Open Writing

Hello, police, there’s something at the bottom of my garden....

*

“What was it?”

“I asked her that Sarg, then I asked her to describe it, but whether it was because she was anxious, or in a hurry or what I don’t know. She started getting hysterical, hostile in fact. I didn’t get the chance to ask her any more questions. I tried to calm her down but it was as though she wasn’t listening to a word I was saying.

“Did you get her name and address?”

“No Sarg. I’ve got her phone number, I tried to ring her back but, all I got was the busy signal. Come to think of it Sarg, I don’t think she hung up on me. It sounded like she’d dropped the hand set. I kept the line open for a minute or so expecting her to come back to the phone. I had to hang up in the end. Do you think we should send an officer to check it out. Telecom came back to us with the address. I know there’s a chance she could ring back, but I can’t settle, there was something in the sound of her voice, it’s got me worried Sarg.”

“We’re already short handed constable, blue watch comes on at fourteen hundred, log it for their attention.” The sergeant said.

“Is there nothing we can do Sarg?

“It’s probably all about nothing. You shouldn’t let callers get to you like this. You’ve followed procedure, the call’s logged.” The duty sergeant paused for a moment. “How long would it take you to get there and back?”

“According to this the house is just behind the cemetery.” The constable advised. “If I take the van I should be there and back within twenty minutes.”

“Go on then,” the Sergeant agreed. “But make it quick.”

Constable Bell knew better than to hang about once he’d been given an order. Especially a favourable one. He reached over the Sergeant’s shoulder and grabbed the keys for the police van from the cabinet, and was into the car park before the Sergeant could take a second breath.

Constable Bell had completed his probationary period on
the police force a year ago, and at the end of today’s shift, he would have served his first full year of service as a fully fledged police constable.

The avenue he turned into reminded him of the town where he went to school. The people he drove past were so like the neighbours he grew up with, even to the little white wire haired terrier, that yelped constantly as it jumped up and down behind the gate.

Constable Bell was sure he could feel eyes on him as curiosity turned heads to follow the police van en route.

When the Constable was unable to raise an answer, he decided to go down the side path to the back of the house and was in the process of doing so when the front door opened.

“Aye! What’s the problem officer?” A middle aged man, wearing a soiled vest and a pair of track pants splashed with paint asked was holding onto a partially-opened door.

“I’m responding to the call made earlier,'' Constaqble Bell informed him. “About something at the bottom of your garden.”

Still holding onto the door the man shouted into the house “Allison! Did you phone the police this morning?”

A high pitched denial penetrated down the hall. “No not me luvvy.”

“No way officer, not here.”

“This is number fourteen?” The constable asked.

“Aye, it’s fourteen right enough.”

“Is there anybody else in the house that might have made the call?”

“No.”

“Do you mind if I take a look at the bottom of the garden? So I can say I checked it out in my report.”

“Look all you want, I’m going to watch the match,” the man said, closing the door.

Constable Bell made his way down the side of the house. The garden was well tended and presented a huge variety of flowers. There was a freshly tilled, weed free, vegetable patch between the end of the lawn and the cemetery wall.

*

“I’m telling you Sarg, the woman in that house is not the woman who was on the phone earlier,” Constable Bell insisted. "They are hiding something.''

The Sergeant leaned back in his chair, “What am I gonna do with you eh? Why can’t you just deal with what’s in front of you instead of trying to turn everything into a mystery. It could have been a crank call for all you know. There’s nothing to suggest any further follow up, so let it go.”

“I went down to the bottom of the garden Sarg,” the constable said. “There was nothing to see except freshly dug soil. It seems to me that what ever was there has been shifted and any traces of it removed. Or they’ve buried it.”

“I’ll answer the telephone constable. You go and make the coffee,” said the Sergeant. “Good afternoon can I…”

“Hello police, there’s something at the bottom of my garden that…”

“Excuse me madam, did you make this same call earlier today?”

“Well I started to,” the caller said, “but my lift came early so I had to dash off. He’ll not wait you see.”

“So what’s it all about? The Sergeant asked.”

“Well, I’ve cleared all my beautiful roses out of the bottom of my garden and I would like to offer them to the police college for their grounds. I thought they would appreciate them seeing as the roses are called Agatha Christie.”

“I’m sure they would madam.”

“Then could you make arrangements for them to be collected and delivered to the college?” the caller asked. “I had them stored in my garage but I’ll have father put them at the bottom of my garden.”

“I’ll have one of my officers there within the hour madam.” the Sergeant promised.

Putting down the phone the Sergeant yelled "Constable!''