Among the Darkness Stirs - Page 113

“Cremations.” She said the word slowly. “That means there is no body to dig up.”

“Exactly.”

“No evidence,” she said quietly.

He gave her a look. “And if they were transported to London for cremation, no one would remember if they were or were not there. Clever.”

They spent the next hour looking up several names and discovered the same thing. The cause of death was the same and all of the inmates had been cremated.

Henry spotted something. “Here! Look at this!”

Audrey shifted closer so she could see. “What is it?”

“This person had a burial here in Norwich. At St. Andrew’s.” He tapped the entry.

“St. Andrew’s? Do you know it?” she asked.

“It’s Church of England. I think we should go and visit it and ask the vicar some questions. What do you say?” Henry asked.

“I say lead the way.”

A light rain had fallen upon the ground. Mist surrounded the church as they walked towards it.

“It’s quite old-looking,” she remarked as the dark Gothic-style church came into view.

“At least three-hundred-plus years old, maybe more.” He nodded. “It was one of the last medieval churches to be built in the city.”

They walked into the hall church, but no one was about.

“Hello?” he called out, but no one answered him.

“No one is here,” Audrey said, looking down the long building at the pews and altar.

Together they walked through the large church until they came out the side door. Outside, it was damp and overcast. There was a small overgrown cemetery adjacent to the church. A man was inside the gated area, bending over a grave.

“Hello!” Audrey called out to him.

The man started. “Oh! You gave me such a shock!” the man said, dressed in a simple dark suit with a collar that indicated he was the vicar.

“I apologize. We’re looking for the vicar,” she said as Henry came into view.

“Want to be married, do you?” he asked kindly. Henry grinned as Audrey looked back at him. “I like to tend the graves. Many of their loved ones are long gone, so I try to remember them in my way,” he explained as he pulled out another weed along one old tombstone.

“Very decent of you,” Audrey said.

He brushed the dirt from his knees and came towards them. “I’m Bruce Tanner. Vicar of St. Andrew’s. Marriage, is it?”

“Not today.” Henry stepped forward. “My name is Henry Ryland. This is Audrey Wakefield. We wanted to ask you some questions about someone you might have buried some time ago.”

Bruce blinked at the words. “A burial some time ago? Hmmm. What is the name?” When Henry gave him the name, Bruce frowned. “When was he buried?”

Henry gave him the date. “He wasn’t buried. There was a service here for him and then he was cremated.”

Bruce shook his head. “No. You must have the wrong church.”

“I’ve been to the register’s office. That was the information I was given.”

“With that date?” he asked.

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