Who: Todd Warner and Robert McMahon. What: Cemetery visits. Where: Broadway and 155th. When: Monday afternoon.
New York City had its own fair share of cemeteries and if you knew where to look, you could find the rare brownstone grave that dated back to the 17th century. He knew where to look. Grander plots that housed mass graves and Civil War era graves and which were immaculately kept up or the smaller, neglected cemeteries in Queens and Brooklyn with tombstones that slowly crumbled away, he knew where to find them all. Marked or unmarked, Todd could find them all. And if he were of the sentimental sort, he would have bothered to mark them with a flower. But that was a travesty; flowers were dead from the moment you plucked or cut them; plastic flowers were even more of a travesty - just a pathetic semblance of life. And if he could have, Cyrus would have found his last resting place tucked away in the back of one the smallest, abandoned cemeteries he could knew of. No fuss, no glamour. Instead, he was tucked in neatly in a row, like soldiers in a last line of defense, and someone always showed up to place flowers. It wasn't him, so perhaps a friend or family member he couldn't quite name. Todd visited him with astounding regularity, but rarely saw the point anyway. Because Cyrus had moved on and that was ...
Okay. Sort of.
But it was okay. No freaky ghost whisperer 'I'm your husband's ghost and I jumped into a dying body' shit for him, thank you very much. Puffing on a cigarette, Todd suddenly doubled back, lightly touched a granite stone (Henry Brevoort, 1782-1848 - prevented 11th street from being built between Broadway and 4th Avenue) with his foot and barked in laughter that rang out over the cemetery when it was pointed out that he was 'touching history'. The Baron, an eccentric and easygoing sort of man himself, always found ways to amuse him. But that amusement faded when he caught someone standing a ways off, but too far for him to capture their chest rising up with each breath. Living or dead? That was the first question to come to mind on a place like this.