Chapter Nine The Cemetery

CHAPTER NINE THE CEMETERY

Graceland Cemetery was enormous; almost one hundred and twenty acres of constructed landscape that had been growing since 1860. Now it was a Who’s Who of Chicago’s most important figures. We got the Falcone mausoleum’s location from the main office and chose the most direct route to the lake at the north end of the cemetery. It was bordered by clumps of shrubs and weeping trees. Along the edges, the water was dotted with elaborate stone mausoleums with plaques etched in bronze above them. Some of the names were familiar to me; that’s how I knew we were getting close. We stalled in criminal territory – between the Marinos and the Genoveses – and I pulled out the map again.

‘Crime really does pay,’ said Millie, releasing a low whistle. ‘The question is, which of these Mafia families would I have to marry into to get a sarcophagus?’

We stopped at the inked circle on the map and Millie pointed at something in the trees. ‘I bet it’s right on the lake. Prime cemetery real estate. Classic Falcone, eh?’

We made our way along the hidden path. When the branches of overgrown trees tapered away and the way widened, we found ourselves standing on the edge of the lake. There, secluded by the surrounding trees, and poised along the waterfront, was the Falcone mausoleum.

‘Holy crap,’ muttered Millie. ‘How many gangsters are in this thing?’

The mausoleum was a gargantuan structure made of unblemished white stone. On either side of the main chamber, decorative Roman columns marked a small square courtyard filled with hundreds of long-stemmed red roses.

Two weeping angels guarded the entrance to the mausoleum and above the double bronze doors, the Falcone crest had been erected. Thick block letters were etched into the stone:

CASA DI FALCONE

LA FAMIGLIA PRIMA DI TUTTO

We stood, dwarfed, in front of it.

I pulled the switchblade from my pocket. ‘Should I leave it on the steps?’

‘I guess.’ Millie frowned. ‘It could get stolen, though.’

‘We can’t break in,’ I said. ‘Look at those doors.’

She made her way up the steps and started jiggling the horseshoe handles. With a deafening groan, the door yielded, and she heaved it open, her mouth dropping into a perfect O as she swivelled to face me.

I sprinted up the steps. ‘Oh my God!’

‘We’re breaking in!’

‘We’re going to get in so much trouble!’

‘OK, wait.’ Millie composed herself. ‘Maybe you should go in first with the switchblade and put it somewhere. I’ll keep watch, then when you come out, we’ll swap, so I can see what it’s like inside.’

I was already slipping inside. My pulse was racing and I couldn’t wait any longer. The darkness was pulling me in.

Millie closed the door behind me. It thumped against the stone, sealing me off from the outside world. There was a sudden absence of warmth, and a staleness in the air. I felt peculiar, as though I was not only stepping into a tomb but into the past as well.