Mystery: Suspense: The Lazarus Phenomenon: : A Private Investigator Mystery Crime Thriller: (horror, thriller, science fiction, mystery, police, murder, ... (Marie Avalon Mystery Crime Series Book 1)

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The old Datsun glided through the graveyard like an angel of death. Its driver was a 36-year-old woman with long blonde hair swept back in a tight magenta bandana. The teenaged boy in the shotgun seat had his head bowed, fist pressed into his teeth. Too macho to cry, he wrestled Olympically with the tears. 

“It’s okay, buddy,” said the lady, clapping a firm hand on his knee. 

“I know.” He shrugged and lifted his head, emerald eyes still tinged the color of burgundy despite his efforts. 

They reached the end of the mausoleum’s driveway. The boy hopped out first, and stumbled in the tan dead grass. The woman slid out a perfect bouquet of holiday colored blossoms cradled in her arms. She looked up at the ceiling of the tomb and cracked an elated smile.

“Check it, Alex! They put up lights!” Her voice was hushed, enraptured.

The tiny white Christmas light bulbs twinkled like a wink from the angels. 

Alex sniffed, unable to force a laugh. With a shrug, he stumbled into the dim tomb. He didn’t look up as he ambled along. He’d memorized the path to his best friend’s marble plaque. 

His heart stopped when he did at last look up. 

“Renee!” His voice cracked. Vibrations of his piercing shriek echoed off the marble and glass-packed walls.

Renee flew to his side, face the color of an ashtray. Her eyes turned to globes when she saw what he had. 

A marble plaque that read “Nicolas Avalon 1998-2015” was lying on its side against the wall.  

“Oh God!” Renee sank to her knees, chewing her thumb to choke down vomit.

The tomb had been broken into.

* * *

The Durango Police Department flocked to the scene. The whole mausoleum was shrouded in yellow caution tape. Despite a rookie cop’s insistence, Renee and Alex were unwilling to leave. 

“He was family! Sort of…“ Renee thrashed as officers tried to force her from the scene. 

“You’re the foster home facilitator, right?” Police Chief Riggs grabbed the young officer by the shoulder, prompting her to wait. 

“That’s right. Renee Vierra.” She tossed her head defiantly. 

“Okay, she can stay.”

“The kid stays too. The boy they’ve grave robbed was his best friend.” Renee jutted out her chin, outraged. Alex stooped on the icy floor, lips turned purple more from shock than cold. The cop released Renee and she swooped to the kid, knelt beside him and protectively wrapped him in her arms. 

“It’s okay, Alex.” 

The forensic researchers arrived. Their voices were hushed as they peered into the tomb. Alex dug his fingers into the concrete floor until blood dripped from his nail beds. Renee gripped his shoulder to steady him. One of the forensics slid the coffin onto the floor. They were just checking for damage to it. Was this a robbery or a simple grave desecration? Who would want to desecrate the tomb of a 17-year-old boy? 

The coffin’s lid flapped loose on its hinges. They eased it open, with suspicious glances at Renee and Alex. The kid started to hyperventilate, despite all attempts to look chill. 

Silence pervaded. They stared into the coffin truly perplexed. It was empty. 

Forensic Officer Braxton’s face transformed to alabaster. He traced his finger along the lid of the coffin, eyes growing wider by the second. He took a cotton swab to the lace that lined the bottom and came away with blood. 

“The lid was pried loose by the toe of a male’s size 10 shoe driven into it. There are scratches that have traces of fingernail in the lid. The blood on the lace dripped from one of the gashes in the coffin’s ceiling. It’s 48 hours old tops.”  

The Police Chief pushed his way forward. 

“What the heck are you suggesting, Braxton?”

Braxton swallowed and looked apologetically at Renee and Alex. 

“This coffin, sir, was broken open from the inside.” Braxton’s lips had turned blue.

“Sir, that’s a load of bull. The coroner’s report for Nicolas Avalon just pulled up in the computer. The kid got iced in a hit and run 7 months ago.” An officer spat, thoroughly disgusted.

“Want proof, Rogers? Get me DNA samples!” Braxton’s menacing eyes flashed. His ferocity told them that this was not a joke or even incompetence.   

They slipped the droplet into a card and plugged it into the computer. Behold! A faded black and white photo of Nicolas appeared on the computer screen. 

