Death Of A Dream Maker Read Online Free PDF Page B

in?” she whispered
loudly. The family shifted uneasily behind them.
    The rabbi coughed discreetly. “There seems to be a
slight problem with the lifting mechanism due to the rain. If you
would just consider this symbolic rather than integral to the
actual burial, I'm sure that would be just fine.” He handed a small
gold shovel to Auntie Lil.
    “Just do it,” T.S. hissed softly. “A lot of people
are waiting.”
    Auntie Lil sniffed regally, then tossed the rose on
top of the coffin as if she were playing horseshoes. It landed dead
center. She turned her attention to the grave. She removed her
glasses from her pocketbook, perched them on her nose, and handed
her huge purse to T.S. to hold. He looped it over his arm, feeling
ridiculous.
    Auntie Lil was oblivious to the stares of the other
mourners. She was peering anxiously over the lip of the grave.
    “Go on,” T.S. urged. “I've got hold of you. You're
not going to fall in.”
    “It's not that,” she whispered and took another step
forward.
    “Be careful,” T.S. said urgently. She was only half a
foot from the muddy edge of the grave and was leaning forward,
trying to get a better look down inside. “What are you doing?” he
asked, echoing the thoughts of those around him. Visions of Auntie
Lil throwing herself into her beloved's grave flashed alarmingly
through his mind.
    “There's something odd about the bottom of the
grave,” she said as loudly as a ballpark announcer.
    The rabbi coughed again. “Madam,” he said grimly.
“Take your turn or step aside.”
    Auntie Lil looked up at him. “There is something in
the bottom of the grave,” she insisted.
    A buzzing ran through the crowd.
    “Aunt Lil,” T.S. ordered sharply. Her outer calm had
been but a facade, he realized. She was deeply wounded by Max's
death. Perhaps she had finally snapped.
    Auntie Lil shook off his grip and took a tiny step
closer, then looked up at the crowd.
    “I am not imagining things,” she said loudly. “Look.
At the edge of the left side. The water's washed the mud down
toward the center and eroded the dirt. I'm telling you, there's
something sticking out. Something black.”
    T.S. exchanged a quick glance with the rabbi and they
stepped forward as one. “What?” the rabbi said unwillingly.
    “It's a body!” Auntie Lil shouted with an enthusiasm
that inventors save for their greatest discoveries. “There's a body
in the bottom of the grave. Look! It's a sleeve. And there's an arm
attached to it!”
    T.S. tried to move forward, but snagged Auntie Lil's
pocketbook on a rope anchoring a crucial tent pole. He pulled and
the canvas structure teetered ominously. A wave of collected water
showered off one side. The family looked up at the roof nervously.
Only Max's widow ignored the commotion as she rose from her
seat.
    “A body?” she said in a tiny voice. She took a step
forward toward the grave, then stopped to look back at the empty
chair at one end of the family semicircle.
    “Aunt Lil,” T.S. repeated hopelessly as he struggled
to untangle the pocketbook's straps from the tent roping.
    “There's a body down there,” Auntie Lil insisted,
pointing toward the center of the grave as if she were God casting
Lucifer from the heavens.
    The widow scurried forward and clutched at Auntie
Lil. The rest of the family seemed frozen.
    “Right there.” Auntie Lil took the widow's arm and
they peered together over the edge. “See, it's black fabric. A silk
blend, if I'm not mistaken. And a custommade shirt from the look of
the cuffs.”
    “Aunt Lil,” T.S. muttered hopelessly, finally freeing
Aunti Lil’s pocketbook. He dragged his aunt back from the edge of
the grave. “What do you think you're doing?”
    “Davy!” The widow suddenly shrieked. “Look at the
watch! It's Davy!” She stepped perilously close to the edge of the
grave and gazed down below, teetering uncertainly on her spiked
heels.
    The family began to whisper excitedly and appealed to
the rabbi with