Goat Parva Murders

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.

==========

The stalker trained his binoculars on the ground floor lounge window where Danica Baker-Clements could be seen in her underwear watching TV. Danica’s blonde hair tumbled over artificially brown shoulders and the rhododendron branches twitched as the binoculars moved slowly over her complete loveliness. An owl screeched in the trees behind the stalker – the bird was catching mice in Doggett’s Field near the Baker-Clements’ house and had been disturbed. The warm night air was filled with the scent of honeysuckle.

The stalker was anticipating Mrs Baker-Clements removing her clothes during the evening as was the custom on Tuesdays and so intent was he on sharing every moment with her that he failed to hear the slight footfalls behind him. Danica Baker-Clements began to unhook her bra and the stalker’s breathing increased in intensity.

As the bra fell aside the stone hit the stalker’s skull rendering him unconscious instantly. He fell forward into the bush and then slumped to the ground, his glassy eyes surveying the lounge window but this time without binoculars. The assailant picked a bloom, placed it in the stalker’s mouth, and clamped the mouth shut.

For Rosemary, thought the assailant, the fight back begins.

Two minutes later Tim Armstrong cycled down the Baker-Clements’ drive and parked his bike out of sight behind the greenhouse. He was on time. He kept to the shadows created by the strong moonlight and soon knocked on the dining room window. Mrs Baker-Clements smiled, removed her last item of clothing, and headed to the window. They were seen only by a pair of lifeless eyes.

Manton Rempville – 5

This is my second homage to the detective story. I’ve always loved mystery stories by Agatha Christie, Ngaio Marsh, and Dorothy L Sayers. I watched many DVDs of detective series from the UK and this was the spark to start the creative process. I have tried to add some humour into the book. The Manton Rempville Murders is the second in the Inspector Knowles Mysteries and reacquaints the reader with Knowles and his Detective Sergeant Rod Barnes, who were first introduced in The Goat Parva Murders.

==========   

“Something like that, yes, and don’t forget that Sir Michael Johnson, who owns Manton Rempville Hall, is a personal friend of the Chief Constable, and any complaints will go straight to that level.”

            “Thank you for the warning, Doctor Crabtree, I will bear what you say in mind, but I do have to find a murderer after all and that’s the main aim of my investigation. Now, do you have a nice picture of the sword that I can show to the people at the hall, preferably one that doesn’t show it sticking into Mr Edward Morgan? That would be quite tasteless, wouldn’t it Sergeant?”

            “It would indeed, sir, because we do need those people to be able to easily identify the sword and not have their recall impaired by seeing a dead body.”

            “We have a nice picture here, Colin, which people will enjoy looking at.”

            “Thanks, Doctor Crabtree, my compliments to the photographer.”

            With that, Knowles and Barnes left the lab and headed over to Manton Rempville Hall in Barnes’ sleek white Morgan, which Knowles thought would impress the upper-class individuals they were about to meet.

========

Chapter 2 – Monday, 11:30am

                   Barnes drove his Morgan down the carefully manicured driveway of Manton Rempville Hall, while Knowles stared at the yew hedges, which had been sheared into interesting shapes that he couldn’t quite recognise. After they’d parked, Knowles walked over to one of the hedges and pointed.

            “What do you think they’re supposed to be, Barnesy, these shapes?”

            Barnes looked at Knowles, who was moving his head around to try and get the right angle for a correct identification of the topiary.

            “Well, Inspector, isn’t that one a mouse and this one here a hedgehog?”

            “It could be a hedgehog I suppose, but I thought it might be a crouching lion – you see there’s the mane and that’s definitely a tail…”

            “Excuse me, this is private property,” said a very posh female voice, “if you don’t leave I will call the police.”

            “Well, there’s no need, because we are already here, madam,” said Knowles brandishing his identification card in the lady’s face, “I am Detective Inspector Colin Knowles and this is Detective Sergeant Rod Barnes. We are here to ask you and your family about the death that occurred in the grounds of the monastery earlier today.”

