Circus of Nightmares: Death is the Ultimate Illusion (The Anglesey Mysteries Book 2)

by Conrad Jones

  ‘That was her mother’s house. She died a few years back. Mary rented it out and kept her Irish passport.’ Lottie explained. ‘She flew to Malaga last week for a break. That’s why she had it.’

  ‘Did she go alone?’

  ‘I don’t think so but I can’t be sure.’

  ‘Best we stick to what we know is a fact,’ Alan said. ‘We can come back to that later. Do you know what she was doing in Rhosneiger yesterday?’

  ‘We have a rough idea,’ Lottie said. She looked at Liz and Liz squeezed her hand. ‘Mary has been in a toxic on off relationship with a man called Benaim Bronski for years. None of us are exactly sure how long it has been going on as she kept it secret from us until recently.’

  ‘Benaim Bronski,’ Alan said, writing it down. ‘You’ve mentioned his name to me before.’

  ‘Yes,’ Lottie said. ‘He supplies us with fuel and employs the Vincentia brothers and David Prost. The mobile workshop belongs to him.’

  ‘That’s interesting,’ Alan said, writing. ‘So, Mary went to meet Benaim Bronski yesterday?’

  ‘Yes, but we didn’t know where she was meeting him or why,’ Lottie said. ‘She didn’t come back to her trailer last night and we saw the news this morning.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘That’s the first we knew of it.’

  ‘What do you know about Benaim Bronski?’ Alan asked. The women looked sheepish. ‘Come on. He sells fuel to you but neither of you like him, that’s obvious.’

  ‘Is it that obvious?’ Lottie asked.

  ‘Yes. Don’t ever play poker. So, what does he do that you don’t like?’ Alan asked.

  ‘There are always rumours about what he does outside of the fuel business,’ Lottie said.

  ‘What are the rumours?’

  ‘We think he might be involved in smuggling, using his tankers,’ Liz said, interrupting. Lottie looked taken aback. Alan caught her expression. Liz had crossed a line she didn’t want to cross. It was too late now; the door had been opened.

  ‘Smuggling?’ Alan asked, looking at them both.

  ‘Yes. We think so.’ Liz paused.

  ‘You think so?’ Alan asked, smiling.

  ‘We’re quite sure,’ Liz said. She looked at Lottie and frowned. ‘In fact, we know he’s involved in smuggling with his tankers.’ Lottie shook her head, wide-eyed. ‘Don’t be angry with me. I’m sick to the back teeth of lying.’

  ‘Under the circumstances, it would be prudent to put your cards on the table and tell me the truth,’ Alan said. ‘Your friend is dead and you might be able to point me in the direction of the killer.’ Lottie nodded to Liz to carry on. ‘How can you be sure he’s smuggling?’

  ‘Mary told me, Bronski persuaded her to smuggle five Africans across the channel from France when we crossed in September,’ she said. Lottie looked shocked.

  ‘I didn’t know that at the time,’ Lottie said. She threw Liz a withering glance.

  ‘When did you become aware of it?’ Alan asked, slightly amused by Liz’s frankness.

  ‘This morning,’ Lottie said. ‘Liz and Mary thought it best to keep it from me.’ She smirked at Liz. ‘Didn’t you, sneaky buggers, you are.’

  ‘I told her when we heard the news about Mary,’ Liz said. ‘Benaim is a bully. I think she would have done it thinking she was helping the people he was smuggling and keeping him happy at the same time. I’m certain he persuaded Mary to put people in her caravan. That means the Vincentia brothers smuggled people too.’

  ‘Did she agree to do it?’ Alan asked.

  ‘Yes. She felt sorry for them. She told me, all they wanted was the chance of a life better than the one they left and Mary thought she was helping.’ Liz started crying. ‘The women she hid had been in one of the camps near Calais for months. They had absolutely nothing. The women were prostituting themselves for food and blankets. Bronski played on her heart strings. He knew she couldn’t say no.’

  ‘Under the circumstances, it would be difficult for her to say no,’ Alan said. ‘Because of your experience in Sri Lanka.’

  ‘The thing is, Bronski was getting paid, thousands I heard. He would contact families to collect payment. They fell out about it. Mary was furious,’ Liz said, angrily. ‘Mary wouldn’t have taken a penny. I know she wouldn’t.’

