by Conrad Jones
‘Guv,’ a voice disturbed his thoughts. He turned and walked across the path to an oak tree next to the edge of a shingle beach. The sea was no more than twenty-feet away. ‘Look there.’
Bob looked down at the rocks and sand between the tree roots. The roots were thick and gnarled and spread for yards before the ground swallowed them up. There was congealed blood on the bark and soaked into the sand.
‘That’s a lot of blood,’ Bob said. He looked around. ‘There’re a set of footprints in the mud over there.’ He walked on the shingle trying to avoid the sand and mud. Parallel marks scored the sand either side of the footprints. ‘Someone was dragged to the water here. Give DI Williams a call and get a CSI team in here.’ He sighed. ‘I’ll go and talk to Mrs Hindley and his family. I’ll have to explain that we’re probably looking for a body.’
CHAPTER 22
He watched the family as they received the news. The wife disintegrated and collapsed onto the tarmac, her family trying to console her and stop her from hurting herself. Other members of the family hugged each other, many in tears, some absolutely hysterical. It was pure ecstasy to listen to. Absolutely heavenly. The sound of their collective grief was more magnificent than any orchestra or opera he’d ever heard. There was such beauty in their pain, such pleasure in their suffering that it brought tears to his eyes. All this anguish created by his own hands. It was poetry in motion. He wished he could film it.
He walked to the burger van and ordered a sausage sandwich and a tea, listening intently to the words of comfort they offered each other. Each one trying to find the most poignant sentence they could muster. Some were fantastic, others sickeningly dramatic. The fact there was no body yet was adding to their agonies. The wife was on her feet now but couldn’t support herself. Her jaw was open and saliva dribbled from her chin onto a red windbreaker. A younger version of her, held one arm and an elderly man, who could be her brother, held the other. They were guiding her through the gathering of volunteers towards a white Audi. The passenger door was opened and too many people tried to put her in, all wanting to help but competing with each other to assist. It was the most fabulous thing he’d ever witnessed. The collateral grief was as satisfying as the killing itself. Almost.
‘Any sauce, mate?’
‘What?’ he asked, lost in the euphoria.
‘Sauce?’
‘Brown please.’
‘Tragic, isn’t it?’
‘Heart breaking,’ he said, biting into his sandwich. He swigged the tea and watched the family, silhouetted against the sea. A windfarm nestled on the slopes above Church Bay, adding a striking feature to the scene. The daughter screamed and became hysterical. What a beautiful start to the day. It was simply magical.
CHAPTER 23
Alan and Kim walked into the Empire Café and looked for an empty table. There was one on the far side of the room but Alan didn’t want to sit there. It was too out of the way. In the opposite corner, near the window, he noticed Eric Stott sitting with two ladies who were getting up, readying to leave. As they walked towards the counter to pay, Alan approached the table. Eric was sitting on his mobility scooter, wearing his trademark flat cap. He looked up and nodded hello, smiling.
‘Hello, inspector,’ Eric said. ‘Long time, no see.’
‘It is a long time,’ Alan said. He turned to Kim. ‘Eric is responsible for some of the worst videos I’ve ever seen.’ He took a seat opposite him. ‘And some of the best. Long before you left school, probably.’ Kim sat down next to him. ‘This is Kim.’
‘Hello, Kim,’ Eric said. ‘Are you a detective too?’
‘I am.’
‘What rank are you?’
‘Detective sergeant.’
‘Well done,’ Eric said. ‘I like to see people doing well. My daughter went to university, you know. She’s head of the child protection unit now.’
‘That’s a tough job,’ Kim said. ‘I’m not sure I could do it.’
‘I’m very proud of her. Helping kids is a special thing.’
‘You should be proud. They do amazing work, day in and day out.’
‘You don’t mind us joining you?’ Alan asked.
‘Not at all. My pleasure. I was sorry to hear about Audrey and your mum,’ Eric said. ‘She was a lovely lady, your mum.’
‘Thank you. She was.’
‘I don’t know how she put up with your dad for all those years. He was a funny bugger, wasn’t he?’ Eric said.
