Anna’s father phoned. “Anna, Uncle Pete will be buried on the 24th at 10.00am. I hope you’ll be there.”
“Yes Dad, I will be there. How are you bearing up?”
“I’m fine; it’s you I’m worried about,” Mr. Short replied.
“I’m better now. The break has helped and I can see things clearly again. See you there, got to go, bye.” She closed the call, not wanting to say something foolish.
“Max, we know the funeral date, 24th at 10.00am. I need to get on with disposing of the body.”
“That means the hole will be dug the day before. I will drive over and check out the cemetery. I think we can pop the girl in the same hole as Uncle Pete.”
“Oh! That would be great. Anna would love it. She was so fond of him. How clever of you to think of that.”
It was not a remark Max had expected. “Star can be very odd at times,” he thought. “Occasionally she appears to have lost touch with reality.”
Max borrowed the scooter and visited the cemetery. Someone’s funeral was about to start, so Max joined the mourners to get a closer look. The earth mound and sides of the excavation were covered with artificial grass (greens). A chrome rectangular frame of round tubing was placed around the hole with fabric straps pulled tight from long side to long side. The coffin was lowered onto the straps. The straps unwound slowly, lowering the coffin to the bottom. Some people picked up earth and threw it on the coffin. Max did the same, so that he could look down into the hole.
A brief mental calculation showed a flaw in his plan. With the thickness of the body and a good layer of earth cover, the grave would be noticeably too shallow. “Damn it!” he thought. “I will have to dig down a lot further, put the body in that hole and backfill to the original depth.” There was always the risk someone would go down into the hole and step on the part with a squidgy body under it. A spade accidentally dropped, greens slipped in or a small cave-in would be all it took to destroy their plans.
On his way back to the bedsit, Max reviewed the facts, questioning every part of the plan, to uncover weaknesses and come up with answers.
Star made a phone call to a Man & Van business advertised in the local free paper. They could collect the ottoman at 3.00pm and take it to the storage unit. She could accompany them and they would drop her back afterwards. She agreed to this, because it was so convenient.
Dressing quickly as Anna, Star updated Max by phone and returned to the flat. The lounge smelt of furniture polish, and bedroom two had a faint odor that could easily be passed off as stale air. She dismissed it as nothing to worry about.
The girl’s legs had relaxed. They were draped over the side of the ottoman and not stuck up at 45 degrees, which indicated rigor had passed. The gases from the body had puffed the polythene wrapping significantly. Forcing the legs into the box was being hampered by this swelling, so Star pierced the layers by stabbing in several places. The stench hit her, causing her to swing away and vomit on the floor. The warmth of the ambient air at this time of year had speeded up the decomposition process.
Star phoned Max for advice.
“Sorry, I should have warned you about that. All you can do it squeeze out as much gas as possible and reseal the holes with tape. Open all your windows to get rid of the smell and get the furniture polish out again.”
“Thanks Max. I’ll keep you posted.”
After folding Anna into the box and re-sealing the pierced wrapping, she had to fit the ottoman into its own box.
Star placed two small hand towels on the ground and lifted the ottoman feet onto them. She could now push the box across the hardwood floor, into the lounge, re-fit the cardboard packing and tape it all together.
The windows were opened fully, the bathroom and kitchen extract fans were running and liberal polish was applied to the floor, particularly where she had cleaned up her vomit. Now it was just a matter of waiting for the Man & Van.
Because Star had grown accustomed to the greatly diluted odor, she thought it had gone, but it was obvious that the two men and the security guard Ted noticed it. “I had a bad stomach,” she confessed, hinting at the open toilet door. “I vomited. Really sorry about the smell.” She closed the bathroom door as a gesture to make things better.
“The box is heavy, there are books in it.” Star explained, pre-empting questions about the weight.
The men used a trolley and as they lifted the box on its end, the body inside could be heard sliding to the bottom end.
“Don’t worry about the books, there is nothing that can be damaged,” assured Star. “It’s only old university study books, nothing valuable.”
The trip to the store and back was uneventful. Star prayed the gassing of the body would be contained within the polythene wraps until Max could bury it.