what’s available. No obligation.”
“Maybe some other time—I have another appointment here in the cemetery,” I said. “What exactly did you see on the night of the fire, Burt?”
With a voice as thick as hardening epoxy, Burt the evictions specialist said, “I like to walk the cemetery grounds at night. Clears my head.”
I didn’t know how much Burt had in his head that needed clearing. “You mean, like a security guard? Does Greenlawn pay you for that?” Maybe I could get a job application for Bill the golem.
“Neighborhood watch,” Burt said as we stepped outside the office crypt. “I like fire, and I wasn’t far from the theater stage when I noticed the first flames. I saw who lit it, but he vanished before I could catch him.”
“Burt doesn’t usually let people get away,” said Edgar Allan. “Special circumstances.”
“Can you tell me what he looked like?”
“He was a ghost,” Burt said, then proceeded to describe William Shakespeare in perfect detail.
On the other side of the Greenlawn Cemetery—in a large expansion area marked as the site of future graves, complete with a sign saying DON’T WAIT! GET YOURS NOW!—I saw the mostly rebuilt theater stage, with construction teams, a couple of golems and zombies with work belts and hammers, hauling two-by-fours or sheets of plywood while ghostly actors directed the operations. A large new sound system boasting tall speakers added a more modern touch to the mockup of the Globe Theatre.
Burt pointed. “There’s the guy right now. Don’t know why he’s rebuilding the whole stage when he burned it down in the first place.”
I was sad but not surprised, since all the clues had been pointing to that answer, but I still didn’t understand why. “Thanks, Burt. I needed to have a talk with him anyway.”
Edgar Allan scuttled out from the crypt door and gave me something. “Could you hand him my card, if you find a way to slip it into the conversation?”
Shakespeare didn’t see me coming. When two of the spectral actors called him over, and he saw the look on my face, he knew, but by that time he couldn’t avoid me without fleeing in panic. He probably guessed what I was going to say before I spoke a word. The ghost paled, turned more translucent, but at least he didn’t vanish out of existence, though he plainly wanted to.
For the time being, I kept my voice down so the other actors didn’t hear. “I know you’re responsible for the arson, Mr. Shakespeare. A witness saw you light the fire, and I have pawnshop records showing that you sold the theatrical props that you claimed were lost in the blaze.”
“Oh.” He sounded embarrassed. “Are you sure we can’t pin this on some of Senator Balfour’s crazies? Or even leftovers from the Straight Edge movement?”
“No, Mr. Shakespeare. It was you.”
He let out a long sigh. “You cannot blame me for trying. Given the uproar about the Unnatural Acts Act, I was hoping to ride on that publicity, smear a little more mud on some bad people who deserve it.”
“I agree they deserve it, but they’ve done enough genuinely despicable things—we don’t need to make up additional ones. You hired me to solve the crime of arson, and I did.” I couldn’t keep the annoyance out of my tone. “I expect our bill to be paid in full.”
“Are you going to turn me in to the police?” he asked. “That would ruin us—and our big comeback performance is in two nights. Please let me explain first.”
“I’m listening, but your words may fall on dead ears.”
“I did it to attract attention to our plight, to generate larger audiences. The real crime, Mr. Chambeaux, is that unnaturals no longer appreciate the works of Shakespeare. Since the fire, though, we’ve received so much sympathy. Patrons have opened their purses, and donations flowed in more than ever before. And with the insurance money—”
I cut him off right there. “There’s not going to be any insurance money. If you burned the stage down yourself, that would be insurance fraud. You’ll withdraw your claim immediately.”
“Oh, you’re absolutely right—I’m forgetting about modern law. But there’s been no fraud committed, yet. I, uh, tarried overlong in filing the insurance claims. Those forms are so complicated, and I’ve been too busy and distracted.” He waved his hands to indicate the stage set. “This effort requires the fullness of my attention, not simply the stage, the wardrobe, and that complicated new sound system, but also the casting, the rehearsals, the temperamental