‘He could be stubborn,’ Alan agreed.
‘No offence.’
‘None taken.’
The waitress came and took their order. Alan ordered a bacon toastie and a tea. Kim ordered coffee and toast. Eric had a refill and chatted to the other customers while they ordered.
‘What brings you in here?’ Eric asked. His eyes sparkled with curiosity. He was a wily man, intelligent but suspicious by nature. ‘It’s not somewhere you just pop into, so I’m guessing you’re here on business.’
‘Very perceptive,’ Alan said. ‘It was you we came to see, actually.’
‘Really,’ Eric said, slurping his tea. ‘Have you come to pay your late video fine? It’s been twenty-five years and there’s interest to pay.’
‘Did I owe a fine?’ Alan blushed.
‘Probably. Everyone else did,’ Eric joked. ‘You had a few over the years.’
‘I did. I remember not coming for ages because Rocky was on a fine and I was skint.’
‘Seventy-six that was released,’ Eric said.
‘Where do the years go?’
‘Joking aside, how can I help you good people?’
‘There were two men eating breakfast in here last week,’ Alan said, showing him the picture. ‘Do you recognise them?’
‘Yes. Peter and Joseph. They were working for a company testing the level of fibreglass in the marina after the storm,’ Eric said.
‘What a mess that was.’
‘It was. When eighty yachts sink overnight, there’s a lot dangerous crap in the water. They were subcontractors working for an insurance company. They said the insurance company was trying not to pay out for the clean-up.’
‘Do you know where they were staying?’
‘The Caernarfon Castle,’ Eric said. ‘Just around the corner but you know that. It’s five steps from the back of the police station.’
‘I thought that place was closed.’
‘It was closed for years. They boarded it up but it was bought last year and converted into one of those keyless hotels. You know the type?’
‘Yes. You book online and then receive an access code to the front door and a room,’ Kim said. ‘If you want your bedding changed, you pay more. I stayed in one similar in Chester last year. We didn’t see another human all weekend. It had everything you could ask for. Wi-Fi, Netflix, fifty-inch televisions, the works.’
‘It’s not that good here. There’re no televisions and no Wi-Fi. Peter and Joseph said they were the only people staying there but fresh towels were put outside every door every day,’ Eric said. ‘Things change, not always for the better. I remember when it was a pub, the place being full of police officers at teatime. There was no such thing as drink driving in those days.’ He winked at Kim. ‘Especially if you had a police helmet in the back window of your car.’
‘Why did they put their helmet in the back window?’ Kim asked.
‘So, the police would know it was another officer driving, usually drunk in those days.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Alan said, shaking his head. ‘That’s a terrible insinuation.’
‘Terrible but true,’ Eric said, laughing. His laugh boomed across the café.
‘This might seem like an odd question but did you notice what vehicle they drove?’ Alan said, steering the conversation.
‘Yes. I saw them passing here a few times after they’d eaten breakfast. They have a white van signed up with the company logo. Marine Engineers or something like that. Blue writing.’ Eric sipped hi
s tea again. ‘They seemed like nice lads; said they would be here for a few months. What have they done, anyway?’
‘They’re dead, unfortunately,’ Alan said, lowering his voice.
Intelligence glimmered in Eric’s eyes. He nodded slowly.
‘Were they the blokes pulled out of the Bay?’
‘Exactly.’
‘What did they get themselves mixed up in?’ Eric asked.
‘We’re not sure. Drugs probably.’
‘Crying shame, young men like that. Such a waste.’
‘It is. Did you notice them talking to anyone else, you know what I mean?’
‘I can’t say I did but I’m home early these days. I don’t venture into the pubs anymore. They mentioned they’d been for a few pints in town.’
‘Can you remember where?’
‘They mentioned the Chester, the Ddraigh Goch, and the Albert Vaults.’ They all looked through the window at the pub across the road. The Vaults was a tiny pub with a decent trade. It was full when other pubs were empty.
‘Did they mention anyone they’d met?’
