For most people, death is usually the end of the road, the last stop on the train of life. After that is judgement and well, when you’re in the mob life, even you have gotta pay the devil his due. But Stan Bonachard isn’t like most people. All the times he was to be fit with a wooden overcoat, he sat right up, shook out his coat, and got back to work. Nobody knows just how he does it, nobody except his brother. But who’s going to ask a grave digger why his brother doesn’t seem to stay dead?