by Conrad Jones
‘No. That’s all we can do for now,’ Kim said. ‘Can I have all the footage from one o’clock this afternoon onwards, please?’
‘Sure,’ Lottie said. ‘I’ll email it to you if you like?’
‘Yes please,’ Kim said, handing Lottie her card. ‘Use this email.’
A knock on the trailer door interrupted them. Lottie opened it and let Alan in. ‘Any news?’ she asked.
‘No sign of Chelle but we have an image of the men from earlier this afternoon in the pub where Tiff thinks she might have been spiked,’ Alan said. He showed Lottie the picture. ‘I’ve got a clear image of the three men. Do you know them?’
‘Yes,’ Lottie said. ‘They don’t work for me directly. They’re mechanics.’ Lottie tapped at her computer. ‘They took one of the circus vans into Holyhead this morning for an MOT and new tyres. It looks like they took a liquid lunch on the way back.’
‘I need their names and where they are likely to be now,’ Alan said. Lottie gestured to the screen.
‘Carlos and Claus Vincentia are brothers and this one is their cousin David Prost.’ Lottie stood up. ‘I’ll take you to their caravan but at this time of night, they’ll be in the nearest pub. They don’t need to be up at the crack of dawn like the rest of us.’
‘Let’s send uniform to the Vic on Porth-y-felin, the Boathouse at the bottom of the road and Langdon’s in the marina,’ Alan said to Kim. Kim walked out of the trailer in a hurry to arrange the sweep. ‘You said they don’t work for you. What do you know about them?’
‘They’ve been mechanics for the circus for over a year. They work for a man called Ben Bronski,’ Lottie said. ‘He supplies us with fuel.’
‘For the vehicles?’ Alan asked.
‘For everything. The cars, vans, motorhomes, trucks, lorries, and the generators that power the rides and lights,’ Lottie explained. ‘Ben Bronski has been bringing us fuel since my father ran the show. We can’t travel as far as we do, paying forecourt prices. Bronski has a fleet of fuel tankers. He buys in bulk and resells to us and other travelling outfits. He also supplies us with mechanics and a mobile workshop. They keep us moving and road legal and I haven’t had any issues with them until now. They keep themselves to themselves and seem polite. I haven’t heard a bad word said about them.’
‘Okay. Can you take me to their caravan please,’ Alan said.
‘No problem. It’s up at the top of the field near Walthew Avenue,’ Lottie said. They walked out of the trailer and through the fair towards the circus. It was still running but the number of people around was waning. The food outlets were closing down. The smell of onions reminded Alan he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. His stomach was rumbling. Bob called him on his mobile.
‘Hello Bob,’ Alan said. ‘Have you found her?’
‘No. I’ve got a problem down here on the road leading up to Soldiers Point and the breakwater.’
‘What’s the problem?’
‘I’ve got about forty volunteers down here, most of them locals, some of them Michelle Branning’s family, insisting they are allowed to search the breakwater and the quarry park. Her mother is here mithering me about the ponds in the quarry.’
‘She’d be better off at home,’ Alan said.
‘She’s been on the vodka before she got here.’ Bob lowered his voice. ‘Emotions are running high. Tiffany has told her family she was spiked by men from the fairground and they’re putting two and two together and coming up with five. You can imagine the speculation going on,’ Bob said.
‘We don’t need an angry mob bouncing around the breakwater in the dark. Someone will end up in the sea,’ Alan said. A dull blaring sound drifted from the mountain. ‘There’s mist rolling in from the sea. The foghorn up on North Stack is sounding.’ Alan heard its deep mournful tone echoing from the mountain again. The sound was a warning to those at sea and those on land near the sea. Visibility was about to become a massive issue. ‘It won’t be long before that fog is on us.’
‘I can’t keep these people safe as it is. It’s pitch-black over here and quite a few of them are pissed. If the fog settles, we haven’t got a hope of knowing where they are. Most of them don’t have torches. They’re stumbling around in the dark shouting,’ Bob said. ‘More people are turning up all the time. Word is spreading across town and people want to help. The problem is most of the people turning up are pissed too. They’ve been at the fair all day.’
