The Anglesey Murders Box Set

by Conrad Jones

  ‘That’s it?’ Owen said.

  ‘That’s it,’ Jamie said. ‘You keep your business and get a second mechanic. I’ll clear your overdraft and your Europarts account as a gesture of goodwill and all you do is let my mechanic work on two cars a week in one of your bays.’

  ‘I’m confused, Jamie,’ Owen said. ‘You walk in here like my fairy godmother and expect me to just say yes?’

  ‘Have you got mobile banking on your phone?’ Jamie asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Check your account,’ Jamie said. Owen took out his phone and logged on. He shook his head suspiciously as he looked at the screen. ‘Your overdraft this morning was over fifteen-grand. Now you’re in credit. The money was paid in by a haulage company in Llandegfan. No links to me whatsoever.’ Owen looked up and shook his head.

  ‘Where’s the money from?’

  ‘We took the liberty of buying a Mercedes van from an auction for you last month. Here’s the V5 document and here’s the seller’s slip. They’re all in your name,’ Jamie said, handing the documents to Owen. ‘You sold it to the haulage company yesterday at a considerable profit and the money was paid into your account this morning.’

  ‘This is well dodgy. I don’t want anything to do with this,’ Owen said. ‘I’ll transfer the money back.’

  ‘Check the documents, Owen,’ Jamie said. ‘It’s all legitimate. That’s your money. No one can trace it back to me.’

  Owen studied the papers. Everything looked as it should do. ‘Why are you doing this, Jamie?’

  ‘I’ve told you. I’m buying a taxi firm and I’m going to be buying and selling vehicles. I need somewhere Daisy can work on my motors. Somewhere with a good reputation.’

  ‘What will he be doing to your vehicles, Jamie?’ Owen asked. His stomach was churning. The offer to be lifted out from the crushing weight of debt was mouth-watering. Seeing his account in the black was a massive relief but it was all too good to be true.

  ‘I’m going to buy ex-company cars, service them, tart them up a bit, and sell them on. There’s nothing to worry about.’

  ‘There’s everything to worry about.’

  ‘What is the problem?’

  ‘You. You’re the problem.’

  ‘What are you saying to me?’

  ‘You’re a drug dealer, Jamie.’

  ‘I’m hurt by that remark.’ Jamie touched his heart and frowned.

  ‘Everyone on the island knows you’re not just a drug dealer, you’re the drug dealer.’

  ‘Now I’m flattered, thank you.’

  ‘Don’t take the piss out of me. You’re the top dog in the cocaine business and everyone knows that, so why would you need to venture into motors?’ Owen asked. He shrugged. ‘The way I see it, you’re either laundering money by buying and selling vehicles or you’re using the vehicles to traffic coke; stashing your product somewhere in the chassis or the engine blocks. Either way, I’m putting a gun to my head by being complicit. My business might be struggling but I’d rather struggle than be in a prison cell. I have grandchildren on the way.’

  ‘You’re a clever man, Owen,’ Jamie said, smiling. He patted Owen on the shoulder. ‘No one will be able to touch you. You’re a legitimate businessman with integrity. No one would look sideways at your workshop. Why would they? Nothing changes on the surface; you fix cars and charge a fair price. No one apart from us three and Daisy will know anything about it.’ Jamie shrugged. ‘There will be no link back to me that anyone can trace. Not ever.’

  ‘No one else knows?’

  ‘Not a soul.’

  ‘What about your crew?’

  ‘No one but us, Tony, and Daisy. I keep my business close to my chest. You know what this town is like. Everyone knows everybody’s business. I have to be careful. I need you to take me up on this deal, Owen. You have my word that there’ll be no tangible connection between me and your business.’

  ‘What about the taxi firm in Bangor?’ Owen asked.

  ‘My name won’t be anywhere on the books for that company. The only person who knows I’m buying it, is you,’ Jamie said. ‘I’ve done a lot of preparation to make this work for you.’

  ‘This is a lot to take in, Jamie.’

  ‘Of course, it is. Why don’t you sleep on it and we’ll talk tomorrow?’ Jamie said. ‘My advice would be to keep this to yourself. Don’t discuss it with the wife.’