            “Death, you say, is that why there were all those sirens keeping us awake at some ungodly hour?”

            “Those sirens were the ambulance and police cars rushing to the scene of a murder. I am sorry, but I don’t know your name.”

            “The impertinence – I am Lady Bunny Johnson, if you must know, and why do those people put on their sirens when the murdered person is already dead and there’s no reason to rush?”

            “Thank you, Lady Johnson, I do need to know your name and there is always a reason to rush to a murder scene as vital evidence can easily be lost if the police aren’t on the scene as soon as possible.”

            “Really – it doesn’t seem necessary to me; perhaps they could put them on just in the afternoons?”

            “We’ll see about that; anyway, how many people do you have in the hall at the moment – I would like to interview them all, please.”

            “I’ll ask the butler, Fairfax, to gather the staff together in the lower library for you.”

            “I would like to interview everyone in the house, staff, family, and house guests, if there are any of course.”

            “You surely can’t believe that any members of the family, my family, would be involved in anything as sordid as a murder?”

            “The murder was committed on a property adjacent to this hall, last night, so I would like to eliminate every person in this hall from my enquiries as soon as possible. So, Lady Johnson, if you please can you gather everyone in the library…”

            “Which one, we have two?”

            “…please gather everyone in the lower library in fifteen minutes from now, so Sergeant Barnes and I can find out where everyone was last night.”

            “I’ll ask Fairfax to gather the family and then he can go and get Wilkinson and Jenkins. I will ask Miss Newton to rouse everyone in The Coach House.”

With that Lady Johnson had gone.

“I presume that’s The Coach House over there,” said Barnes pointing to a two-storey brick building behind some topiary bushes.

As if on cue, a youngish maid wearing an apron dashed out of the front door of the hall and headed in the direction of the building.

“That must be Miss Newton doing as she has been bid by her boss,” growled Knowles, “and I wonder who Wilkinson and Jenkins are?”

Bio: I am a writer. I love writing mysteries and thrillers, especially on topics close to my heart. A list of my books, both about travel and other subjects, can be found here.

Goat Parva Murders

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.

==========

The stalker trained his binoculars on the ground floor lounge window where Danica Baker-Clements could be seen in her underwear watching TV. Danica’s blonde hair tumbled over artificially brown shoulders and the rhododendron branches twitched as the binoculars moved slowly over her complete loveliness. An owl screeched in the trees behind the stalker – the bird was catching mice in Doggett’s Field near the Baker-Clements’ house and had been disturbed. The warm night air was filled with the scent of honeysuckle.

The stalker was anticipating Mrs Baker-Clements removing her clothes during the evening as was the custom on Tuesdays and so intent was he on sharing every moment with her that he failed to hear the slight footfalls behind him. Danica Baker-Clements began to unhook her bra and the stalker’s breathing increased in intensity.

As the bra fell aside the stone hit the stalker’s skull rendering him unconscious instantly. He fell forward into the bush and then slumped to the ground, his glassy eyes surveying the lounge window but this time without binoculars. The assailant picked a bloom, placed it in the stalker’s mouth, and clamped the mouth shut.

For Rosemary, thought the assailant, the fight back begins.

Two minutes later Tim Armstrong cycled down the Baker-Clements’ drive and parked his bike out of sight behind the greenhouse. He was on time. He kept to the shadows created by the strong moonlight and soon knocked on the dining room window. Mrs Baker-Clements smiled, removed her last item of clothing, and headed to the window. They were seen only by a pair of lifeless eyes.

Manton Rempville – 5

This is my second homage to the detective story. I’ve always loved mystery stories by Agatha Christie, Ngaio Marsh, and Dorothy L Sayers. I watched many DVDs of detective series from the UK and this was the spark to start the creative process. I have tried to add some humour into the book. The Manton Rempville Murders is the second in the Inspector Knowles Mysteries and reacquaints the reader with Knowles and his Detective Sergeant Rod Barnes, who were first introduced in The Goat Parva Murders.

