The Dead Will Beckon

THE DEAD WILL BECKON DETECTIVE INSPECTOR MARC FAGAN Jason Chapman © Offworld publications April 2023 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored on a retrieval system Or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author, producer and publisher. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I would like to thank all my beta readers for helping make this book possible. Thank you for putting in the time and effort to read my work and tell me where I am going wrong. Many thanks to the guys at the UK Crime book club Facebook group for your support. And also a big thank you to Abergavenny Voice and all the people who have helped me in my research. Special thanks I would like to thank all the ex-police officers who have given me advice, so that the story you are about to read has a sense of realism. Author’s notes This novel is a work of complete fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. Obscene language and sexual abuse warning This story contains language that some will find offensive. Also references to sexual abuse some will find upsetting. For mum Thank you for the gift of storytelling CHAPTER 1 DAY 1 Bailey Park – Abergavenny – 6:38am Even in death, her face was beautiful. Unblemished by the relentless march of time. Detective Inspector Marc Fagan stared down at the woman’s body. Her lifeless eyes seemed to stare through the canvass of the CSI tent and across the landscape. A popular spot early in the morning with joggers and dog walkers, especially in the summer months. The woman was slim build, in her mid-fifties. But it was her face that hit home with Fagan. It seemed like time had stopped. The last time he had seen her was thirty-eight years ago. Fagan looked at his watch. He had been at the park for just over half an hour. He had been woken and been informed that he was the leading scene of crimes officer regarding the discovery. Night Detective Inspector, Nathan Saddler, pulled back the entrance to the tent. ‘DI Scouser.’ He mocked. Saddler was in his early thirties, athletic and totally in love with himself. Single, with a reputation for eyeing up the young female police constables that came in and out of Newport police HQ. He looked at the body. ‘Smart looking piece, you know, for her age.’ Fagan flashed a look of disapproval, but remained silent. Saddler held out the paperwork he had collated. ‘Looks like you’re going to have a busy day with this.’ Fagan took the file. Saddler hurried out of the tent and headed towards the park gates, lighting a rolled up cigarette. ‘Oi, you dull twat!’ Fagan shouted after him. Saddler turned. ‘Just in case you didn’t realise, this is a fucking crime scene. I’ll kick your bloody arse all the way to the chief super’s office for a reprimand. Stub that out. Log your name with one of the uniform. Someone will interview you later.’ Saddler stared back, like a scalded schoolchild. He stubbed out the cigarette on a stone pillar. ‘Prick.’ Fagan sighed. Saddler was typical of the new generation of detectives making their way up through the ranks. Not interested in the job, but the salary that comes with it. The park had been sealed off on immediate discovery of the body. Crime scene investigators descended on the area. Uniformed officers guarded each entrance, taking names from the scene of crimes officers and members of the public who were stupid enough to go near the gates. Inner and outer cordons had been put in place. A path had been laid out, leading directly to the CSI tent. Cars driving by the main gates slowed to a crawl. Curious early morning commuters tried to peer through the railings. Hoping to catch a glimmer of the CSI tent. Detective Sergeant Sean Watkins was a few hundred yards away talking to the man who had discovered her body. The man’s dog provided a constant irritation. Tugging on its lead, barking, demanding to return to the body it had discovered less than two hours earlier. Normally, witnesses were ushered away. However, this wasn’t how Fagan worked a crime scene. Any potential witnesses were detained within close proximity. A routine he had picked up while serving with Merseyside police. Fagan had thirty-five years under his belt as a serving police officer. Thirty years on Liverpool homicide. Never committed to a marriage, but involved with a string of women. The job always came first. Marriage was for people who wanted to throw away their careers. At least, that’s what Fagan believed. The lengthy hours and multiple homicides had eventually taken their toll. The police force was also damaged during the pandemic. Officers had to work from home, instead of on the streets dealing with serious crime. Fagan’s last murder case generated national headlines. Six-year-old Aron Miller. A child with a troubled family history. Social services had placed Aron on the child at risk register. However, after a meeting with his stepmother and father, he had been downgraded to a child in need. Just over a week following the judgment was passed, Aron’s body was discovered on waste ground notorious for fly tipping. Aron’s father, stepmother and fifteen-year-old stepsister were charged with his murder. The court hearing was lengthy. Details emerged, how the six-year-old was murdered. Despite dozens of visits by social services Aron’s parents had concealed the daily torture they had inflicted on the boy. When the autopsy on Aron’s body was performed, the pathologist found over two hundred past and current injuries. Aron had been subjected to ferocious beatings. Two of his ribs had been fractured. But no hospital visit was made. His body peppered with cigarette burns. The pathologist concluded Aron