  ‘She’s the last person I’d be talking to,’ Owen said. ‘Let me think about it.’

  ‘Tony will drop in tomorrow. No calls or texts between us,’ Jamie said, offering his hand. ‘This is a no-brainer. Don’t pass it up.’ They shook hands and Jamie walked back to his Range Rover. Tony climbed into the passenger seat and they drove away. Owen watched them disappear around the bend. He looked up and closed his eyes. The more he thought about it, the more attractive the deal was. He couldn’t see any downsides. What could possibly go wrong?

  CHAPTER 7

  DI Alan Williams was halfway across the island when his phone rang. Snowdonia dominated the skyline in front of him, its peaks covered in snow. The sun was reflecting from it, dazzling him. The radio went off as the Bluetooth connected an incoming call.

  ‘Alan, it’s Dafyd.’

  ‘Good morning,’ Alan said. ‘Is all well?’

  ‘I’ve just had the most bizarre phone call,’ Dafyd said.

  ‘It’s too early for bizarre.’

  ‘Bizarre it is, all the same. There’s some good news and some bad news.’

  ‘You pick which we do first,’ Alan said.

  ‘The good news is both victims from Trearddur are in the system. Their prints hit right away. The bad news is, their information is classified.’

  ‘What?’ Alan said. ‘Classified. They must be on the informer list.’

  ‘That’s what I thought but it’s worse than that,’ Dafyd said.

  ‘Worse than that?’ Alan said. It dawned on him. ‘Are they in the job?’

  ‘Yes. I received a call from the Assistant Chief Constable of Merseyside. Both men are officers from their Matrix unit. He said they were working an undercover operation. They were investigating a link to the supply chain of class As to the North Wales area. Until he’s spoken to their families and been briefed on exactly what they were onto, they’re not to be named.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Alan said. ‘That complicates things. Someone must have blown their cover. It would explain how they ended up in the sea, poor buggers.’

  ‘We’re going to have to tread carefully on this,’ Dafyd said. ‘Are you on your way in?’

  ‘Yes. I’m twenty minutes away.’

  ‘I’ll see you at the briefing.’

  ‘Yes. See you there.’

  The call ended and the music came back on. Alan turned it down to think. There was something bugging him but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He scrolled through his contacts and found the number he wanted. It was probably unethical to make the call but he wasn’t going to let that stand in his way. The phone rang three times and answered.

  ‘Major investigation team,’ the voice answered.

  ‘Google,’ Alan said. ‘It’s DI Williams from Holyhead.’

  ‘Hello, Alan,’ Google said. ‘I thought I might get a call from you sooner or later.’

  ‘Really, why’s that?’ Alan asked.

  ‘I’ve just heard you pulled two UCs out of the sea. The word is that they’re ours, Matrix apparently. It’s classified, so it’s all over the station. You know how it works.’

  ‘That’s what I’ve been told. Your ACC has put a gag on our investigation until he’s been briefed on what they were doing here,’ Alan said. ‘You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, guv,’ Google said. ‘Matrix are a law unto themselves. Their own senior officers probably don’t know the full extent of their UCs’ whereabouts. What I can tell you is that there’s been a powershift here in the city and I think you’re feeling the aftershocks.’


  ‘Sounds interesting,’ Alan said.

  ‘Let me put you on hold a minute while I find an office.’ Alan waited while Google changed phones. A minute later, the line clicked. ‘Hello, are you still there?’

  ‘Yes, I’m here.’

  ‘There’re too many ears listening in there. Did you hear about the sentencing for Operation Suzie last week?’

  ‘I read the memos sent around,’ Alan said. ‘They all got hefty sentences.’

  ‘You’re not kidding me. They sentenced thirty-six of them, all tier one, mostly from here and Manchester. They got all the main players off the streets in one sweep and it’s left a vacuum.’

  ‘I can imagine it has.’

  ‘We’ve got foreign outfits from all over the country trying to fill the void and the smaller local crews trying to step up and stay alive. It’s like the United Nations of crime out there. They’re shooting each other left, right, and centre.’

  ‘I haven’t seen much on the news.’

  ‘The press is playing it down so far. They’re under the cosh from our top brass but there’s a war going on here. I think you’re feeling the repercussions of what’s happening.’