  ‘Can I just add that we didn’t know anything about this until after the event,’ Lottie said, looking at Liz as if she wanted to slap her. She smiled and shook her head. ‘If I had known, I would have been very annoyed. Mary is her own person and what she does in her own trailer is up to her. She’s a grown woman. Even if I don’t approve of her choice in men. I couldn’t have stopped her. Each owner is responsible for their own vehicles and trailers and what’s in them when we cross borders. I don’t have eyes in the back of my head.’

  ‘I get that,’ Alan said. ‘How did she smuggle five Africans in her trailer?’ he asked, frowning.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Each vehicle is checked at the port,’ Alan said. ‘They weren’t sitting in the living room watching the television.’

  ‘Oh, I see. The Vincentia brothers adapted her trailer,’ Liz said. Lottie rolled her eyes skyward.

  ‘How do you know that?’ Lottie asked.

  ‘She told me not to tell you,’ Liz said. ‘She knew you would be mad with her.’ She shrugged and held Lottie’s hand. ‘They did something to her bedroom so that people could be under the bed but the heat sensors can’t detect them. She told me they altered it somehow. I didn’t see it because I didn’t want to know all the details but that’s what they did.’ Liz shrugged. Lottie smiled. ‘There. I feel better now. I’ve been telling her for years to leave him alone. He’s bad news, always has been. I wouldn’t leave him to look after my parrot. He’d sell it or eat it. Bastard.’ Alan remained quiet. ‘How did she die?’

  ‘She fell from a balcony,’ Alan said.

  ‘Fell or was pushed?’ Lottie asked.

  ‘There was an altercation,’ Alan said. ‘We think she was trying to get away from someone when she fell.’

  ‘Oh god. She hated heights,’ Liz said.

  ‘I don’t think she had much time to think about it,’ Alan said.

  ‘That’s a good thing, I suppose,’ Liz sniffled.

  ‘She died instantly when her head hit the concrete,’ Alan said, sipping his coffee. Another stupid thing to say, he thought. Liz sobbed harder. He’d thought telling her would help deal with the situation. Clearly too much detail. ‘Do you have a picture of him?’

  Lottie searched her phone and found an image of him. Benaim Bronski had been burned. He was scarred on his neck and one side of his face. His hair was missing in places.

  ‘He had an accident when he was delivering fuel many years ago,’ Lottie said. Alan noticed a tick in her eyes when she lied. Why she would lie about Bronski’s scars was a mystery. That question could wait until another time.

  ‘Where will we find Benaim Bronski?’ Alan asked Lottie.

  ‘I’ve got his mobile number but he hasn’t been answering it,’ Lottie said.

  ‘But it is on and it’s ringing?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s all we need to track him.’ Alan stood up. ‘This information hasn’t been released yet but there were nine Syrian women in the house where Mary Adams died. They were waiting for passage to Ireland.’ Alan looked out of the window, thinking about what he’d learned. ‘Now I have spoken to you, I think Mr Bronski may have been trying to persuade Mary to smuggle some of them over to Ireland with the circus. Obviously, she said no this time,’ he said. ‘It would explain the altercation. We’ll need a full statement but there’s no rush. I’ll have a detective call at your trailer later on today.’

  ‘As long as it’s before six-thirty,’ Lottie said. ‘The show tonight is sold out.’

  ‘The show must go on, eh?’ Alan said.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘I’ll say goodbye for now,’ Alan said, standing up. The women stood and picked up their bags, keys
and coats. They headed for the door. ‘Thanks for coming in.’

  ‘No problem,’ Lottie said.

  ‘What was the name of the bar in Sri Lank?’ Alan asked. Lottie looked stunned. ‘Where you were held captive,’ he added.

  ‘Forgotten Beach,’ Lottie said. He could see the wheels turning in her mind. ‘Why?’

  ‘I’ll drop a line to Interpol. If there are traffickers still working in the area, they should know about it,’ Alan said. ‘It might stop it happening to other lone travellers. It certainly doesn’t hurt to flag these things up.’

  ‘It was a long time ago,’ Lottie said.

  ‘Some people never learn, especially criminals,’ Alan said. ‘This man Nok could be back out on the streets by now, doing the same thing again. It can’t hurt to have the place checked out by the locals.’

  ‘No. Of course not,’ Lottie said. She smiled and walked out of the room. What had happened to their captor, Nok was something they never spoke about but his end was swift and brutal. The twins arrived at the bar and broke him and several of his henchmen. Their bodies were dismembered in his own kitchen and scattered into the sea from his own boat.