‘Don’t let any of them onto the breakwater road,’ Alan said. ‘It’s time to wind the search down for the night. Tell them the fog has brought a halt to everything. We’ll be back as soon as there’s daylight to search safely. It’s too dangerous now. Get your officers to cordon it off at the bottom of the Newry.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ Bob said. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll sort it out.’
Alan acquired backup from four uniformed sergeants as they crossed the fairground. Lottie pointed out the caravan. It was an Elddis and looked to be nearly new. Alan didn’t know a great deal about caravans but he knew they were expensive.
‘That is their caravan and that is their pickup truck,’ Lottie said. The Mitsibushi was this year’s model. The mechanics seemed to be doing well servicing the circus. The lights were on at the front of the caravan. A silhouette moved past the front window. Someone was home. As they neared, they could hear the television. They were watching a war film, gunfire and the boom-boom of artillery shells drifted to them. Alan walked around the caravan and knocked on the door.
‘Two of you cover the other side in case one of them makes a break for it through a window,’ Alan said. ‘Remember, we can’t arrest anyone yet. Hold them for questioning and we can’t search the truck or the caravan without their permission.’ The officers moved into position. Alan knocked again. The television was muted.
‘Who is it?’ a voice asked.
‘Police,’ Alan said. ‘We need to ask you a few questions.’
‘What about?’
‘Open the door before I come through it and take you away in handcuffs,’ Alan said. Lottie looked surprised.
‘Okay, okay. No need to be nasty,’ the man moaned. The door opened. It was David Prost. He looked worried. The smell of cannabis drifted to Alan. ‘What is all the knocking about?’
‘Police,’ Alan said, showing his warrant card. ‘Are you alone in there?’
‘Yes.’ David shrugged. He scratched his testicles and looked around. ‘This is a lot of policemen. What is the problem?’
‘We’re looking for this woman,’ Alan said, showing him a picture of Michelle on his phone. There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. His reactions appeared to be slow, dulled by the weed. ‘Have you seen her since this afternoon?’
‘I haven’t ever seen this woman,’ David said, shaking his head. ‘I don’t know her, so can I go back inside now.’
‘That is your one and only chance to lie to me,’ Alan said, showing him an image of the three men together. ‘This is you and your cousins sitting near Michelle and her sister in the Albert Vaults this afternoon. If you lie to me again, you’ll be in a cell so fast that your feet won’t touch the ground. We can start with possession of cannabis and see what else we can come up with. Do you understand me?’ David swallowed hard and nodded. Alan showed him an image of the sisters. ‘Good. I’ll ask you again. Have you seen this woman since this afternoon?’
‘No. I haven’t seen her since earlier today,’ David said. ‘That is the truth. We bought this lady some shots because it was her birthday but I didn’t talk to this one.’ He pointed to the images as he spoke. ‘She wasn’t so friendly. We offered them a lift to the fairground but this one told us to fuck off, so we did.’ He held up his hands. ‘I haven’t seen either of them since then. I have been working on a truck until late and then I had a shower and I’ve been watching a film. I’ve smoked a bit of cannabis, okay but I haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘Do you mind if we have a look around the caravan?’ Alan asked.
> ‘Look around for what?’
‘Her,’ Alan said, pointing to Michelle.
‘Let them look around, David,’ Lottie said. ‘It will take two minutes and you can get back to your film.’
‘No problem, Lottie,’ David said, stepping back. ‘I don’t want any trouble.’
‘Where are your cousins?’ Alan asked. ‘Carlos and Claus Vincentia.’
‘They have walked to the pub on the hill over there,’ he said, pointing towards the mountain. ‘The Victoria, I think it is called. They have been gone for hours. I bet they are pissed.’
