Letter From The Dead: A British Murder Mystery (DI Declan Walsh Crime Thrillers Book 1) (Detective Inspector Declan Walsh) by Jack Gatland

Author:Jack Gatland [Gatland, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hooded Man Media
Published: 2020-11-14T23:00:00+00:00

17

GRAVESIDES AND ROADSIDES

‘You can go a little faster, laddie. We are a police car, after all.’

Monroe’s tone was terse, but at the same time his body language was relaxed as he sat in the passenger seat of Declan’s Audi. ‘This car is rubbish. Who gave you this car? You deserve a better car.’

‘Are you always this talkative while driving?’ Declan asked through clenched teeth as he undercut a white van in the middle lane of the M4. It was a two hour drive from Temple Inn to Marlborough, but currently Declan was aiming to get there in almost half that.

Monroe shrugged. ‘I don’t get out much,’ he said. ‘I really should rectify that.’

He’d been waiting for Declan and Anjli when they arrived back at the Command Unit; Anjli was sent with Billy to God’s Will TV to speak to Andy Mac and the crew who worked there, to see what else they could find out while Declan and Monroe drove to the scene of the crime; a small woodland area in the middle of a deserted Wiltshire forest.

‘Imagine the poor bastard,’ Monroe muttered. ‘There you are, gamekeeping a forest, think you see poachers, and the next day when you go to see whether they racked up any pheasants you find this.’

‘I don’t think there were any gamekeepers or pheasants,’ Declan replied. ‘I think it was a park ranger who was checking for doggers.’

‘Doggers?’ Monroe tutted. Dogging was a term used by people who liked to watch others have sex in public places, usually in cars in car parks or deserted clearings. ‘That’s not as good as my theory.’

‘No, Guv,’ Declan admitted, pulling the car off the M4 at the Hungerford junction, slowing down to turn left at the roundabout, the siren still blaring as the two blue lights in the car’s grill flashed intermittently.

‘Either way, it’s not a good thing for anyone to see,’ Monroe muttered again.

Forest Ranger Marshall Judd had called the police mid-morning with his grisly discovery. The previous evening he’d been night walking, checking some badger dens in Savernake Forest when he’d seen a faint, artificial light through a clearing. Assuming it was someone up to no good, he’d picked up a stout stick and, with his equally as sturdy Maglite torch had made his way through the woods towards it. However, as he’d moved closer the vehicle had pulled away, back out onto the trail that led off to the A346. Unable to see where the vehicle had been before the movement, and a little self-conscious that he was alone in a dense woods at night, Marshall had returned home, deciding instead to return to the clearing the following morning to check over the site.

What he’d found when he did eventually return was the half buried and charred body of Sebastian Payne.

He’d called the police and they’d examined the body, learning the identity through some half burned credit cards in the clothing. Declan had no idea how Monroe had found out.

The trail itself was nothing more

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