==========   

“Something like that, yes, and don’t forget that Sir Michael Johnson, who owns Manton Rempville Hall, is a personal friend of the Chief Constable, and any complaints will go straight to that level.”

            “Thank you for the warning, Doctor Crabtree, I will bear what you say in mind, but I do have to find a murderer after all and that’s the main aim of my investigation. Now, do you have a nice picture of the sword that I can show to the people at the hall, preferably one that doesn’t show it sticking into Mr Edward Morgan? That would be quite tasteless, wouldn’t it Sergeant?”

            “It would indeed, sir, because we do need those people to be able to easily identify the sword and not have their recall impaired by seeing a dead body.”

            “We have a nice picture here, Colin, which people will enjoy looking at.”

            “Thanks, Doctor Crabtree, my compliments to the photographer.”

            With that, Knowles and Barnes left the lab and headed over to Manton Rempville Hall in Barnes’ sleek white Morgan, which Knowles thought would impress the upper-class individuals they were about to meet.

========

Chapter 2 – Monday, 11:30am

                   Barnes drove his Morgan down the carefully manicured driveway of Manton Rempville Hall, while Knowles stared at the yew hedges, which had been sheared into interesting shapes that he couldn’t quite recognise. After they’d parked, Knowles walked over to one of the hedges and pointed.

            “What do you think they’re supposed to be, Barnesy, these shapes?”

            Barnes looked at Knowles, who was moving his head around to try and get the right angle for a correct identification of the topiary.

            “Well, Inspector, isn’t that one a mouse and this one here a hedgehog?”

            “It could be a hedgehog I suppose, but I thought it might be a crouching lion – you see there’s the mane and that’s definitely a tail…”

            “Excuse me, this is private property,” said a very posh female voice, “if you don’t leave I will call the police.”

            “Well, there’s no need, because we are already here, madam,” said Knowles brandishing his identification card in the lady’s face, “I am Detective Inspector Colin Knowles and this is Detective Sergeant Rod Barnes. We are here to ask you and your family about the death that occurred in the grounds of the monastery earlier today.”

            “Death, you say, is that why there were all those sirens keeping us awake at some ungodly hour?”

            “Those sirens were the ambulance and police cars rushing to the scene of a murder. I am sorry, but I don’t know your name.”

            “The impertinence – I am Lady Bunny Johnson, if you must know, and why do those people put on their sirens when the murdered person is already dead and there’s no reason to rush?”

            “Thank you, Lady Johnson, I do need to know your name and there is always a reason to rush to a murder scene as vital evidence can easily be lost if the police aren’t on the scene as soon as possible.”

            “Really – it doesn’t seem necessary to me; perhaps they could put them on just in the afternoons?”

            “We’ll see about that; anyway, how many people do you have in the hall at the moment – I would like to interview them all, please.”

            “I’ll ask the butler, Fairfax, to gather the staff together in the lower library for you.”

            “I would like to interview everyone in the house, staff, family, and house guests, if there are any of course.”

            “You surely can’t believe that any members of the family, my family, would be involved in anything as sordid as a murder?”

            “The murder was committed on a property adjacent to this hall, last night, so I would like to eliminate every person in this hall from my enquiries as soon as possible. So, Lady Johnson, if you please can you gather everyone in the library…”

            “Which one, we have two?”

            “…please gather everyone in the lower library in fifteen minutes from now, so Sergeant Barnes and I can find out where everyone was last night.”

            “I’ll ask Fairfax to gather the family and then he can go and get Wilkinson and Jenkins. I will ask Miss Newton to rouse everyone in The Coach House.”

With that Lady Johnson had gone.

“I presume that’s The Coach House over there,” said Barnes pointing to a two-storey brick building behind some topiary bushes.

As if on cue, a youngish maid wearing an apron dashed out of the front door of the hall and headed in the direction of the building.

“That must be Miss Newton doing as she has been bid by her boss,” growled Knowles, “and I wonder who Wilkinson and Jenkins are?”

Bio: I am a writer. I love writing mysteries and thrillers, especially on topics close to my heart. A list of my books, both about travel and other subjects, can be found here.

