I never believed in revenge from the grave until the day of my father’s funeral.

Dad’s burial occurred on a typical, humid Georgia day.  Afterward, my brother and I sat on the porch steps of the funeral home we now owned and watched the summer sun dip below the horizon, leaving streaks of purple, orange, and red across the sky.  The air was a mixture of the aromas of hardwood forest, creek water, wildflowers and baking earth.  It was a comfortable smell, but the long silence between Curtis and I made me uneasy.

Finally Curtis said, “Dad’s gonna get you, you know. He’ll pay you back for what you done.”

I glanced at my brother.  His harshness went right through me.  I’d been ready to offer comfort, something that I’m good at, when he’d hissed his words at me.

“We just buried the man,” I said. “Biggest funeral in Creekville history.  What could he possibly do to me now?”

“Doesn’t matter that he’s dead, Jake.  He’s gonna reach out from the grave and pay you back for how you humiliated him over the years.  Dad never let anybody get away with nothin’.”

I shook my head slowly.  Curtis and I had worked in the family funeral home since we were kids.  Dad inherited it from his father.  Now it was ours.  In high school I’d spent a lot of time defending Curtis against bullies who were irritated by his slow-talking, meek ways.  He was always awkward with people and sensitive about the sick jokes kids would tell about the family business.  The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him, but it was time he learned the truth about what I was planning.  Maybe this argument was a good thing.

“Just how did I humiliate Dad?”

“He knew you were charging teenagers money to look at the dead bodies.”

“I just did that to make a few bucks.”

Curtis’s face reddened and he scrunched his eyes.  He jabbed a finger at me.  “But, you cheated people when you told them sniffing embalming fluid would prolong their life and charged them five dollars a whiff.”

“Jokes, Curtis.  Hell, Dad was the biggest practical joker of all time.  He’d laugh at what I was doing.”

“You’ve changed in the past few years, Jake.  I don’t know you anymore.  Someday you’re gonna be paid back.  And Dad’s the one who’s going to do it.”

      We sat in silence for a few seconds, glaring.  Then Curtis said, “I almost forgot” He reached into his sport coat and pulled out a white envelope.  “This was in Dad’s bureau.  It’s marked ‘urgent’ and addressed to us.  I think it’s instructions on how to run the funeral home now that he’s gone.”

 “Curtis, I got something I need to tell you and this is as good a time as any.”  I took a long, deep breath.  “I’ve lived in this town for thirty-nine years.  But, no more.  Tomorrow I’m leaving for good.  And I’m going alone.”

“What are you talkin’ about, Jake.  You always told Dad you’d stay and run the business when he died.”

“So?  It’s not like he’s here to complain.  I’ve hated this town the past few years.  Dad’s treated us like a couple of screw-ups since Mom died.  We could never do anything right in his eyes.”

“You can’t leave.”

“Look, bro.  You know I’d do anything for you, but I can’t stick around for another day.  I got $8,057.35 I took from the business.  It’s not much, but it’s a start.”

      “You stole from Dad?”

“I needed a nest egg.  I kept it hid in a big brown envelope wrapped with masking tape.  When I leave, the money comes with me.”

I took the letter from Jake’s hand  “Might as well see what the old man had to say.”

“I bet he knew you were stealing and he’s letting you know.”

I ripped open the envelope, unfolded the paper that was inside and read it.  At first the poem didn’t make sense.

Old Man Fillmore went to his grave.
       Four hundred thousand he did save.
       To find the treasure you’ll need a clue.
               To get what you deserve, think about a place           with a view.

 I stared across the street at the gravel parking lot for a few seconds.  Then it all fell into place.

Curtis took the letter.  His fingers underlined the words and his lips moved as he read.  He looked up at me.  “I don’t get it.”

I smiled at my baby brother.  “Remember when Old Man Fillmore died last year and all the commotion about him not having a will?”

Curtis nodded.  “People couldn’t figure out what he did with all his money.  Hell, he owned half the town.  Should have been something.”

I pointed to the letter.  “There was and we’re going to get it--all four hundred thousand dollars.  I always knew Dad would come through.  Hell, Curtis.  We’re about to become rich men.”

The cemetery was about a mile out of town.  I pulled the pick-up off the road behind a clump of trees and got two shovels and the oversized spotlight out of the back.  The air smelled of freshly cut grass and pine.

