When a body meets a body

WHEN A BODY MEETS A BODY

Chief Inspector Sam Trotter was settled in his favourite chair beside a roaring log fire. He took another long, luxuriating draw at his meerschaum clay pipe and allowed his dressing gown to slip further down his shoulder. For the tenth time that evening he read through the file on Gavin Rice - a serial killer who had so cleverly concealed the bodies of his victims that no prosecution would have much chance of success. He was in deep thought when his concentration was broken by the shrill voice of Betty the Barmaid;

“Sam Trotter! How many times have I told you there’s NO SMOKING in this establishment, and while we’re at it DON’T dress like that in here, it’s disgusting!” and in a loud aside to the other patrons “He’s called Trotter the Nutter.“ Sam gave the girl one of his well-practised stern looks, to no avail, as Betty stared him out with contempt. He adjusted the dressing gown, knocked the pipe out on the fireplace, pulled on his overcoat and headed for home.

Ten minutes later he pushed open the front door to be greeted by his bloodhound, Watson.

Betty’s voice again grated in his ear.” and stop going home and leaving your bloody dog here!” Watson nearly choked on his lead in the rush to escape. Sam decided to take a different way home, through the woods where the old church had once stood, so the pair wandered off in the last of the dying light as the sun set. Watson sniffed along the edge of the track but stopped in mid-sniff as his cold, wet nose touched the cold, wet, boney hand sticking out of the ground where recent heavy rains had washed some soil away.

By 9am the following morning the forensic teams were in place, tents had been erected and the area cordoned off. Three JCB diggers and five small dump trucks were working flat out and the bodies kept appearing. Sam Trotter lit his pipe and contemplated his next promotion, but was distracted by an altercation at the tents. He was beckoned over by the constable at the scene, who appeared to have great difficulty in keeping a straight face. “The vicar here, sir” choked the young constable, “Well, like he says he is.” waving his hand at a very angry dark-suited man who looked as though he might explode. “He wants to know who gave you permission to dig up the old cemetery……..”