  ‘It would explain why Matrix were following a supply line down here.’

  ‘Everything has changed,’ Google said. ‘The drug squad are reporting finds of coke at ninety per cent and some as low as thirteen. The quality is all over the place in the city so by the time it’s reached your area, heaven knows what it is. I can see it causing trouble if people think they’re being ripped off.’

  ‘That might explain why some fragile truces are breaking down. It makes sense,’ Alan said. ‘Thanks for the info. Who would I speak to in Matrix to find out who they were investigating here?’

  ‘Paul Johnson,’ Google said. ‘And I didn’t give you that name. If I hear anything relevant to your end, I’ll give you a bell.’

  ‘Likewise,’ Alan said. ‘Thanks, Google.’ The line went dead. Alan ran through the main players on the North Wales coast. It takes a special kind of dangerous to abduct, torture, and kill two undercover police officers. That’s stepping into the big league in anyone’s book. No matter how many times he ran through them, the same name kept floating to the top of the list.

  CHAPTER 8

  ‘T

  his is Kelvin Adams from Pensarn,’ Alan said. He had a team of thirty detectives gathered in the operations room. He’d intended to start the briefing with the victims pulled from Trearddur Bay but the news of them being UCs had changed the priority. ‘His wife claims Kelvin was on a fishing trip when he was attacked. He was pepper-sprayed, forced to walk over the grange, strangled, and beaten to death.’ Images of the victim and the crime scene flicked across a bank of digital screens behind him. ‘His wife told us that he made this trip every month to fish at Porth Dafarch which was his favourite spot. He was attacked in this public toilet block,’ he said, pointing to the screen. ‘His son said he always used the disabled cubicle to change out of his waterproofs before driving home in the early hours of the morning. The estimated time of death supports their theory that he was fishing.’ Alan took a mouthful of coffee before continuing.

  ‘What we need to clarify is what happened to him,’ he said. ‘Kelvin said he was going to fish. There were seventy mile an hour winds that night for those of you not familiar with that part Anglesey, Porth Dafarch is twenty-three miles out to sea and the coastline is high cliffs. There are many scrambles down to rocks where fishermen frequent but not when the waves are so high. It would be suicide to climb down there. Nobody was fishing at Porth Dafarch that night. His fishing equipment was packed away in the car and it was bone dry, yet his waterproofs were soaked so, where did he go and what’s the motive of the attack?’

  ‘Have we found the weapon he was beaten with?’ Dafyd asked.

  ‘Not yet,’ Alan said. ‘We’re sure it’s a hammer. The search of the grange will continue this morning. The wind has dropped, and the rain has stopped. In the meantime, I want to know more about Kelvin Adams. Who was he? Talk to his workmates, his bosses, and his subordinates at Jaguar. Simon and Kerry, can you take that please?’

  ‘Yes, guv. I’ll call them now and make an appointment.’

  ‘Don’t take no for an answer. We need his laptop, work computer, and phone,’ Alan added. ‘You’ll need permission from his wife for his personal stuff and she’s not impressed with me at the moment so ask nicely.’

  ‘What did you do wrong, guv,’ Simon asked.

  ‘She’s pissed off because I insinuated he may have been visiting the toilet block for a more unsavoury reason than getting changed into dry clothes.’

  ‘I can see that not going down well,’ Simon said.

  ‘It didn’t but I had to ask. He has a teenage son who threatened to punch me in the nose.’ The detectives laughed quietly. ‘Use kid gloves, I want to build bridges with them. It may well be that Kelvin was just unlucky and in the wrong place at the wrong time but I don’t think so.’ Alan changed the image. ‘Whether it was random or a targeted attack, the killer is a very dangerous individual and we need to lock them up. He went there with pepper spray and duct tape and a hammer. It was premeditated but Kelvin may have been a random victim. If we can work out the motive, we’ll be able to narrow down the possible suspects. Alice, I want your team to concentrate on the Kelvin Adams investigation. Call Pamela Stone at forensics and ask her if she can speed up the results on the car. It was spotless when we searched it. Too clean.’

  ‘Yes, guv.’

