The Goat Parva Murders – 21

This excerpt is from the book entitled The Goat Parva Murders an English Murder Mystery book set in the countryside, starring two policemen who have been working together for a few years and get along really well. There’s lots of dialogue and banter with some humour thrown in amongst the murders and suspects.


Knowles and Barnes arrived at Clem Shapiro’s semi-detached house situated at one end of a row of four town houses. The garden was overgrown and full of garden gnomes and dwarves. A magnificent buddleia covered half of the front door and as Knowles approached several Red Admiral butterflies fluttered away into the evening air. Barnes went around the back of the house to effect an entry using the keys found on Clem’s body.


The back door was actually unlocked and Barnes opened the door gingerly; he’d once been bitten by a hungry dog whose owner hadn’t been home for three days but Shapiro obviously lived alone – the dishes were piled high in the sink and the fridge door was slightly ajar.


Barnes let Knowles in at the front door and then scampered upstairs. Knowles looked at the pictures on the mantelpiece and then empty bottles in a corner.


“Sir,” shouted Barnes from above, “you should come and see this.”


Knowles trudged up the stairs and round to the right. Barnes was holding a few photos and smiling ruefully.


“Danica Baker-Clements in all her magnificence, “ he handed the pictures to Knowles who nodded appreciatively.


“Better than I imagined from today’s encounter.”


“No wonder the postman was smiling.”


“I am surprised he could pedal his bike after two hours with…with her. Anyway, enough, enough of this lude innuendo – we’re only envious – have you see a camera that would have taken these pictures?”


“No – you’d need a long lens…”


“And a tripod. Wait till I see him.”


“Sir, there’s another couple of photos you should see.” Barnes handed over the images and waited for a reaction.


“That’s a strange picture – it’s of someone else watching Danica BC I would guess and she’s female – she looks familiar too. Sharrock Lane she lives on Sharrock Lane near the pub. Carol I think is her name. Oh, and what do we have here? Well, well PC Roger Davis in a wood somewhere with his binoculars and who’s this young lady – I don’t know her, unfortunately. We shall have to find out her name won’t we, Barnesy?”


“We will sir, but first I think we should have a beer or two and get some sleep.”


“Sounds like a plan sergeant, it’s your round isn’t it?”


“It’s always my round sir, it’s always my round.”

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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