Jeff hadn’t thought they built crypts any more, but his grandmother had managed to find one to be buried in. Her other demand was even stranger – that her estate go to whoever would spend the night down here after the funeral.
He was just dozing off when he heard the rapping. It sounded distinctly like a knuckle on wood. Jeff glanced at the door, but the sound was clearly coming from somewhere closer.
His grandmother’s coffin.
Trembling, Jeff approached the box. The knocking grew fiercer. He released the lid clasps.
“Ah, so you were the desperate one,” said his grandmother as she pushed the lid aside. “Now give me a hand out.”
Jeff manhandled the coffin off its shelf and helped the old woman out.
“You’re not dead.”
“Very observant. I’m faking my death. Don’t worry, you’re still getting your money. I just need some help getting out of here.”
“What makes you think I won’t tell everyone?”
“You’ve already proved you’ll do ridiculous things for money. If you still want that money, you’ll get me out of here.”