  ‘I’ll need you to coordinate the search at the headland too,’ Alan added. ‘Keep me in the loop.’ He changed the images again. The victims from Trearddur Bay appeared. ‘Here’s where things get interesting. These two men are undercover officers from the Matrix unit in Liverpool.’ A ripple of surprised chatter spread through the gathering. ‘We don’t know their names yet, but we know they were in the job. Someone blew their cover, abducted them, tortured them, and tossed them into the sea tied together at the feet. I can’t think of anything more frightening than having your cover blown by a violent gang. They must have been terrified. We have to assume that whatever they knew, the killers now know. I think that under torture, most people will talk, eventually. If there are more undercover officers in the investigation, then they’re clearly in danger. I spoke to an officer from MIT this morning and there’s a power struggle going on between organised crime groups across Liverpool and Manchester. It would appear that Matrix were following a supply line into our patch, but someone sussed them as coppers. We don’t know who they are yet but that doesn’t matter. I want you to show their pictures around on the island. They must have been staying somewhere. Where is their vehicle? Which pubs did they drink in and who were they friendly with? We have to assume their unit won’t know exactly where they’ve been. I want you to split up into teams of two and target the island. One of the victims was wearing wellington boots stamped at Wylfa Power Station. Let’s show their pictures to everyone who works on site and speak to the guesthouses and pubs in Cemaes Bay. They may have been working on that side of the island, but my hunch is they were in Holyhead.’

  ‘Why Holyhead?’

  ‘Because that’s where all the people involved in drugs are,’ Alan said. The room remained quiet. Some of the heads nodded in agreement. ‘Keep in touch with your findings. We’ll have a debrief at eight o’clock tonight. See you later.’

  CHAPTER 9

  He watched and waited. It was late afternoon and the sun was fading. The number of cars coming and going had dwindled to the odd one or two. Dog walkers wandered from the woods to their cars, heading home before dark. There were only two vehicles remaining when he climbed out of the car and pulled a black coat from the boot. The temperature was dropping quickly as night approached. He walked towards the paths that threaded through the nature reserve in a long horseshoe shape. They all looped back to where they began; the car park.

  Left or right, which one to take? So much
in life was impulsive. He paused for a moment and decided to go left. The path became gloomy within a few yards. He put his hands deep into his pockets and walked on. His right hand touched the cold handle of the knife. It weighed heavy in his coat. He wanted a sheath so he could attach it to a belt but couldn’t risk buying one online. It would be too easy to trace. No one could know about the knife, not ever.

  He slowed down as he went past the pet cemetery. It always fascinated him. He loved reading the names and the inscriptions that people dedicated to their furry friends. They were far more touching than anything he’d seen in a human graveyard. The emotional pain was there to be seen in every line. Humans genuinely loved their pets with all their hearts and of course it was true the love was returned unconditionally, with bells on. Especially dogs. He’d loved his dog Hugo when he was alive. It was heart-breaking taking Hugo to the vet to put him out of his misery. Hugo’s hips had gone and he couldn’t stand up anymore. He was in constant pain. It was the kindest thing to do.

  He saw a woman approaching from the opposite direction. She was walking a chocolate labrador. It was beautiful, but it was a powerful animal too. They weren’t aggressive in nature but if you attack a dog’s owner, you risk being bitten. Most dogs will defend their owners. It would be noisy and wasn’t worth the risk. There would be others. There were always others. He smiled as she approached, and she smiled back. He caught the scent of her perfume and it made him tense. The heady rush of pheromones made his knees weak. He imagined inhaling the perfume from her neck as the knife sliced through her clothes before penetrating her flesh – the look on her face as the light faded from her eyes. Oh God, he wanted to kill her so much. So much it hurt inside, like losing a friend. He had to focus to stop himself from going after her. Focus.

  And then she was gone, completely unaware of how close she’d come to a killer. A killer on the Hunt. His pulse was racing as he walked on. He reached the turn in the path and ten minutes later he was next to the sea, heading back to the car park. It was then he saw a man standing just off the path facing the sea. He was looking over to Cable Bay, saw him coming, and turned to say hello. His hand gripped the handle and he felt the static. He slid the knife from his pocket. The man caught a glimpse of it at the last moment, his eyes widened in fear as the blade pierced his abdomen again and again. He opened his mouth to scream but it never came out.