She Lies Beneath Read online

  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.

  Other novels by Frances Powell

  The Bodyguard

  Mystery of White Horse Lake

  Lady of the Wye

  Ghost of Tara

  A Ballysea Mystery Series:

  The O’Brien

  A Bad Wind Blowing

  The O’Brien: The Untold Story

  A Ballysea Christmas

  Chief Inspector Cam Fergus Mystery Series

  Lady of the Wye

  Death in the Royal Forest of Dean

  River Wye Dead & Breakfast

  Cover Design by Kim Bailey

  Copyright 2019 by Frances Powell

  All rights reserved.

  eBook ISBN 978-1-54398-775-1

  Note to Readers: British spelling has been used in this novel.

  This book is dedicated to my husband, Russell Powell, for his patience and dedication with editing this book.

  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 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  “Professor Henderson, over here!” shouted the young Associate Professor as he staggered back from the open trench where, minutes before, he had been carefully excavating what he presumed were ancient remains. Turning away from the horrific discovery, all of the colour drained from the young man’s face as he suddenly turned, bent over, and retching lost the entire contents of his stomach.

  Pushing himself up from his squatting position, at the far end of the dry moat below the outer Norman castle wall, Professor Henderson hurried to the group of students who stared, mouths agape, into the trench.

  “What’s so urgent, Jameson,” the middle-aged, gray-haired professor asked as his eyes slowly followed the direction of the young man’s trembling, pointed finger.

  Taking just one look at their discovery, the older man turned away, reached into his pocket, pulled out his mobile, and dialed 999, “This is Professor Henderson, we’re at Goodrich Castle conducting an archeological dig, and we’ve discovered some remains….No Sergeant, this isn’t a 12th-century burial, not unless the people living then wore denim jeans. …Yes, we’ll wait.”

  Snapping shut his older model Motorola flip phone, Professor Henderson turned back to his students, “Nothing more you can do here team. Take a break and go on down to the welcome centre. When the police arrive, direct them up here. I’ll wait with the remains.”

  As his students wandered down the gravel path towards the welcome centre, Professor Henderson climbed down into the ditch and being careful not to disturb anything, visually examined the remains. He was used to examining the skeletons of the long-dead to determine the cause of death, but in all his fifty years, this was the first time he’d been faced with anything like the remains that lay before him. It still wasn’t difficult to determine how the young woman in the ditch died. Her skull had been caved in by a person or persons unknown. At least, the murderer was unknown for now.

  Chapter 2

  Chief Inspector Cam Fergus hated the return of autumn. The summer had been a warm and dry one, allowing Cam to spend his free time with his wife, Helen, working in their garden or enjoying the beauty of the area they now called home. Having been raised in Scotland by his widowed mother, they’d depended on the harvest from their gardens for the food on their table. The coming of autumn followed by the freeze of winter meant less food on the table for the growing lad. When his mother died the autumn of his seventeenth year, Cam, unable to find local employment, sold their small farm and moved south to London where he joined the Metropolitan Police. It was there he met Helen, and after thirty years and one particularly violent autumn, he agreed to take a position with the West Mercia Police in the Herefordshire market town of Ross-on-Wye. Walking up Church Street from his home overlooking the River Wye, Cam pondered why it seemed that autumn always put him in such a foul mood. He thought about the gardens growing barren, the leaves falling from the trees leaving their bare limbs stretching like skeletons into the grey sky, his mother’s untimely death and the end of his career with the MET. To him, autumn signified in a word…death.

  As Cam passed the centre of town, he greeted the early morning shoppers at the Thursday market and thought about how relatively crime-free the summer had been. Except for a minimal number of petty crimes, there hadn’t been one major incident the entire summer. While most of the police work was handled out of Hereford, Cam had been able to convince his superiors that the town, with its recent population growth and the upswing in popularity as a tourist destination, could benefit from a small contingent of officers at the local station. It appeared that his recommendation for re-staffing the station on Old Maid’s Walk had indeed proven to reduce crime.

  Cam had just hung up his coat on the old, brass coat rack in his office, poured a cup of coffee, and switched on his desktop computer when the call came in. Taking the details of the reported incident, Sergeant Dan Roberts, slammed the phone down and raced to Cam’s office. Dan and Cam had an excellent working, as well as a personal relationship. When news first came three years ago that the station was to be headed up by a former Met Inspector, the other officers were skeptical of the type of boss they were being strapped with. It only took a matter of days for everyone under his command to warm to Cam’s no-nonsense attitude. It became apparent to all that Chief Inspector Cam Fergus wasn’t about to ask any of his officers to do anything that he wouldn’t do. Cam, in turn, had come to rely on all his officers, but none more than Dan Roberts. As a local, born and raised in Ross-on-Wye, Dan was a valuable source of local knowledge and was more than happy to share this knowledge with Cam.

  “Sir, that was the professor in charge of that university crew doing the archeological dig over at Goodrich Castle, they’ve found remains in the dry moat.”

