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

by Conrad Jones

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘One more thing. I need you to put this under your pillow,’ Tommy said. ‘You sleep on the top bunk, right?’

  ‘Yes,’ Donny said. He took what looked like a toothbrush from him. The brushes had been removed and three razorblades melted into the plastic head. ‘I don’t want anything to do with this,’ Donny complained, shaking his head.

  ‘Fine, then I’ll get the boys to hold you down while I cut your cock off with this.’

  ‘No. There’s no need for that.’ Donny took the evil looking blade and put it in his pocket. ‘I’ll do it.’

  ‘I thought you would,’ Tommy said. ‘Do as I’ve told you, and I’ll make sure no one in here touches you while you serve your sentence.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Go on then,’ Tommy said. ‘Fuck off.’

  ***********************************************

  Chod Hall walked into the Victoria Inn with Richard Lewis. They checked the vault to see who was in. A couple of the locals were leaning at the bar chatting. Chod recognised two of them as local painters. They said hello and the detectives went into the bar. The barmaid spotted them immediately.

  ‘They’re over there,’ she said, pointing to the pool table. ‘George said to call you if they came in.’

  ‘Thanks Anne,’ Chod said. They walked over to the pool table. The three men standing there looked flustered. ‘Barry Coop,’ Chod said. ‘Just the man I’m looking for.’

  ‘I haven’t done anything,’ Barry said.

  ‘You lost your wallet,’ Chod said.

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because I found it in the marsh,’ Chod said. ‘You dropped it when you were running away from the quarry road after dropping a block onto Trevor Branning’s head,’ Chod said, holding up the wallet in an evidence bag.

  ‘We didn’t do that,’ Wilf Jones said, taking his shot.

  ‘Who mentioned you?’ Chod asked.

  ‘I’m just saying,’ Wilf said.

  ‘We didn’t know it was Trevor,’ Barry said. The others looked at him, horrified.

  ‘You fucking idiot,’ Wilf said.

  ‘I think we should take a look in the boot of your vehicles,’ Chod said. ‘And before you think about bullshitting me, George has given us the CCTV footage from the pub. It shows, you three idiots going to your vehicles to arm yourselves with a couple of baseball bats and a tyre iron, before you jump the stile into the fields. Now, one of you couldn’t move that block and I’m quite sure, two of you would struggle, so when the forensics come back, I’m putting my money on it saying the three of you moved that block and pushed it onto Trevor.’

  ‘I told you it was a shit idea,’ Barry said, to Wilf. ‘Why do I listen to you?’

  ‘You’re all under arrest,’ Richard said.

  ‘What’s the charge?’ Wilf asked.

  ‘Being a fucking idiot will do for a start,’ Chod said. ‘Come on.’

  Chapter 47

  Donny checked the landing for screws and walked into the cell. He pushed the door closed. His heart was beating like a drum. Carlos was lying on his bunk reading. Donny wanted to tell him what was about to happen but was too frightened.

  ‘I’m going for a shower,’ Donny said. ‘Do you want a puff before I go?’

  ‘What have you got?’

  ‘Fuck knows,’ Donny said. ‘I got it from one of the Wrexham blokes. They always have good weed.’

  ‘Why did they give you a smoke?’

  ‘I paid for it,’ Donny lied. He lit it and took a drag. ‘Here get your lips around this.’

  Carlos took the joint and inhaled deeply. He held the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds before exhaling. Donny took the shank from his pocket and hid it under his pillow. Carlos took three long pulls on the joint. He wasn’t in a rush to give it back to Donny. Donny grabbed his towel and shampoo.

  ‘Don’t you want any more?’ Carlos asked, inhaling again.

  ‘No. It’s too strong for me. I’m off to the showers. See you in a bit,’ Donny said, Heading towards the door in a hurry.

  Carlos coughed and grabbed his chest. His eyes widened as if they would pop out of his head. His hands began to shake and then his entire body went into spasm. Donny couldn’t move. White foam dribbled from the corner of his cellmate’s mouth, flecked with blood. A gurgling sound came from his throat. The door opened and two cons walked in. One of them retrieved the shank from beneath Donny’s pillow, the other took out a phone and began to take pictures. The con with the blade striped Carlos across the face. Three bloody lines appeared and his nose hung from a piece of cartilage. The man repeatedly drew the razorblades across his flesh until he was no longer recognisable. His skin was sliced to ribbons. All the time his body was jerking like a fish out of water. Donny couldn’t watch anymore. He grabbed his towel and ran out of the door.

