and sprinted to his side. He was sitting on the floor, his head
tilted downward and his back against the bottom of the window. His face was a
dripping mess and Charity fought against the revulsion that suddenly washed
over her.
    Checking for a pulse, Charity noticed something
peculiar. His ruby ring, which had always shined so brightly, was missing.
    “How is he?” Mitchell asked. The big man had entered
the building and made his own way to the study. When Charity shook her head, he
turned away and sighed. “Bloody old fool,” he said at last. “I told him that he
should always carry a gun but he’d say to me, ‘I’m a former Gravedigger, my boy
– the day I can’t take care of myself is the day I need to die.’ I guess he had
to be right, didn’t he?”
    Charity stood up. “His ring is gone.”
    Mitchell grunted. “Mr. Goldstein told me that it
was very old, dating back at least to the Middle Ages. He took it from a black
magician in Germany during The Great War.”
    “Looks like it was the only thing taken so I think
whoever did this came here just for that.”
    “Do you think it was Meeks?” Mitchell asked. He’d
listened to Charity’s description of the villain’s home and remembered how
dangerous Goldstein had considered him.
    “If it is, then I feel even more terrible. I
should have listened to Josef and gone off to kill this guy!”
    “You never know how things will go,” Mitchell
counseled. “I’ll be right back.” The big man left the room and returned with a
sheet. He spread it out on the floor and then lifted Goldstein’s corpse,
setting it in the center of the sheet.
    “We shouldn’t move him,” Charity pointed out.
    “Why not?”
    “The police….”
    Mitchell looked up at her and smiled, despite the
grimness of the situation. “You really think we should call the cops in on
this? I imagine they’d ask a few questions about Mr. Goldstein’s past… and
mine. Not to mention yours. Then you have all the weapons and weird books that
are lying around here. Trust me,” he added, beginning to wrap his employer’s
body. “This is what Mr. Goldstein would have wanted.”
    “What are you going to do with him?”
    “I’m going to put him in the car and then I’m
going to drive out to the cemetery. I’ll bury him in your grave.”
    Charity nodded. It made sense, though it still
seemed wrong not to have a ceremony of some kind for Goldstein. Yes, he’d been
annoying, and she couldn’t forget that he had shot her and buried her in a
coffin – but at his core, he’d been a good man. “I’ll come with you.”
    “You sure?”
    “I’m a Gravedigger, right?”
    “Yeah, I guess you are.” Mitchell stood up,
lifting the corpse over his shoulder. Charity noticed that the sheet was
already beginning to stain with blood. “Listen, luv, I’ll make the same offer
to you that I did old Goldstein: I’ll work for you and with you, doing the best
that I can to assist. But I can’t be the man that he was. I don’t have his
knowledge or his skills.”
    “That makes two of us.” Charity put a hand on
Mitchell’s arm. “I appreciate that. I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
    “The house is bought and paid for. Goldstein also
told me all the pertinent information about his bank accounts and I know that
he put your name on them, as well.”
    Charity couldn’t quite hide her surprise. She
hadn’t even been sure how much Goldstein liked her, but apparently he’d been
making preparations to leave his