The Black Heart Crypt

All of Zack’s aunts—the great and, Francine, the not-so-great—were gathered in the kitchen.

Judy turned on the small TV in the breakfast nook to check out the eleven o’clock local news. “I wonder if they’ll have anything about whatever was going on up at the graveyard.”

Aunt Ginny arched an eyebrow. “The Haddam Hill Cemetery?”

“Yeah,” said Zack. “We saw a bunch of swirling police lights up that way when we were driving home.”

“Sisters?” said Aunt Hannah, sounding mad. “Family meeting. Outside. Now! And this time, Virginia, you will tell us the truth!”

Hannah, Sophie, Ginny, and their cats scampered out the back door to the deck.

“Excuse me,” said Aunt Francine, her voice groggy. “Might I trouble you people for a glass of water?”

“Of course,” said Judy. “Zack?”

“Got it.” He grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with tap water.

“Don’t you have bottled water?”

“Sorry,” said Zack.

“Never mind, then.” She fumbled in her jacket for a pack of cigarettes.

“Um, there’s no smoking allowed in this house,” said Judy.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve had a very difficult night.”

“Sorry.”

Aunt Francine fumed. It was very similar to the way Zack’s real mother used to fume. Zack figured fuming ran in the family.

“Who, exactly, are you again?” Aunt Francine said to Judy.

“She’s my mom,” said Zack.

“Was I talking to you, Zachary?”

Zack looked down at his shoes. “No.”

“I didn’t think so. So tell me, Judy, did George hide his son’s existence while you two were dating? Is that how he tricked you into becoming his stepmother?”

“Ms. Potter,” said Judy, “I love my son.”

“Really? Where is he? I’d love to meet him.”

Zack had heard enough. He looked Aunt Francine straight in the eyes. “How come you have to act this way?”

“What?”

“All mean and bitter and nasty.”

“How dare you speak to me like that! Children should be seen, not heard.”

“Says who?” asked Judy.

“Well, that’s certainly how my parents raised Susan and me. I see you and George have decided to take a more liberal approach.”

“I think you should leave,” said Judy. “Now.”

“What?”

“There’s a motel two miles up the highway. You shouldn’t drive back to Boston tonight, not in your condition. I’ll book you a room with our credit card.”

Aunt Francine stood up, fumbled again for her cigarettes. “I don’t even know why I came here. One minute I’m home dealing with beggars at my doorstep; the next I’m here with the smart-mouthed brat who killed my sister.”

Judy narrowed her eyes. “I’ll call the motel.”

“My, aren’t you congenial?” And with that, Aunt Francine stormed out of the house, furiously flicking her cigarette lighter the whole way.

“What a monster,” muttered Judy.

“Yeah,” said Zack with a smile. “But you know what, Mom?”

“What?”

“When it comes to slaying monsters, you and me make a pretty good team.”