  Chapter 48

  12 months later

  Alan was sitting at his desk when an email from Interpol arrived. It was an update from Sri Lanka. The year before, his communication about the bar owner Nok, had been received and a courteous reply sent back to him, basically saying thank you and mind your own business. This was the first time he had heard anything from them since. The message read that the bar owner had vanished many years ago and a brief investigation revealed he was a conman with many enemies. They assumed he had taken off for his own safety or been murdered. The bar had been sold to pay the taxes he owed the government and was being run by a local couple and was very popular with tourists, none of whom had gone missing. The subject was closed. Alan wondered what had happened to him for a few seconds and then it was gone. He didn’t have time to speculate. His phone rang.

  ‘DI Williams,’ he answered.

  ‘Alan it’s Del from HMP Manchester,’ Del said. He was originally from Valley and was the assistant warden. Manchester was the closest category-A prison to North Wales. ‘I have news about your man Benaim Bronski.’

  ‘Ah,’ Alan said. ‘Is it good news?’

  ‘Depends on your standpoint,’ Del said. ‘He’s been found hanging in the laundry. They cut him down early this morning. He went to the infirmary but he’d been gone too long for them to do anything other than confirm his death.’

  ‘Did he jump or was he pushed?’ Alan asked.

  ‘Too early to say, to be honest,’ Del said. ‘It’s been no secret certain fellow Russians wanted him silenced. My money is on him being pushed but no one saw anything. He’s a big lump of a man and the sheets were plaited together to hold his weight. I’m not sure he had time to do that without someone seeing him do it. I don’t suppose we’ll ever know. There were nine other cons in the laundry but none of them saw anything.’

  ‘Of course, they didn’t’,’ Alan said. ‘It’s a cat-A prison. Seeing anything in there comes with a public health warning, doesn’t it?’

  ‘We try our best but if the residents want to kill each other, they can be pretty inventive and determined. That’s why they’re in here in the first place. They’re naughty.’ Del laughed, hoarsely. ‘On a positive note, it’s saved the public an absolute fortune in legal and custodial bills. Bronski would have gone through all the appeal process protesting his innocence and still been in here until he was dribbling in his soup. Whatever happened, it’s done us all a favour. If you ask me.’

  ‘Say it as it is, Del,’ Alan said. ‘Don’t beat around the bush.’

  ‘I’ll call you if we find anything interesting.’

  ‘I won’t hold my breath,’ Alan said, ‘Or lose any sleep over it. Take care, Del.’

  Alan sat back in his chair and took a half bottle of single malt from his desk. He poured a nip into a crystal glass that he kept in his bottom drawer and raised it to those who died at the hands of Bronski and his poisonous network. The whisky burned and soothed simultaneously. It would take a few more to relax him enough to sleep that night. Or any night.

  Chapter 49

  Reggie Quinn lit a cigar and puffed it until th
e end glowed red. He inhaled the smoke and let it fill his lungs. It was a Montecristo. Reggie and Len had been partial to the odd Montecristo. It was cigar smoking which had done the damage to Len’s lungs. Reggie took out a silver hipflask and opened it. He swigged the Haig malt and let it burn his tongue before he swallowed it.

  ‘Cheers Len,’ he said to the headstone. Len had been buried in a family plot, three months after he’d finally laid Leo to rest. His deterioration following the discovery of Leo’s body and his subsequent burial, was dramatic. It was as if he’d given up fighting. ‘I hope you’re at the bar with your Leo, raising a glass together. We miss you down here. It’s not the same without you around.’ Reggie sucked on the cigar and took another slug of whisky. ‘Sorry this one took so long but they put the bastard into solitary after we hit the Vincentia scum.’ He took out his phone and scrolled through some pictures. ‘There he is. The last of the bunch. David Prost. They cut off his head with a spade on gardening detail.’ Reggie smiled and raised a toast. ‘They stuck his head on a bamboo stake, which was holding up broad beans. Look at that,’ he laughed and showed the image to the headstone. ‘Now that shows imagination.’ Reggie shook his head. ‘I’m sure you’re laughing wherever you are. Rest in peace my old friend. I’ll see you on the other side.’

  The End

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