The moon shimmered as we weaved our way around the gravesites and toward Fillmore’s tomb. Curtis hadn’t said a word on the drive over and his quietness played on my nerves.

 “Fillmore didn’t have a family,” I said.  “How many times did you hear him say he didn’t want anyone to get his money?  Said he was going to take it with him.”

“So?”

“So, I think he made Dad bury the money in his coffin.”

Curtis’s eyes widened.  I could almost see his fear appear in a cloud above his head.  “I ain’t diggin’ him up, Jake.”

“’Course you are.  He made his fortune by cheating everyone in town.  It’s about time someone put his money to good use.”

Fillmore’s grave was at the top of a hill overlooking a rolling meadow.  The stone was flat and simple.  Nothing flashy for the old man.  He never spent a dime more than he had to.  I shined my light over the valley. Best seat in the house Dad always said.  He knew I’d figure out what his poem meant.

I handed Curtis a shovel, then placed the light on the ground so it lit up the area.  Crickets chirped and a gusty breeze rustled the tree branches.  I’d been here hundreds of times, but at night it spooked me.  I poked the shovel into the ground and began to dig.

Curtis stood watching.  “What’ll we do if the sheriff shows up?”

“No chance.  County sheriff comes around this town maybe once a month.  He was here just last week.  Won’t be back for awhile.”

“They’re gonna know someone dug him up.”

“’Course they will.  But, they won’t know who and they sure won’t know why.  Now stop thinking and get to work.  The sooner we get the money the quicker we’ll be out of here.”

I dug for a few minutes, then stretched out on the grass and watched.  Life was good and would get a whole lot better when we had the money.  A few clouds in the sky were tinged with pink, a sure sign that dawn was less than thirty minutes away.  Curtis grunted, the top of his head barely visible from the hole.  Then I saw a light in the distance, out on the road, bobbing and weaving toward the cemetery.

I flipped off our light and scampered toward Curtis.  “Someone’s coming.”

“Oh, shit,” Curtis said.  “I knew we’d get caught.”  He scrambled onto the grass and stared toward the light, which had just entered the cemetery.

“Probably just kids,” I said.  “Go scare ‘em off.  Clang the shovel against a headstone.  That should get them running.”

Curtis hoisted the shovel onto his shoulder and began to walk toward the light.  If it was one thing he was good at, it was following orders.

A few minutes passed and the stillness began to bother me.  Then I heard muffled voices.

“Jesus, Curtis,” I whispered to myself.  “Don’t talk to them.  Get rid of ‘em.”

Footsteps pounded in the distance, growing louder as they got close.  Then I heard a soft thud as if someone had hit a watermelon with a club.  A few seconds later the footsteps sounded again and Curtis entered the clearing, his arms pumping and eyes wide.

He stopped inches from me, his shoulders hunched, breathing heavily.

“Was the sheriff.”  He took several short, quick gasps.  “Said he knew we were here.  Wanted to talk to us.  How’d he know, Jake?”

“Must have seen the truck.”  I looked toward the street.  “You lose him?”

“I panicked, started to run and dropped the shovel.  Sheriff was right behind me and stepped on the edge.  It slammed back and hit him in the temple.  He fell and cracked his head on a tombstone.  He’s dead, Jake.  I killed the goddamn sheriff.  What the hell we gonna do?”

“You sure he’s dead?”

Curtis’s head bobbed up and down several times quickly.  “They’ll send me to the chair, won’t they?”

“First off, it was an accident and second, we’ll cover for each other like always.  That’s what brothers do.  Understand?”

I stared out over the valley, thinking.  Then I pointed toward Fillmore’s grave.  “We’ll put the sheriff in there right after we take out the money.  Not many people come to this part of the cemetery.  It should be awhile before anyone notices the grave’s been tampered with.  No one would suspect us.  Come on.  We gotta move quickly.”

Curtis got back in the hole and started digging.  A few minutes later his shovel clanked against something solid.  He got on his knees and tossed off some dirt with his hands until the top of Fillmore’s coffin appeared.

I jumped into the hole with the shovel and pried open the lid of the casket.  Curtis flashed the light inside.  Fillmore’s bony skull appeared to be smiling.  I expected the money to be in plain sight, but it wasn’t.

I took the light from Curtis.  “Pick him up.”

“Oh, Jeez, Jake.  Do I have to?”

“Do it.”

Curtis twisted Fillmore’s frame while I flashed the beam.  Nothing.