Manton Rempville – 5

This is my second homage to the detective story. I’ve always loved mystery stories by Agatha Christie, Ngaio Marsh, and Dorothy L Sayers. I watched many DVDs of detective series from the UK and this was the spark to start the creative process. I have tried to add some humour into the book. The Manton Rempville Murders is the second in the Inspector Knowles Mysteries and reacquaints the reader with Knowles and his Detective Sergeant Rod Barnes, who were first introduced in The Goat Parva Murders.

==========   

“Something like that, yes, and don’t forget that Sir Michael Johnson, who owns Manton Rempville Hall, is a personal friend of the Chief Constable, and any complaints will go straight to that level.”

            “Thank you for the warning, Doctor Crabtree, I will bear what you say in mind, but I do have to find a murderer after all and that’s the main aim of my investigation. Now, do you have a nice picture of the sword that I can show to the people at the hall, preferably one that doesn’t show it sticking into Mr Edward Morgan? That would be quite tasteless, wouldn’t it Sergeant?”

            “It would indeed, sir, because we do need those people to be able to easily identify the sword and not have their recall impaired by seeing a dead body.”

            “We have a nice picture here, Colin, which people will enjoy looking at.”

            “Thanks, Doctor Crabtree, my compliments to the photographer.”

            With that, Knowles and Barnes left the lab and headed over to Manton Rempville Hall in Barnes’ sleek white Morgan, which Knowles thought would impress the upper-class individuals they were about to meet.

========

Chapter 2 – Monday, 11:30am

                   Barnes drove his Morgan down the carefully manicured driveway of Manton Rempville Hall, while Knowles stared at the yew hedges, which had been sheared into interesting shapes that he couldn’t quite recognise. After they’d parked, Knowles walked over to one of the hedges and pointed.

            “What do you think they’re supposed to be, Barnesy, these shapes?”

            Barnes looked at Knowles, who was moving his head around to try and get the right angle for a correct identification of the topiary.

            “Well, Inspector, isn’t that one a mouse and this one here a hedgehog?”

            “It could be a hedgehog I suppose, but I thought it might be a crouching lion – you see there’s the mane and that’s definitely a tail…”

            “Excuse me, this is private property,” said a very posh female voice, “if you don’t leave I will call the police.”

            “Well, there’s no need, because we are already here, madam,” said Knowles brandishing his identification card in the lady’s face, “I am Detective Inspector Colin Knowles and this is Detective Sergeant Rod Barnes. We are here to ask you and your family about the death that occurred in the grounds of the monastery earlier today.”

            “Death, you say, is that why there were all those sirens keeping us awake at some ungodly hour?”

            “Those sirens were the ambulance and police cars rushing to the scene of a murder. I am sorry, but I don’t know your name.”

            “The impertinence – I am Lady Bunny Johnson, if you must know, and why do those people put on their sirens when the murdered person is already dead and there’s no reason to rush?”

            “Thank you, Lady Johnson, I do need to know your name and there is always a reason to rush to a murder scene as vital evidence can easily be lost if the police aren’t on the scene as soon as possible.”

            “Really – it doesn’t seem necessary to me; perhaps they could put them on just in the afternoons?”

            “We’ll see about that; anyway, how many people do you have in the hall at the moment – I would like to interview them all, please.”

            “I’ll ask the butler, Fairfax, to gather the staff together in the lower library for you.”

            “I would like to interview everyone in the house, staff, family, and house guests, if there are any of course.”

            “You surely can’t believe that any members of the family, my family, would be involved in anything as sordid as a murder?”

            “The murder was committed on a property adjacent to this hall, last night, so I would like to eliminate every person in this hall from my enquiries as soon as possible. So, Lady Johnson, if you please can you gather everyone in the library…”

            “Which one, we have two?”

            “…please gather everyone in the lower library in fifteen minutes from now, so Sergeant Barnes and I can find out where everyone was last night.”

            “I’ll ask Fairfax to gather the family and then he can go and get Wilkinson and Jenkins. I will ask Miss Newton to rouse everyone in The Coach House.”

