Goat Parva Murders – Chapter 3

PC Roger Davis was in a wood with his binoculars but there wasn’t a young lady in sight. Instead, PC Davis was watching a young man, Todd Greggs, perform his early morning Tai Chi in Culpepper’s Woods. Greggs loved the feeling of nature and being free amongst the horse chestnuts and oaks. He worked in London and had to leave Goat Parva at 7:30am in order to catch the train to King’s Cross. Tai Chi was the perfect relaxing start to his otherwise hectic day at the stockbrokers.

PC Davis was fascinated by the precision of Greggs’ performance and by his athletic prowess in maintaining the poses for the necessary time. The policeman wished he could do those exercises himself as he needed to relax more. As he was contemplating perhaps joining a gym he was distracted by Greggs bending over and touching his toes effortlessly. His assailant chose this moment to strike, knocking Davis unconscious as Greggs headed back to his house on Sharrock Lane for breakfast.

For Bruno, you cruel bastard, thought the assailant, as they placed some acorns in Davis’ mouth, and clamped the mouth shut.


Mrs Hills dragged Bingo out of the house and put him on a lead. Their normal walking route around Doggett’s Field would still be blocked off by the police investigation so Mrs Hills thought they’d go through Culpepper’s Woods for a change – they hadn’t been through there in three months or more.

Once into the thick woods Mrs Hills let Bingo run free. Mrs Hills stopped for a rest against an ancient oak and saw Claude Avon taking a picture of a tree silhouetted against the sky. He was using a tripod with a long lens.

“Hello, Claude,” said Mrs Hills, “having fun?”

“Of course, Mrs Hills, I’m always having fun – the woods are quite thick here and I have to use a long lens to isolate just one tree’s branches against the sky.”

“My husband, Henry, was interested in photography before he died,” said Mrs Hills with tears welling up in her eyes, “he loved landscapes especially in Africa and the Sahara Desert – which is where he was killed.”

“I am sorry to hear that – how did it happen?”

“He was taking a picture of the sunset at the Merzouga Sand Sea and was concentrating on that so much that he failed to notice that the camel had stopped and was going down on its haunches to let us off – he fell off head first and hit a stone.”

“Oh look, Mrs Hills, your dog’s got something in its mouth.”


Mrs Hills looked and saw that Bingo was carrying a felt hat in his mouth.

Published by Julian Worker

Julian was born in Leicester, attended school in Yorkshire, and university in Liverpool. He has been to 94 countries and territories and intends to make the 100 when travel is easier. He writes travel books, murder / mysteries and absurd fiction. His sense of humour is distilled from The Marx Brothers, Monty Python, Fawlty Towers, and Midsomer Murders. His latest book is about a Buddhist cat who tries to help his squirrel friend fly further from a children's slide.

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