“You were wrong, Jake.  Where the hell is the money?”

In that instant I realized what Dad had done.  “Son of a bitch was playing one last practical joke on us.  He knew we’d dig Fillmore up.  He’s probably up in heaven right now laughing like hell.  We are a couple of screw-ups falling for that story.  Come on.  Let’s get the sheriff.”

The Sheriff’s body was face down on the grass.  Blood was on the stone he fell against.  Curtis grabbed him under the shoulders and I took his feet.  A few minutes later we laid him on top of Fillmore and shut the lid.  Then we began to shovel dirt on top of the casket.

We’d been shoveling for a while when I remembered the cruiser.  “We gotta get the sheriff’s keys and move the car.”

“Maybe he left them in the ignition.”

I shook my head.  “I heard them jangling in his pocket when we moved him.”

I scooped a few shovelfuls off the casket.  A light tap froze my blood.  It was coming from inside the coffin.

“Jesus, Curtis.  I thought you said he was dead.”

Curtis shrugged.  “Guess I was wrong, but this is better.”  He raised his voice.  “Sheriff.  Toss out your keys.”

“What are you an imbecile?”  I shook my head.  “Sometimes I can’t believe you’re my brother.  There must have been some kind of mix-up at the hospital.”

“Don’t call me stupid, Jake.”

“Sometimes I wonder about you.  That’s all I’m saying.”

“You gotta start treating me better or someday I’m gonna . . .”

I began to put dirt back in the hole.

Curtis tugged hard on my shoulder.  “What are you doing?  The Sheriff is still alive.”

“We can’t let him out.  He’ll identify us.”

“Stealin’ from Dad is one thing, but this is murder.  You’re not my brother.  I don’t know you anymore.”  Spittle flew from his mouth.  “You’re dangerous.”

“Back off,” I said.

He grabbed my arm and moved close to my face.  Anger filled his eyes.  Curtis had never challenged me before.  Thing was, I suddenly realized he was right.  For the first time in my life I was going to listen to him.

“Go get Doc Hutchinson,” I said.  “Tell him to come quick.”

Curtis raced across the cemetery toward the truck.  The engine sputtered to life and the tires squealed on the pavement.

I jumped into the hole and opened the casket.  The Sheriff’s breathing was shallow.  “Hang on,” I said.  “Doc’s on his way.”

The sun was a perfect orange disk tingeing the surrounding clouds pink and purple.  I laid on the grass trying to figure out how Curtis and I were going to get out of this mess.  Then I realized what I had to do.  I planned on leaving anyway.  This seemed like the best time.

I jogged toward the road and was lost in thought when the sound of a car engine distracted me.  The cruiser pulled beside me and a deputy rolled down his window.  I recognized him from Dad’s funeral.

“Hey, Jake,” he said.  “Just got the weirdest call.  Something about the sheriff being hurt out by old man Fillmore’s grave.  Said you were here and would tell me all about it.”

I shook my head.  Curtis wasn’t as stupid as I thought.

The prison cell smelled of urine, sweat and stale tobacco.  I sat on the wooden bench and rested my head on the cement wall.

My dad’s lawyer, Jim Rawlins, opened the door.  “You gonna talk to me today?”

I shook my head.

“I can’t defend you if you won’t tell me what happened.  Grave robbing.  Attempted murder.  You know it looks bad, don’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

“Have it your way.  Charges have been dropped against Curtis ‘cause he’s willing to testify against you.  Said to add embezzlement to the list of things you did.  I’ve never seen him so angry.  What happened between the two of you out there?”

I shrugged.  Telling my story would just drag Curtis back into the mess and I wasn’t about to do that to my brother.  I’d serve my time and try to straighten out my life when I got out.  Maybe that’s what Dad had in mind after all.

“Heard a strange story on the way over here,” Rawlins said.  “Just before your father died, he called the Sheriff.  Told him he thought someone might be digging up Old Man Fillmore’s grave.  Told him to keep an eye out.”

I felt my jaw dropping.

“Least you don’t have to worry about any lawyer’s fees.  Your father left me a big brown envelope with $8,057.35 in it.  Said I should use it if you got into any trouble.”

“Always thinking, my old man.”

“One other thing.  Curtis is going to be running the funeral home and he won’t have any trouble keeping it going.  Your Dad left a trust fund of over four hundred thousand dollars with instructions that it be used only for the family business.  Any idea where he got that kind of money?”