With that Lady Johnson had gone.

“I presume that’s The Coach House over there,” said Barnes pointing to a two-storey brick building behind some topiary bushes.

As if on cue, a youngish maid wearing an apron dashed out of the front door of the hall and headed in the direction of the building.

“That must be Miss Newton doing as she has been bid by her boss,” growled Knowles, “and I wonder who Wilkinson and Jenkins are?”

Bio: I am a writer. I love writing mysteries and thrillers, especially on topics close to my heart. A list of my books, both about travel and other subjects, can be found here.

Goat Parva Murders

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.

==========

The stalker trained his binoculars on the ground floor lounge window where Danica Baker-Clements could be seen in her underwear watching TV. Danica’s blonde hair tumbled over artificially brown shoulders and the rhododendron branches twitched as the binoculars moved slowly over her complete loveliness. An owl screeched in the trees behind the stalker – the bird was catching mice in Doggett’s Field near the Baker-Clements’ house and had been disturbed. The warm night air was filled with the scent of honeysuckle.

The stalker was anticipating Mrs Baker-Clements removing her clothes during the evening as was the custom on Tuesdays and so intent was he on sharing every moment with her that he failed to hear the slight footfalls behind him. Danica Baker-Clements began to unhook her bra and the stalker’s breathing increased in intensity.

As the bra fell aside the stone hit the stalker’s skull rendering him unconscious instantly. He fell forward into the bush and then slumped to the ground, his glassy eyes surveying the lounge window but this time without binoculars. The assailant picked a bloom, placed it in the stalker’s mouth, and clamped the mouth shut.

For Rosemary, thought the assailant, the fight back begins.

Two minutes later Tim Armstrong cycled down the Baker-Clements’ drive and parked his bike out of sight behind the greenhouse. He was on time. He kept to the shadows created by the strong moonlight and soon knocked on the dining room window. Mrs Baker-Clements smiled, removed her last item of clothing, and headed to the window. They were seen only by a pair of lifeless eyes.

Chasing Cats

For less than $1 you can read This book  which describes 40 made-up traditions similar to the real ones in England.

All the stories are distinct and can be read independently; this is a book for the busy individual who has a spare five or ten minutes to discover the secrets of Biscuit Rolling.
Excerpt: Cat Chasing from Barton-in-the-Beans:

Barton-in-the-Beans is a village in the county of Leicestershire in the heart of England. In the Middle Ages it was believed that there were more cats in the village than in any other village or town in the country. This could only mean one thing in those times: witches.  Lots of them.

            There was no lake near the village. The local chalk soil drained easily so even after heavy rain no large puddles formed. Thus deprived of his best known method of determining who was a witch, the local Witchfinder-General Roger Boydell hit upon a novel method for searching out the local witches. 

            He determined that witches are very attached to their cats; at the equinoxes and the solstices he told his henchmen to round up all the village cats and place them into a large pen. At his signal, a man would allow three of the creatures to escape from the pen. These cats would be chased by the Witchfinder-General’s fitter cronies around the village. If any woman chased after the man chasing her cat, especially on a broomstick, she was determined to be a witch and sent off to Leicester for burning on the High Cross.

            This tradition lasted for 400 years, comfortably outlasting the role of Witchfinder-General by over 300 years. In the mid-20th Century, as people became aware of diets and exercise, it was noticed that the cats of Barton-in-the-Beans were the leanest, fittest, and most athletic cats in the whole county.

            Gradually from all over the country owners of fat, unfit, and lazy cats brought their animals to the quarterly cat-chasing extravaganza. However, some of these owners refused to chase their cat through the village and both owner and cat were sent packing.

            Other owners forgot their witch costumes and were disqualified. Distracted by the local mice population in the surrounding fields, some cats were lost forever. Sadly, some owners were as unfit as their animals and finished up at Leicester’s High Cross hospital.

            The Barton-in-the-Beans Cat Chasing is Leicestershire’s largest group event and is held four times a year with around 500 cats participating over a long weekend. The sponsors of the event include Which? magazine and the Egyptian Embassy.  

