Body of Evidence

It never ceases to amaze me how adults can be so gullible.

When Geoffrey Catchpole was noticed doing his own shopping at the village store and explained that his wife had gone to Australia to visit her sister, everybody took him at his word.

Well, nearly everybody. Some  were sceptical about that explanation and suspected that she might have left him. I was among the doubters but for a different reason.

I sensed that he had actually done her in.

Now, I know that it is easy to dismiss the fanciful theories of a fourteen-year-old girl like me on the grounds that I am addicted to reading the novels of Agatha Christie,but I had obvious proofs that something sinister had occurred.

Our village is supposed to be a tranquil place, just like St Mary Mead, yet chicaneries happen there, as Miss Marple reminds us.

The only recorded incident of a local crime was the theft of a sport throphy stolen from the cricket pavilion as a students' prank but the revelation of what I saw would make the front page of the Whitehaven Gazette.

I never liked Geoff Catchpole. His eyes, too close together, gave one the impression that he could not be trusted.

I saw him one late night when, having read the last page of “Why Didn't They Ask Evans?”,  I switched the lights off and went to draw the curtains.

He was walking quite determined towards his allotment holding a big spade. I thought nothing of it at the time but a couple of hours later I was woken from my slumber by a low, grinding rumble on the cobbled street.

I peered through the windows and saw him pushing a wheelbarrow covered with a black tarpaulin.

It was evident that he was disposing of his wife's body. I would have to inform the village bobby as soon as the police station opened.

My original intentions were overridden early in the morning. The doorbell rang and my mother
opened the door.

“Good morning, Mr. Catchpole”, she said

“Good morning, Mrs. Goodenough”, he replied, “I have a barrowful of freshly dug potatoes; how many do you want?”

***

O.K. I was mistaken in my assumption. The proof that Mavis Catchpole was alive and well came when he was served with divorce papers a few weeks later.

© Luigi Pagano 2025