A BURIED BODY 6.

Waking at dawn, an old confused man

Geoff Nolan and Amy Swinson were part of the SOCO team at Brumpton police station and had arrived at the Bingley house for one last look around, especially with regard to the shed and its heavy open door. They were both dressed in white overalls and neither of them felt particularly inspired because they’d already been to the address and were quite sure in their hearts that there wasn’t anything left to discover, even inside the shed where they were certain the buried man had slept before his death.

“What are you doing after work today?” asked Geoff, something he asked after every day he had teamed up with Amy at work, and he hopefully listened for a reply that wouldn’t be her usual going home.

“Going home, duckie,” she said, “You do try, don’t you?”

“Then you don’t fancy a few minutes with a glass of something delicious in the Brickmakers?” he asked.

“What, that dive?” she sniffed, “isn’t it the most famous house of ill repute since the one they called the House of the Rising Sun?”

“It was, but they’ve done it up and ladies of the night are no longer welcomed,”nor under-age youngsters intent on evil doings,” he told her, “and it’s quite plush, too plush for a place called Brickmakers!”

They reached the corner of the house where a path led down the side and made for the back garden.

“Hey, hasn’t somebody been down here?” asked Amy, indicating two house bricks. “These were in a two-brick pile when we left last time and now look at them, and one of them’s smashed!”

“Maybe a wild animal?” suggested Geoff.

“What? In the middle of a housing estate? I rather think not! Come on, keep those eyes of yours wide open, young Geoff.

“I like the young bit!”

He led the way slowly towards the excavation where they and two others SOCO officers had unearthed, carefully and with considerable skill, the body of Dominic Stokes, checking the ground for footmarks before they trod on it and keeping their eyes open for any sign that hadn’t been there before.

He arrived at the burial site first, and he pulled up sharp.

“There’s somebody in it!” he almost shouted, “an old guy: look!”

Amy knelt by the hole and gently, carefully, reached down for the exposed neck of the elderly Mr Bingley, who was lying there quite still.

“Quick, Geoff, get an ambulance!” she hissed, “he’s not dead! At least, hie’s got a pulse of sorts!”

“Move aside and let me see!” he replied, pushing her with the kind of vigour that could only have one outcome: Amy slipped and started sliding into a hole that had been quite shallow when old Mr Bingley had fallen into it.

“Just you be careful!” she shouted, “there might be evidence down here!”

“I’m sorry, Amy,” he stammered, “I don’t know my own strength.”

“There’ll be trouble if Doc Gloucester finds out!” she snapped.

“Hey you? Who do you think you are? Is that the milkman? Oh, you’re a ghost all in white!” croaked the figure she found herself landing on.

“I’m sorry… but what are you doing here?” asked Amy, steadying herself and pulling herself carefully upright and onto firmer ground.

“Someone’s been digging my garden for me. It must have been young Arnold? Do you know where he is? I saw him the other day, or was it the other week… I think it was him, in the home.”

“Your garden, sir?” asked Amy, “please tell me, what is your name?”

“You’re a pretty young thing now that I can see you clearly,” replied Adam Bingley, struggling to climb out of the hole, “And yu can call me sir. Or Adam. Yes, Adam might do.”

“We’ll get you taken to be checked over, sir, I’ve ordered an ambulance,” Geoff informed him.

“So you’re here, Arnold.” mumbled Adam “I don’t know what’s taken you so long. Did you get the sprouts?”

“I’m not Arnold,” the scene of crime officer said, trying not to sound too prim, “me and my colleague are here to finish checking out this grave nd to see if anything’s been left in the shed over there…”

“The shed, of course, the shed, I saw it last night, there wasn’t much moonlight but I did notice the door was open and that’s something that never happens. The shed door being left open like that. Then I ended up here. It was a lovely night so I took forty winks, waiting for the milkman to bring me my single cream. Why are you both dressed in white? You’re surely not ghostly spirits of the dead come to take me to heaven, are you?”

“We’re nothing of the kind, sir, just officers doing our duty, but listen: I can hear the ambulance. That’s nice, isn’t it? An ambulance to take you to be checked over in the hospital… now come along sir…” Geoff was obviously very keen to see the old man off his hands and into the ambulance.

A paramedic helped by escorting the staggering and confused old man to his ambulance, and then it was off.’

“Thank goodness for that,” breathed Amy, “As far as I could see it was Mr Bingley, the owner of the house, but what he was doing sleeping in a freshly dug grave I’ll never undersand.”

“Look, duckie, let’s get that shed checked over and report the incident of Rip Van Winkle to the DI when we get back to the station,” suggested Geoff, “If you’re up to it, that is.”

“Of course I am! Now come along Romeo, make sure that torch of yours has got good batteries, and let’s go, go, go!”

The two of them made their way past the grave that had once held the body of Arnold’s twin brother and to the shed. The door had blown shut and didn’t seem to want to be opened, and Geoff was about the suggest they left it because all they were likely to do was corrupt any evidence that might be on it when with one last tug he managed to pull it open.

Amy shone her own torch into the darkness of its interior and couldn’t help yelping out a little scream when she saw the dirty old sleeping bag in its corner, and the body lying on it.

It was an elderly man, and he looked very much as if he might be dead.

TO BE CONTINUED

© Peter Rogerson 02.10.24

xxx