An unusual request

A SHORT STORY

It had started as a normal working day with the usual traffic in telephone and email requests that passed the time, however, by lunchtime, I was filled with intrigue:

Three plain clothed police officers had arrived in my office in late morning, presented their credentials and informed that I was bound by some legal duty to keep their meeting and mission in absolute confidence.

Satisfied that I would co-operate with them, they told me that an inmate of a prison had made what appeared to be a death-bed confession and indicated that a key part of the evidence was to be found in one of the cemeteries in my care. In my experience, the police are incapable of speaking in normal English and these three were no exception. They didn't elaborate on what the evidence might be but, being a would-be Sherlock Holmes for the moment, I immediately suspected "murder most foul". What better place to conceal a corpse than a council grave yard?

They asked numerous questions about the cemetery starting with confirmation of its physical address - 174 Paxton Avenue, and then they wanted to know about the people working there and particularly if any had suddenly left (which they hadn't).  The address seemed particularly important. They wanted me to provide the grave yard's full history: how long it had been in existence and what areas had been most recently developed and opened. As it happened, we had only a couple of years before asked a member of our staff to design a new garden for the internment of ashes. But I guess, because ashes aren't corpses, they didn't seem to think that relevant. They were though, interested in an area of older memorials in a particularly quiet part of the cemetery frequented by foxes. After my explanations and some discussion between themselves, they left, leaving behind the business card of the most senior of the group "just in case you think of something else". I added it to the rest that are stacked randomly in an old cigar box on my desk .

A few weeks later a Home Office archaeologist arrived, asked me similar questions about the cemetery at 174 Paxton Avenue and in particular seemed intrigued by the quaint combination of letters and numerals that divide the cemetery burial sections into plots and individual graves. Later he walked slowly around it paying particular attention it seemed, to the old, less visited sections and then left without any further comment. Inevitably in time the story was allowed to drift into local anecdotes of the history of Paxton Cemetery. There might be the victim of a murder interred there, but where's the news in that? It's a cemetery, isn't it?

Five or so years passed when the colleague who oversaw the daily running of all the cemeteries for me and, who co-incidently, had designed the new garden for the internment of ashes at Paxton Cemetery, unexpectedly stated that he wished to leave. I asked the usual questions as to why, and, having received all the answers expected, accepted his resignation. In due course he cleared his office in Paxton Cemetery and left.

About a month ago, we received a request from him for the right to purchase an ashes plot. There is nothing unusual in that as many people buy graves and ashes plots "in readiness", and given that he had spent many years working there, it also fitted that he would probably want his own ashes interred there. I duly handed the request over to the clerk who dealt with these requests and thought nothing more of it. 

This morning, the deeds having been prepared, the paperwork was returned to my desk for authorisation. It was then that I looked at the plot number he had requested. I reached for the cigar box of business cards.

And now, from my office window overlooking it, I can see that the cemetery gates are closed. There's a police car in the drive, another by the site office and a team of people in white overalls moving back and forth between other vehicles and a tent that they've erected over the now no longer "new" Ashes Garden and, I'm guessing, looking closer at plot number 174.