  Chapter 26

  Alan and Kim were holding an update briefing for the team. There were sixty detectives working across the cases, drafted in from Caernarfon and St Asaph. The initial confusion about the Rhosneiger incident was becoming clearer. Carlton Barrymore from the National Crime Agency had joined them to offer advice. The NCA were keen to be involved in anything to do with trafficking. It was their current hot potato. Over the last eighteen months, their interest in Benaim Bronski had become more intense, only trumped by their interest in Dr Gerard Telford and his wife Elisha. DCI Barrymore and his colleagues were not surprised the Telfords had wound up dead. They were swimming out of their depth. The fact they were intrinsically linked to Bronski had made the trip to North Wales worthwhile. Detective Chief Inspector Carlton Barrymore was a black officer from the West End of London. His mind was as sharp as his suits and his positive attitude was refreshing. He had high cheekbones, wide shoulders and pockmarked skin. His cockney accent was a dead giveaway as to where he grew up. Alan liked him immediately. Once the final few detectives had shuffled into the room, Alan called the gathering to order.

  ‘We need to rattle through a lot this morning, so let’s get on with it,’ Alan said. ‘It’s important you take away what is relevant to your piece of the investigation but don’t lose sight of the bigger picture. This is a complex operation as it stands and I would gauge it’s going to take a few more twists and turns before we know exactly what we’re looking at and who we’re looking for.’ He turned towards the Anglesey detectives. ‘Locally, the investigation into the murder of Michelle Branning is the focus for teams A and B. Any interaction with the press goes through me and me only,’ he said. The detectives nodded they understood. ‘One wrong word to the local press and the town could react against the travellers. We need to play down their involvement in public. The involvement of David Prost and the Vincentia brothers means it’s running parallel to the Rhosneiger investigation, linked because they work for our prime suspect, Benaim Bronski.’ The detectives in the room were focused on images of the suspects on digital screens. ‘Carlos Vincentia, Claus Vincentia and David Prost are German nationals with clean records. Europol are digging for us. There may be charges pending in Germany relevant to our investigation. They operate a vehicle mechanic service to the fairground and its community, which means they travel with it. It appears they’ve been involved in smuggling migrants in their trailer across the channel at the bequest of Bronski and they may have been about to transport the Syrian women found in Rhosneiger.’ Alan pointed to their images. ‘These three men are our favourites for taking Michelle Branning simply because we know they drugged Tiffany and Michelle.’ He shrugged. ‘That is a fact and we have it happening on CCTV. Tiffany felt the effects almost immediately, because she’d consumed more alcohol. Michelle didn’t drink any shots and so the drug took longer to take effect on her.’ Alan emphasised the point. ‘We have them on CCTV putting white powder in the Branning sister’s drinks. Fact. Is this the first time they have used Flunitrazepam to drug women for sex?’ Alan scanned the faces in the room. The shaking heads and murmurs indicated everyone was of the same opinion. ‘This is not their first foray to trap females. I’ll put money on it.’ Alan turned to Richard Lewis and his team. ‘Richard, I want you to track where the circus has been for the last eighteen months. See if there are any similar cases reported. We’re looking for women who think they may have been drugged and assaulted. There will be more of them out there, guaranteed.’

  ‘We’ll get on it,’ Richard said. Their dates and venues will be on the internet.’

  ‘We have Claus but we need to find these two,’ Alan said, showing the images of Prost and Carlos. Kim took over.

  ‘We interviewed Claus this morning and charged him with administering drugs for sex after he was advised to make a no comment interview by his awfully expensive brief,’ Kim said. ‘Henry Graff works for Graff, Gladstone and Brookes based in Chester. Some of you will have dealt with them before. They are the big guns for organised crime families in Liverpool and Manchester, Chester and Wirral. The Vincentia brothers couldn’t afford to hire that company but their employer, Benaim Bronski can. If he’s prepared to fork out that kind of money to defend them, then there’s a good reason why. He wants them out of the cells ASAP. Whatever Bronski is up to, these three men are involved and he needs to guarantee their silence.’ The images of their pitch at the fairground appeared. ‘They have a trailer, which they share and a mobile workshop and are continually on the move. It’s the perfect cover for moving people and contraband.’

  An image of Benaim Bronski appeared on the screens. He was handsome in a rugged way, even with the burns. His left cheek and ear were scarred, the hair missing. His physique had been built by manual work and pumping iron for many years. The image of Mary Adams appeared. It was obviously a passport photograph.