Bio: I am a writer. I love writing creatively especially about subjects such as British traditions, where my made-up traditions are no less ridiculous than the real thing. A list of my books, both fictional and factual (about travel), can be found here.

Cat Chasing

For less than $1 you can read This book  which describes 40 made-up traditions similar to the real ones in England.

All the stories are distinct and can be read independently; this is a book for the busy individual who has a spare five or ten minutes to discover the secrets of Biscuit Rolling.
Excerpt: Cat Chasing from Barton-in-the-Beans:

Barton-in-the-Beans is a village in the county of Leicestershire in the heart of England. In the Middle Ages it was believed that there were more cats in the village than in any other village or town in the country. This could only mean one thing in those times: witches.  Lots of them.

            There was no lake near the village. The local chalk soil drained easily so even after heavy rain no large puddles formed. Thus deprived of his best known method of determining who was a witch, the local Witchfinder-General Roger Boydell hit upon a novel method for searching out the local witches. 

            He determined that witches are very attached to their cats; at the equinoxes and the solstices he told his henchmen to round up all the village cats and place them into a large pen. At his signal, a man would allow three of the creatures to escape from the pen. These cats would be chased by the Witchfinder-General’s fitter cronies around the village. If any woman chased after the man chasing her cat, especially on a broomstick, she was determined to be a witch and sent off to Leicester for burning on the High Cross.

            This tradition lasted for 400 years, comfortably outlasting the role of Witchfinder-General by over 300 years. In the mid-20th Century, as people became aware of diets and exercise, it was noticed that the cats of Barton-in-the-Beans were the leanest, fittest, and most athletic cats in the whole county.

            Gradually from all over the country owners of fat, unfit, and lazy cats brought their animals to the quarterly cat-chasing extravaganza. However, some of these owners refused to chase their cat through the village and both owner and cat were sent packing.

            Other owners forgot their witch costumes and were disqualified. Distracted by the local mice population in the surrounding fields, some cats were lost forever. Sadly, some owners were as unfit as their animals and finished up at Leicester’s High Cross hospital.

            The Barton-in-the-Beans Cat Chasing is Leicestershire’s largest group event and is held four times a year with around 500 cats participating over a long weekend. The sponsors of the event include Which? magazine and the Egyptian Embassy.  

Bio: I am a writer. I love writing creatively especially about subjects such as British traditions, where my made-up traditions are no less ridiculous than the real thing. A list of my books, both fictional and factual (about travel), can be found here.

Manton Rempville – 4

This is my second homage to the detective story. I’ve always loved mystery stories by Agatha Christie, Ngaio Marsh, and Dorothy L Sayers. I watched many DVDs of detective series from the UK and this was the spark to start the creative process. I have tried to add some humour into the book. The Manton Rempville Murders is the second in the Inspector Knowles Mysteries and reacquaints the reader with Knowles and his Detective Sergeant Rod Barnes, who were first introduced in The Goat Parva Murders.

==========   

Knowles and Barnes drove back to Scoresby station and immediately headed to the forensics laboratory, hoping that Dr Crabtree would have some news for them.

            “Well, Colin, I don’t have that much to tell you, really. You know some of it already. Stabbed in the back with some force by someone slightly taller than the 5ft 7 inch victim – the blade has followed a slightly downward trajectory – victim died instantly and fell in a heap on the ground causing the blade to buckle and bend slightly, so that the murderer was unable to remove the sword cleanly although they had a good go, causing the exit wound to be very messy indeed. There are no fingerprints on the sword whatsoever – it was cleaned before use with a metal polish and quite possibly sharpened too.”

            “Really? That sounds pre-meditated to me,” said Knowles, “go on Dr Crabtree.”

            “We found a red thread on the hilt of the sword, which looks as though it has come from a sheet or towel used to hide the sword from view.”

            “No great surprise there,” said Barnes, “few people could carry a sword without alerting suspicion of some kind.”

