George called the main Sheriff�s Office in Astoria, spoke softly for about two minutes while Jerry watched the coffee pot begin to perk. George hung up, shuffled papers and then dialed again. This time Jerry made a point of listening.

�Yeah, Hans? You got the meat wagon tonight? Yeah? Well, you got a stiff to pick up before your shift ends. No, I�m not trying to be funny. No, I don�t give a damn whether you�ve eaten already or not. Get the ambulance up here to Stoney End.� A pause. The wind cranked up a couple of notches, just like in the movies. Seeing as how this was Clatsop county, the wind didn�t care if it was spooky or not. It just blew. Hard. �I dunno. Haven�t checked. You�d have to ask Jerry but he�s busy right now.�

Indeed, Jerry was very busy right then, trying hard to look completely wrapped up with making a report shine.

�Come on, Hans. Can�t you just� �

George sighed. �Okay, you win. I�ll meet you there. How�s that?�

George flinched. Apparently that wasn�t good enough. �Okay, okay. You don�t have to bring that up. I�ll drop by at the end of my shift, discover the body and give you a call then. Then I will wait dutifully for forty minutes while you drive here from Astoria. Very efficient.�

George hung up. Patted his own pockets for a cigarette before he remembered he didn�t smoke any more.

So, he sat back in his chair and attempted to put it all out of his mind.

Jerry wouldn�t let him. �Has anybody, ever -- and I do mean ever -- figured out exactly what�s going on with that place?�

George didn�t answer immediately. Instead, he sat forward and leaned on the desk, his left palm supporting his head, elbow on the table. He looked a little like Jack Benny doing that.

�No.� George didn�t say anything more for about a minute and then suddenly said, �No, and nobody really wants to know, if you ask me.�

�Don�t people warn��

�I�ve tried. Others have too. Doesn�t seem to make a damn bit of difference. Stoney End gets sold, somebody moves in and then eventually, that damn cross shows up again, and whoever owns the place needs to make sure his insurance is paid up. How long it takes before the owner keels over varies. But no one who�s bought the place ever leaves except via a hearse or an ambulance.�

�How long does it usually take?�

George shrugged and then thought about it. �This time was, what? Two years?�

�Yeah, something like that.�

�That�s about average, I think. One time it was three days. Now that was creepy.�

Neither spoke for a while, considering the infinite universe, the wind and possibly an early retirement. Jerry pulled out his cell phone and looked at the picture of nothing but a mossy hillside. He thumbed back through a week or so of photos and regarded that photo. It showed the same fern and mossy cut-section, but had a wooden cross front and center. There were wilted flowers festooning the arms and they more or less obscured the name and date.

Well, not the date, actually. That wasn�t there, yet. Oh, the birthday was visible and legible, which is why Jerry had taken that particular shot. The death date simply read 200 and no further.

Nobody was sure how long the death date would be visible, because the cross would disappear about that time.

As road-side memorial went it was, hopefully, unique.