  ‘Benaim Bronski has been in a relationship with this woman, Mary Adams who died at this house in Rhosneiger. She has worked for the circus for over twelve years. We know Bronski persuaded Mary Adams to have her trailer adapted to accommodate five African nationals on the crossing from Calais to Dover.’ Alan pointed back to the Vincentia brothers. ‘Carlos and Claus made the alterations to her trailer. The going rate for transport across the channel in a vehicle is twenty-grand. Obviously, it’s cheaper to cross by dingy but the odds of surviving are less. We’re quite sure the Vincentia vehicles smuggled more too.’ Alan waited for the images to change. ‘So, we know Bronski moves people and we know he’s been in a relationship with Mary Adams, who died in this house in Rhosneiger. The house belongs to a limited company owned by Doctor Gerard Telford and his wife Elisha. They were found dead along with Elisha’s parents, George and Mildred Troutman in the cellar.’ He looked towards Carlton Barrymore. ‘Chief Inspector Barrymore from the NCA is going to brief us on the Telfords.’

  ‘Doctor Telford appeared on our radar about five years ago when he began buying up properties around the West End. Mostly old pubs and big retail units that had gone out of business and been empty for over two years. If a property is empty for a certain length of time, there’s no need to apply for planning permission for change of use. The period varies from borough to borough but Telford appeared to be doing his research cleverly,’ Carlton began. ‘At face value, it sounds like a wealthy man trying to make his money work for him but he bought fifteen properties over eighteen months, which in the West End is some going. They were converted into flats, high end quality properties with top of the range appliances, fixtures and fittings and they were all flipped within six months, bought by one of three companies registered in Dubai. We all know doctors working in the private sector can earn a lot of money but this type of development costs millions for each site.’ Images of the flats appeared. They were impressive buildings. ‘He couldn’t cashflo
w this type of development, so we wanted to know where the money was coming from. The money went into businesses in Dubai, Ukraine and Moscow and never came back, which means the Inland Revenue never got their sticky mitts on any of it.’ A ripple of amusement ran through the room. ‘Something fishy was going on so, we began surveillance of all their activities. The good doctors bought a number of rundown retail units in Dubai and renovated them. The units were rented out to legitimate businesses selling prestige cars on the ground floor and they built surgeries above them. They had four surgeries up and running and another two under construction. The entire Dubai business was simply the machine to wash millions of pounds of serious organised crime money for a Russian cartel run by Hector Karpov.’ Carlton let the information sink in. The image of the house on the Rhosneiger beachfront appeared. ‘What were they doing on Anglesey, I hear you ask. Gerard Telford was a clever man. He knew that once the machine was in motion and the money was being laundered, they would become superfluous to requirements. He didn’t want to be a long-term asset for the Karpovs. Elisha Telford was never comfortable with their association with them. They developed an exit strategy and bought this house, another in Bari, Italy and a villa in Naples, Florida. He bought them to hide his own money from the Inland Revenue and to make them difficult to find when they retired. They had this bolthole renovated for when they broke away from the operation.’ He pointed to the house. ‘A lovely spot and beautifully renovated. It was also fitted with a secure room where contraband could be stored while passage from Holyhead to Dublin could be secured. It was a perfect plan except the Karpovs wouldn’t accept his retirement notice. No one walks away knowing what the Telfords knew. Doctor Telford began squirreling money away, ready to leave but he’d massively underestimated the Russian machine. They realised what was going on and threatened Elisha’s parents. The Telfords panicked and ran here to try and hide them from harm but there’s no hiding from this type of operation.’ He changed the image. Benaim Bronski appeared. ‘Bronski is a Russian national. He’s been feeding on the scraps of the Karpov empire for decades, moving product and people for them. He’s a bottom feeder but a wealthy one. In turn for what he does for them, they supply him with fuel at a massive discount. The businesses fit hand in glove until Brexit happened. Brexit changed everything at Holyhead. Everyone was so focused on there not being a hard border on Ireland that they failed to realise that the border would be the Irish Sea itself and Holyhead would become the checkpoint Charlie between the UK and the EU. Everything is being searched, checked, probed and measured. Bronski had a shipment of people to move to Ireland who had paid half their fare upfront to the Karpovs. The other half would only be paid when they reached their destination and that was Bronski’s share and he wanted his money. He had to come up with a plan-B but the Telfords turned up with their relatives before the women were shipped from Calais. Whatever happened, there must have been a dispute, which ended in the Telfords and their relations being restrained in the cellar.’