Kim walked away and called the uniformed sergeant organising the search of the three pubs nearby. She told him the brothers were in the Vic. Alan and the uniformed officers went into the caravan. The air was thick with the smell of cannabis and sweaty men. Three pairs of oily boots were on a shoe rack next to the door. The fixtures were new but the caravan was untidy. Nothing matched. Carpets, curtains, blinds and soft furnishings were an assault on the senses. The kitchen section was cluttered with pots and pans. Dirty dishes filled the sink and a topless blond was the body of the month on a calendar sponsored by a brand of car paint. A cork notice board was covered in receipts and photographs. Alan looked at the photographs and waited while the sergeants checked the bedroom and bathroom. David sat on the settee looking nervous.
‘There is nobody here but me,’ David said. ‘We’re not criminals. We work hard. Lottie will tell you.’
‘The woman you bought shots for this afternoon was unwell after drinking them,’ Alan said. David blushed and looked away. ‘Would you know anything about that?’
‘Vodka makes people unwell,’ David said, shrugging. ‘She drank a few of them. We all did but her sister didn’t. She seemed like a nice lady. Very sensible.’ David folded his arms and sat back. ‘She told us to fuck off, so we fucked off. What are we supposed to do?’
‘The women think something was put into Tiffany’s shots,’ Alan said.
‘I don’t know anything about that,’ David said. ‘I bought a round of drinks, then Carlos bought one and then Claus bought the last one. Then the ladies left and we came back to the fair. They were fine when we left them. A little bit drunk but they were fine.’
‘There’s nothing here, sir,’ one of the sergeants said. ‘It’s all clear.’
‘We’ll need to talk to you again tomorrow,’ Alan said, stepping out of the van. ‘Thanks for your cooperation.’ He closed the door and from the corner of his eye, he caught David flicking his middle finger at him. He opened the door again. David blushed purple. ‘How old are you?’ Alan asked.
‘Twenty-six.’
‘Grow up and act like it,’ Alan said, closing the door again.
Chapter 19
Carlos and Claus Vincentia were half-brothers. Carlos was the older by a year. Their mother was German. She’d been a bar maid in Dusseldorf most of her life. After a string of lousy relationships, she married the owner of an Irish bar in the Alt Strat area of the city. He was thirty years her senior. Her husband was father to neither of her sons and wanted nothing to do with them from day one. He wanted to fuck Elsa and unfortunately for him, her children were part of the deal. They came as a three-person package. The relationship was beyond stormy; it was violent. Elsa liked to drink and when she drank, she made poor decisions about the men she flirted with. Often, the flirting went much further, especially when her husband was so drunk, he had to go upstairs to their apartment to sleep. Elsa would entertain her male friends in the bar until stupid o’clock in the morning. Her husband would wake up, rough from drinking and interrogate her about the night before. He was insanely jealous. It was a cocktail of infidelity and deceit.
When Elsa unexpectedly had a stroke and died, the brothers were fifteen and sixteen, respectively. Their stepfather buried their mother and promptly threw them out onto the street the next day. The boys spent several weeks sleeping on the streets, making enough money to eat by begging and collecting empty bottles from the bins and cashing them in. They slept in doorways and in unoccupied boats on the river until a travelling fair arrived on the opposite side of the river. The fairground was huge with over a hundred stalls and attractions and luckily for them, they were short staffed. Manual labourers were needed desperately to continuously empty the litter bins. Litter in Germany is a huge no-no, and the fairground could only operate if it was self-functional and had no impact on the city’s resources. Cleaning the litter bins and brushing the streets in the vicinity was down to the fairground operators. The boys worked hard and were likeable. They were given bunks with some of the travellers and became a permanent addition. Over the following five years, they learned how to set up and strip down the equipment and maintain the engines on the rides and on their vehicles. Nearly ten years ago, on a trip to the UK, they were spotted by Ben Bronski and they began working for him. Two years ago, he offered them a job with the Edward’s operation. The job was simple. Keep the rides in good condition, the MOT’S in date and the circus vehicles moving. Bronski paid on time and he paid well and there were always opportunities to make bonuses. Their cousin David Prost had kept in touch on social media and joined them a year into their new venture. They got on okay but David was made to feel like an intruder. The brothers were a unit. Their upbringing had made them dependent on one another. The trip to Holyhead was exciting. Wales was a part of the world they hadn’t explored and Ireland lay ahead. They had researched it and it was the land of green-eyed beauties and Guinness. Ben had insinuated there was a chance to earn a decent bonus too. It was all good.