“My God!” The Police Chief’s knees began to knock together. 

Rogers blanched. 

“So, this means…” She wrapped her mouth in a shaking palm. 

“Nicolas Avalon broke out of his tomb not more than 48 hours ago.” Braxton finished for her.

“Impossible!” said Officer Dawes. 

“Look around you! What else do you need, a neon sign?! Lazarus has come forth, ladies and gentlemen. How and why? That’s what we got to figure out. Everybody head back to the station. Double time.” Chief Riggs snapped his fingers, herding the spectators away from the scene.  

The emerald 69’ Mustang Mach 1 rolled into Durango down main-street. It was headed for Santa Bianca’s Children’s Home right outside the city limits. 

The Colorado dust swamped the sky. Like this were their Damascus road, the officers were blinded by the dust grit and were deafened by the roar of her engine. 

She flounced out of the cab. Her pumps dug into the dust. The tails of her leather trench coat caught in the winter’s gale and blew up to reveal her tie-dye skinny jeans. John Lennon-style shades veiled her eyes. 

Marilyn Avalon studied the lot of them, hands folded behind her back like a drill sergeant. They all waited for her to say ‘at ease’, but she never uttered the command. With a toss of her pinned-up dirt blonde hair, she did an about-face, headed for the porch.

“Is Renee Vierra where I can speak with her?” she asked the depressed blonde who leaned over the rails, a bottle of Coca-Cola pressed to her lips.

The blonde looked up and squared her jaw. 

“You’re looking at her?” 

“Hello, Ms. Vierra. We spoke on the phone?” Marilyn smiled. 

“Right. You’re the missing person’s private detective Dr. Swift was talking about.” Renee nodded, relieved to see her. 

“Heard you’ve got a kid on the loose?” 

“Ha! Yeah, that’s an understatement. Nicky’s a good kid, never hurt a fly, but he’s always been a bit of a handful. Likes to slip out the backdoor and hustle pool after curfew. Never thought I’d see the day when he’d break out of his own…His own umm…Well, his grave, ma’am.”

Avalon wondered if this might be a bad lip read. 

“His grave?” 

Renee laughed. 

“No, you heard right. Thought it’d be easier to break that part to you in person. Nicky…He got killed about 7 months ago walking home from school. It was a hit and run. Police were calling it a vehicular homicide.” She shrugged and took a shaky breath. 

“Going on 72 hours ago, he…The forensics seem to think he…uhh…Broke out. Like out of his coffin and the mausoleum we had him entombed in.”

Marilyn plucked her shades from her face, jaw dropped. 

“You mean, like your garden variety Lazarus?”      

“I had a hard time with it too, trust me. Losing him-Well, all of these kids are like my own, you know? You get attached to them. None more than Nicky. Honestly, I was in no frame of mind to hire you. No offense. But it’s gospel. The pediatrician that looks after all my wards recommended you.”

As if summoned, a tall, slender ginger appeared on the porch hands clasped in front of him, teeth set on edge.

“A word, Renee?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“It’s just, I’m worried about Alex. Think he might be bordering on catatonic. I’d like to have him committed until this all blows over.” The pediatrician smiled, knowing what he was saying sounded horrible.

“Oh God, no! He’ll kill me if I put him in the Psych Ward!” Renee gulped like she was trying to swallow a Globe. 

“There’s no shame in it. Only for a few days?” 

“Dr. Swift, I appreciate your concern. It’s just…I need my boy to be with me, okay?”

Swift held up a hand in mock surrender, a placid smile spread across his face. 

“Understood. But he’s bad off. I’d go so far as to say cracked, at least ‘til further notice. Rest him up, understand? Oh, and if Nicolas shows around sooner than later, ease Alex into it, alright?” 

“You got it!” Renee broke out in nervous giggles.

“Odd this. I’d bet my Grandad’s last dollar this is probably Lazarus Syndrome. Almost unheard of, and certainly never heard of after this long. Still is the only explanation I can figure.” Dr. Swift clutched his chin, eyes far off with trouble. 

“Lazarus syndrome?” said Marilyn. She wondered if there was a medical term for ‘everything and the kitchen sink’. 

The Doctor’s eyes lit up with ecstasy. 

“Oh, hello, you must be Detective Avalon! I’ve always wanted to meet you. Huge fan of your blog!” He rushed to her and shook both her hands.