  Raising an eyebrow as he lifted the steaming cup of coffee to his mouth and continuing to stare at his computer screen, Cam asked, “And why would he be calling us about some ancient bones?”

  “Apparently, the remains are wearing denim jeans.”

  Jumping from his chair and nearly upsetting his coffee, Cam grabbed his coat, “OK, with me, Sergeant!”

  Rushing down the hall, Cam yelled over his shoulder to the desk sergeant, “Call Mary and tell her to get up to Goodrich Castle right away, then get the SOCO from Hereford up there. We have a body.” As they headed out of town, Cam couldn’t help but think to himself, ‘another autumn…another death.’

  Forensic pathologist Mary Hamilton was just finishing feeding her chickens on her smallholding in Lydbrook, just outside the Forest of Dean, when her work mobile rang. “Mary Hamilton. Yes, Sergeant…Goodrich Castle?… Ok, I’ll get there as soon as I can…. Yes. Sergeant, I’m well aware that the Chief Inspector wants me there right away, but I don’t think our remains are going to suffer if I’m a few minutes late; however, my animals might suffer if I leave them unfed and without water.” Letting out a long exasperated sigh as the desk ser
geant waffled on about the urgency of the situation, Mary continued, “Don’t worry sergeant, I’ll take full responsibility,” before abruptly disconnecting the call. Mary Hamilton took her duties very seriously, but she also knew her commitment to living beings came first, and as a former small animal vet, she valued the well-being of her animals.

  After feeding and watering the rest of her stock, Mary locked up her farmhouse and climbed into her ancient Land Rover, and headed down the bumpy, dirt track from her farm towards the B4229 for the ten-minute drive to the Castle. Arriving at the scene, Mary was waved through a barricade manned by a uniformed officer and parked the Land Rover beside the Crime Scene Investigation van on the welcome centre parking lot. The lot was the closest place to park for access to the castle. The rest of the journey had to be made on foot up a path that ran beside open fields on one side and wooded area on the opposite side. Mary quickly grabbed her examination kit, donned her overalls and stuffed some shoe protectors and gloves into her pockets. Mary always brought extras, because invariably, Cam never seemed to remember his.

  By the time Mary arrived at the site, the weather had begun to turn as thick clouds darkened the sky, bringing with them a fine mist which clung to everything like a delicate spider web. Blue and white police tape cordoned off the scene, and the crime scene team was just finishing taking photographs and was spread out in the dry moat looking for possible clues. Chief Inspector Cam Fergus and Sergeant Roberts stood staring down into the moat at the shallow trench, as Mary approached, “Sorry I’m late. I was in the middle of feeding my animals.”

  Cam looked over at Mary as she handed him the blue shoe protectors and gloves, “No problem, Mary. I don’t think our victim is going anywhere.”

  Grunting, Mary looked down at the body in the trench, the smell of now wet earth mixed with decaying flesh assailing her nostrils, “Well, let’s have a look at her, so I can get her back to the lab, and determine the time and cause of death.”

  Before Mary had even put one foot on the ladder leading down to the moat, a gravelly voice declared, “Mary, I think you’ll find that the young lady likely died of blunt force trauma to the head.”

  Whipping her head around, Mary looked up wide-eyed as she stepped back off the ladder and strode over to the man and warmly embraced him, “As I live and breathe, Jim Henderson! What are you doing here?”

  Hugging Mary back, the Professor replied, “Its Professor Henderson now, and I’m down here with a bunch of my archeology students from Hereford doing a dig. I’m the one who called the police, but what’s a veterinarian doing here at a crime scene?”

  Smiling up into her old friend’s warm brown eyes, Mary said, “Well, obviously it’s been way too long. I had to give up my practice. It seems I developed severe allergies to my furry friends two years in, so I switched fields.”

  “And how’s that big strapping Yorkshire lad you married?”

  Cam’s eyes flashed a warning to the stranger, but it was too late. As soon as the Professor realized he had misspoken, he immediately took Mary’s hand and apologized, “I’m so sorry, Mary. I didn’t know.” Cam continued to watch the way the stranger looked at Mary and the detective in him quickly sussed that he may be sorry about saying what he did, but he certainly wasn’t sorry that Mary was available.

  As the rain began to pelt down, Mary quickly excused herself and climbed back on the ladder and slowly made her way down to join the rest of the team in the dry moat. Following swiftly behind Mary, Cam squatted down beside her in the now muddy trench, and asked, “What do you think, Mary?”

  “The victim definitely has signs of blunt force trauma, but I’ll need to examine the remains before I can be comfortable giving you a precise cause and time of death. As soon, as we can get her back to the lab, the sooner I can get to work.”

  Mary signaled for the team to bring a body bag and gurney to lift the remains from the excavation site. As they worked to remove the victim, Mary returned to talk to her old friend and calling Cam over, introduced the two men, “Cam, this is Professor Jim Henderson. Jim and I were at university together in Yorkshire. Jim, this is Chief Inspector Cam Fergus.”