In the meantime, they intended to enjoy the hospitality Holyhead had to offer. They were on their seventh pint in the Vic when the police walked in. The pub went quiet apart from Adele on the jukebox. She was still setting fire to the rain. Carlos was chatting up a pretty teenager called Cheryl and his brother was unsuccessfully trying to entertain her overweight friend, Candice. He had even offered to buy her some pork scratchings but apparently, she was on a diet. The brothers were oblivious when the police walked through the drinkers over to their table. The locals watched them with interest.
‘Good evening ladies. Have these gentlemen bought you any drinks this evening?’ Sergeant Gerrard asked.
‘They might have. We’re old enough to drink,’ Cheryl said. The girls smirked but looked nervous. ‘Do you want to see my ID?’
‘I don’t need to see any ID but if they have bought you those drinks, don’t drink them.’ Some of the regulars were listening to the conversation. A hush settled over the lounge. ‘They might contain a little something you won’t like,’ he said, winking.
‘Are they spiking women?’ Cheryl asked.
‘That’s what we’re here to check,’ the sergeant said, nodding. ‘At it again are we, gentlemen?’
‘What are you talking about?’ Carlos asked. He looked at the exits. One led to the toilets, the other went to the front door. There were too many regulars between them and the doors. ‘We haven’t done anything?’
‘I think you know what I’m talking about.’ The sergeant studied his response. His expression said he was nervous. Guilty of something. Sergeant Gerrard could spot a guilty man from a mile away. He didn’t know what he was guilty of but he was guilty.
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ Carlos said. He sipped his pint. ‘We’re just having a drink after work and chatting to these young ladies. What’s the problem?’
‘We need a word with both of you,’ sergeant Gerrard said. He lowered his voice. ‘Probably better if we go outside then we won’t disturb George and his customers,’ he added, nodding to George Doutch behind the bar. George gave him the thumbs-up. He was a popular landlord known by everyone in town. Seeing a police officer in the Vic was rare unless they had a pint in their hand and their own clothes on. The brothers looked at each other. They spoke in German. Sergeant Gerrard didn’t know what was said but the tone was aggressive. ‘Don’t cause a fuss in here. There’s no need to do anything si
lly,’ the sergeant said, sensing their nerves. ‘We just want to ask you some questions.’
‘What about?’ Claus asked. He grabbed his coat and put it on. ‘This is shit. It this because we are with the fair?’
‘It won’t take long. Come on outside.’
‘We don’t have to go anywhere with you if we don’t want to.’ Carlos said.
‘You don’t have to come with me but for your own sake, you should,’ sergeant Gerrard said.
‘Unless you tell us what this is about, we’re not going anywhere,’ Carlos said. ‘It’s up to you but we’re not moving.’
‘Okay. I didn’t want to cause a stir in here but there’s a young woman missing.’ The pub became silent. ‘She was last seen at the fairground and we need to ask you some questions about it. It’s all routine. We can do it here but it would be much better for you and everyone in here if we do it outside.’
‘Are they anything to do with Chelle Branning going missing?’ one of the customers asked.
‘They’re as good as dead if they are,’ another said. The locals were beginning to get agitated. ‘Have they got something to do with it?’
‘Are they fucking nonces?’
‘Dirty pikeys,’ someone shouted from the other bar. ‘If they’ve touched Chelle Branning, hang them from a tree.’
‘This is what I was worried about.’ He gestured behind him to the glaring locals. Alcohol was fuelling the flames. ‘I think we should go outside,’ the sergeant said, lowering his voice. ‘For your own sake. There are only three of us. We can’t protect you if this turns nasty.’