            “Whereas carrying a large red towel is perfectly normal and wouldn’t be in any way uncommon,” replied Knowles, “although it was probably carried in a bag for the most effective disguise. What material is the thread?”

            “I think it’s cotton, Colin, we can have it analysed for you.”

            “Yes, please Doctor, I like to be thorough in the affairs of evidence.”

            “Of course, Colin, that won’t be a problem.”

            “And now the all important question – what was the time of death approximately?”

            “Well, I am almost certain the time was 11:06pm.”

            “Give or take an hour or so?” said Barnes.

            “Give or take 30 seconds,” said Knowles, “the doctor is indicating that the victim must have smashed his watch when he fell dead to the ground – are there any fingerprints on the watch?”

            “We’ll have to check, Colin, and let you know when it’s been dusted.”

            “Thank you – I wonder whether he would have smashed his watch though, if he fell on to the grass.”

            “The watch face was broken by something, Colin” said Dr Crabtree showing Knowles the watch, enclosed in a plastic evidence bag.

            “Indeed it was, but there’s no indication it hit the grass, no soil, no colouring of green. Were there any stones lying around where he landed?”

            “Let’s look at the photos, shall we?”

            The men walked over to the doctor’s table and examined the photos that showed the ground around Morgan’s left hand.

            “There’s no stones around where his left hand and wrist would have landed, so what could he have hit the watch on?” pondered Barnes.

            “There’s nothing obvious is there, so either the killer did it to fool us or it was broken before he was killed,” replied Knowles, “so Doctor, what do the other signs tell us about his time of death?”

            “They more or less fit with the watch, I would have put the time at between 10:30 and 11:30pm last night.”

            “Interesting, so I wonder why half-an-hour could make so much difference, if the murderer knew the body wouldn’t be found until the morning?”

            “It has to be to establish an alibi, sir – I can prove I was within Person X at 11:06pm and they will verify that, whereas half-an-hour earlier or later and that alibi would not hold.”

            “Indeed, Sergeant, we shall have to ask our questions very carefully when we meet our suspects.”

            “You have some suspects already, Colin? That was quick work.”

            “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t call them suspects yet, as I haven’t even met them, but I was referring to the people who live at the hall in Manton Rempville. Adelaide Hills saw some people behaving suspiciously when she was discovering the body and they must have all come from the hall.”

            “Try not to bring class politics into the conversation, Colin, especially when there’s a case to be solved.”

            “Right, wait until afterwards, you mean?”

Bio: I am a writer. I love writing mysteries and thrillers, especially on topics close to my heart. A list of my books, both about travel and other subjects, can be found here.

Goat Parva Murders

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.

==========

The stalker trained his binoculars on the ground floor lounge window where Danica Baker-Clements could be seen in her underwear watching TV. Danica’s blonde hair tumbled over artificially brown shoulders and the rhododendron branches twitched as the binoculars moved slowly over her complete loveliness. An owl screeched in the trees behind the stalker – the bird was catching mice in Doggett’s Field near the Baker-Clements’ house and had been disturbed. The warm night air was filled with the scent of honeysuckle.

The stalker was anticipating Mrs Baker-Clements removing her clothes during the evening as was the custom on Tuesdays and so intent was he on sharing every moment with her that he failed to hear the slight footfalls behind him. Danica Baker-Clements began to unhook her bra and the stalker’s breathing increased in intensity.

As the bra fell aside the stone hit the stalker’s skull rendering him unconscious instantly. He fell forward into the bush and then slumped to the ground, his glassy eyes surveying the lounge window but this time without binoculars. The assailant picked a bloom, placed it in the stalker’s mouth, and clamped the mouth shut.

For Rosemary, thought the assailant, the fight back begins.

Two minutes later Tim Armstrong cycled down the Baker-Clements’ drive and parked his bike out of sight behind the greenhouse. He was on time. He kept to the shadows created by the strong moonlight and soon knocked on the dining room window. Mrs Baker-Clements smiled, removed her last item of clothing, and headed to the window. They were seen only by a pair of lifeless eyes.