  As the two men shook hands, Cam said, “Nice to meet you, Professor. We’ll need to take a statement from you and your students. Since the area is closed off, I’m sure we’ll be able to use the welcome centre to take the statements.”

  “That’s fine, Chief Inspector, my students are all down there now. When will we be able to resume work on the dig?”

  Shaking his head, “I’m afraid this is a crime scene, so for the time being the Castle and the surrounding area is off-limits to everyone.”

  “Chief Inspector, I think you and Mary need to see this,” called Steve, the team lead, as they finished lifting the young woman’s body from the trench.

  Cam and Mary strode back and stared into the open trench. Under the decomposing body, and partially hidden by a layer of soil, was the skeleton of a second victim.

  Shaking his head, Cam stared at Mary, “Are you thinking what I am, Mary?”

  “If you’re thinking that we have at least two victims of the same murderer, then you’re right.” Directing her attention to the crime scene team, she said, “Get photos and check the immediate area and then get both sets of remains back to the lab.”

  “We may have to bring in ground-penetrating radar to check the entire moat for any additional remains,” said Mary as she followed the gurneys bearing the remains of the first victim down the path.

  “Do you think that’s absolutely necessary?” asked Professor Henderson as he followed Mary down the trail.

  “It is. It’ll save us from digging up the entire moat looking for any additional victims. It can be done quickly, and the sooner we are done, the sooner you can continue your work,” replied Mary as she reached her car and removed her overalls and shoe protectors.

  Cam had been following the conversation carefully, and reiterated, “As I told you before Professor, this is a crime scene, and the entire area is off-limits until further notice.”

  “That’s unfortunate, but I suppose it can’t be helped. As soon as you finish with my students, I’ll take them back to Hereford, and then I’ll come back and wait for your all clear.”

  As the two men walked into the welcome centre, Cam recalled how Mary’s cheeks had taken on a rosy glow, and her eyes had lit up when she saw the Professor and wondered if there was something more in their past than just friendship. Cam made a mental note to ask Helen when he got home tonight. Helen and Mary had become best friends when Mary had stopped by with a welcome basket when they first moved to Ross, and if anyone knew about Mary’s past loves, maybe Helen would.

  Chapter 3

  It took less than an hour to take statements from the students. There had only been three working in that trench, while the others were working in other areas of the dry moat. There really wasn’t anything they could add to help Cam’s investigation, but procedure was procedure and statements still had to be taken. The last person Cam interviewed was Professor Henderson, “Professor, you told Mary that cause of death was blunt force trauma. Did you examine the remains or touch anything near the remains?”

  “No, I didn’t disturb the remains. It was a visual examination. In my line of work, I’ve seen a lot of remains, but not in that state of decomposition. Bones are what I do, so to speak. But, I’ll still be astonished if Mary finds a different cause of death.”

  “Thanks, Professor. If you leave your contact details with Sergeant Roberts, we’ll notify you as soon as you and your team are allowed to continue with your research.”

  After the remains were transferred to the morgue for further examination, the police artist rendered a sketch of what the first victim may have looked like. The next morning, after Sergeant Dan Roberts finished checking the database for missing persons, and failed to find a match, Cam ordered a house-to-house inquiry in the village of Goodrich.

  It was less tha
n five miles from the station to the small village of Goodrich. Sergeant Roberts was very familiar with the village having taken his children to visit its Norman and medieval castle on many occasions. The small village of Goodrich had initially grown up around Goodrich Castle and had recently seen some new housing development. During the high tourist season, the relatively small population of less than a thousand swelled due to interest in the castle. Sergeant Roberts was glad that being off-season there would be less curious onlookers to interfere with the investigation as well as less an impact on the tourist trade for the castle and village.

  The door-to-door in the village with the artist-rendered sketch of the victim was proving fruitless until he struck lucky at the small local pub. It was just a little past noon when Dan Roberts pushed open the heavy oak door and entered the small pub. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior, he strode up to the bar. The occupants of the bar suddenly stopped talking, as all eyes followed the stranger. The pub was busy with what Dan suspected were locals, so he was hopeful that someone might recognize the young victim.

  Sliding the photo across the bar to the barman, Dan identified himself, “Sergeant Roberts, West Mercia Police. Do you recognize this young lady?”

  Pushing the photo back across the bar at Dan, the barman began polishing a row of pint glasses and turned his back, “Yeah, I recognize her.”

  “Are you sure this is the girl you saw?” asked Sergeant Roberts, pushing the photo back across the bar in front of the man who turned to face Dan as he continued polishing glasses.

  Taking another quick glance, the bartender pushed the sketch back across the bar again, “I’m not likely to forget her.”

  “And why is that?” asked Roberts, growing annoyed with the man’s surly attitude.

  Slamming the glass he was polishing on the bar, “Would you be likely to forget someone who did over a thousand pounds worth of damage to your establishment and then did a runner? If you people would have done your job, maybe this girl would be in jail and not dead.”