Murder in the Royal Forest of Dean

By Frances Powell

There's nothing quite like flies swarming around a dead body to put a damper on a romantic picnic.

When a young man's body is discovered in a shallow grave in the Forest of Dean, Chief Inspector Cam Fergus and his team with the aid of local resident and retired criminal profiler, Sue Parsons, believe they have narrowed down their search for the murderer. As the search for the assailant is underway another gruesome discovery in the Forest has them re-examining their clues.

Was this a drug deal gone wrong, a crime of passion or a revenge killing? Return again to the sleepy market town of Ross on Wye, as Chief Inspector Cam Fergus finds himself once again investigating a series of murders in the Herefordshire countryside."

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 3, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543953275

Book preview

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

eBook ISBN: 978-1-54395-327-5

Other novels by Frances Powell

The Bodyguard

Mystery of White Horse Lake

Lady of the Wye

A Ballysea Mystery Series:

The O’Brien

A Bad Wind Blowing

The O’Brien: The Untold Story

A Ballysea Christmas

Cover Design by: Jo Stallings

Copyright 2018 Frances Powell

All rights reserved.

This book is dedicated to the memory of Mrs. Joan Welch (Roberts), a true lady of the Wye, who introduced me to her hometown of Ross-on-Wye forty-two years ago.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 1

There’s nothing quite like flies swarming around a dead body, to put a damper on a romantic picnic.

The decaying leaves of autumn had been violently pushed aside as the small bluebell shoots pushed their way into the world, sending forth their bell-shaped blossoms blanketing the floor of the ancient forest in a fine blue mist.  Chief Inspector Cameron Fergus, or Cam as he was known to family and friends, loved the history of the forest with its ties to the Tudor kings. Once used as a royal hunting ground, the 110 square kilometers of ancient woodlands provided a source of food for the royal court and later timber for their fleet of ships. Always a country boy at heart, the Forest of Dean was one of Cam’s favorite places to spend a leisurely afternoon on his rare days off.

Cam and his wife Helen often strolled along the same shady path, from the carpark at Beechenhurst, following the Statue Walk past almost-hidden statues and dozens of colorfully sprayed sheep which grazed freely throughout the primeval forest. This time of year, the Forest was usually inundated with visitors and tourists, who came from all corners of the world, but today the forest was relatively quiet. And that’s how Cam liked it, just the two of them spending peaceful, relaxing time together.

Weeks had passed since official duties with the West Mercia Police had kept Cam from spending what he called ‘quality time’ with his wife. Watching Helen spread out the blanket for their picnic, a smiled played across his full lips as he recalled the first day he spotted her over thirty years ago in that quaint used-bookshop on the shores of the Thames. ‘Could it really be possible after thirty years, to be in love with someone as much as he was then?’ he wondered. Smiling down at the woman he loved, his heart swelled with pride, ‘Yes, as much and more.’

The move from London to Ross-on-Wye had, for the most part, been very satisfying to Cam. He and Helen had settled into a lovely home perched high above the River Wye and had made many good friends in town. The house was way too large for just the two of them but Cam couldn’t resist the view. There was something cathartic about watching flowing water that relaxed Cam and helped him forget his daily work-related problems. Professionally, the best part of the move was there had only been one major incident since his transfer from the London Met to the West Mercia Constabulary.

The forest was unnaturally quiet as Cam and Helen spread their picnic blanket in the small grassy clearing.  No birdsong or bleating of a solitary sheep.  This eerie silence didn’t go unnoticed by Cam as he paced back and forth with his arms clasped behind his back, eyes scanning the clearing for any sign of imminent danger.  The forest was now home to wild boar which escaped from a farm in 1999. Despite attempts at culling, their numbers had grown to a point that they were becoming a nuisance. Cam had recently received reports of sows charging walkers and attacking dogs who ventured too close to their piglets.

Having spent his youth in the country, growing up on a small holding in the tiny Scottish town of Airth before moving to London to begin his career with the Met, Cam was quick to realize something was amiss.  As Helen sat innocently unaware, contently humming a lively Welsh tune from her childhood and spreading out the food for their picnic, Cam wandered over to where the clearing met the forest.  The area was partially shaded creating a dappled effect on the ground below; causing Cam to squint to try to make sense of what lay in the undergrowth. It was then he saw it.  It was the flies that first attracted his attention, as they buzzed around something lying half-buried in the freshly turned earth.  Their idyllic picnic was about to be interrupted once again.

Chapter 2

Striding back to where Helen sat cross-legged on the blanket pouring tea and un-wrapping the cheese and pickle sandwiches, Cam stood silently and waited until Helen looked up.

What’s wrong, Cam? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.

Turning to look in the direction of his discovery, Cam shook his head, I’m afraid our picnic is going to have to wait.

Reaching up and taking her husband’s hand, she waited patiently for Cam to continue.

There’s been another murder. I’ve just found a body over there at the edge of the clearing, pointing in the direction of his grim discovery.

Leaving a stunned Helen struggling to her feet and staring in the direction he’d pointed, Cam quickly turned and walked away as he put a call out to the station for Sergeant Roberts and Mary Hamilton, the local forensic pathologist.

The first to arrive on the scene was Mary. Her smallholding near Lydbrook brushed against the northwest corner of the Forest of Dean and like Cam, it was her day off. Mary Hamilton was a large-boned, country woman who had previously been a practicing small animal veterinarian. Unfortunately, just two years into her practice she developed a severe allergy to her patients. It was then she switched to pathology. When Helen and Cam first moved to Ross-on-Wye, Mary was the first member of the team to stop by bringing a welcome basket. She and Helen quickly became close friends, often meeting in town for coffee. Mary had grown very fond of the newly arrived Chief Inspector, as he treated her with the same professionalism he did the male officers. He was a no-nonsense investigator, just like her.

Donning overalls and shoe protectors before pulling on her latex gloves, she walked to the forest edge where just a forearm and hand lay protruding from the freshly turned earth. Squatting down, Mary used her gloved hand to clean away some of the soft soil to expose a body wrapped in what appeared to be a blanket. Clearing enough dirt away to get to the head, Mary gently pulled away the blanket, exposing the face of the victim, before sitting back on her rather well-rounded haunches and shaking her head. Walking over and squatting down beside Mary, Cam stared questioningly into Mary’s downcast eyes, What is it? Do you recognize him, Mary?

Yeah Cam, he’s Jamie Woods. Local lad, lives just outside of the forest, replied Mary as she staggered to her feet, stripped off her gloves and