‘No. Not that I can recall. I would remember if they’d mentioned anyone local. They would have bumped into all the town’s characters in the Vaults. Sorry I can’t be more help.’
‘Not at all, you’ve been a great help, Eric,’ Alan said. He handed him his card. ‘I know you keep your ear to the ground. I need to ask you to do me a favour.’
‘You can ask.’
‘There’s been a lot of arrests away from here but it’s going to have a knock-on effect in places like this.’
‘Places like this?’ Eric frowned.
‘I mean coastal towns along the Welsh coast all the way to Liverpool.’
‘Knock-on effects like what?’
‘There’s a power struggle and there will be trouble.’
‘And you want me to listen out for information?’
‘Don’t go out of your way. Just keep an ear open.’
‘I can manage that. No problem.’
‘We’ll leave you in peace,’ Alan said. They stood up and shook hands and headed for the door. All eyes in the room were on their backs as they opened the door and walked out. When the door closed, Eric was bombarded with questions. He didn’t have to buy another cup of tea all day while the occupants of the café speculated what had happened.
CHAPTER 24
Simon and Kerry pulled up at the home of Mr and Mrs Price. He pressed the buzzer on the gatepost and the gates opened silently. There was no sign of any vehicles as they approached and the upstairs curtains were closed. The initial financial reports had shown Patricia Price had an interior design company registered at companies’ house but she hadn’t filed any accounts or tax returns for two years. The years prior showed a small profit. They had no credit cards or loans and their vehicles were owned outright. As long as Mr Price earned enough to cover everything, it didn’t show anything suspicious so far but if he didn’t, questions would be asked.
‘Are you ready for this?’ Simon asked. He checked his appearance in the mirror and smoothed his dark hair back from his forehead. It was short over the ears and longer on top.
‘Absolutely. Bad cop, bad cop,’ Kerry said.
‘Are there no good cops?’
‘Not today. Only bad cop and bad cop.’
‘Which one am I?’
‘Just pick one and stick with it. I’ll do the rest.’
They climbed out and knocked on the door. It was several minutes before Glen Price opened it. He looked frightened, his eyes darted from the gates to the road and around the lawns as if he was expecting someone to be there. Simon couldn’t be certain but he thought he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. He looked tired as if he’d been awake all night.
‘Good morning,’ Simon said, noting his demeanour. ‘Thank you for seeing us.’
‘It isn’t through choice. I don’t know how you think I can help,’ Glen said. He was on the defensive immediately. ‘Come in. I haven’t got long.’ He stepped back from the door and let them in, keeping his eyes on the road all the time.
‘We won’t take up much of your time,’ Simon said. The hallway was wide with tall ceilings and a vivid floral carpet. The paintings on the walls were equally vivid. Simon wondered if Mrs Price should be an interior designer at all.
‘Good. I’m very busy and this is a waste of my time.’
‘How long did you know Kelvin Adams,’ Kerry asked, looking at the paintings as if she wasn’t interested in the answer.
‘Nearly twenty years. We started our degrees together.’
‘You must be close if you worked together that long,’ Simon said.
‘He was a workmate. Nothing more. I don’t know anything about what he did after work.’
‘After work?’ Kerry said, frowning.
‘What?’
‘We haven’t asked you if you did know what he did after work,’ Kerry said.
‘Well, I’m just saying. This is pointless.’
‘You don’t appear to want to help with the investigation into your friend’s murder, Mr Price.’ Glen blushed and looked at him sheepishly, ‘I find that very odd.’
‘I just don’t see how I can help.’
‘You can help by chatting to us and answering some questions about Kelvin.’
‘I don’t know anything about it.’
‘About what?’
‘What happened to Kelvin. I really don’t see how talking to me helps.’
‘It helps if you answer our questions and let us decide if it helps or not.’
‘It’s a waste of time. I don’t know anything.’
‘We could always do this at the station with a solicitor if you’d be more comfortable?’ Simon said. ‘We don’t want to make you uncomfortable but we do need to talk to you. Would you rather have a solicitor present?’
‘No, no, it’s fine,’ Mr Price said. The colour drained from his face. He appeared to compose himself. ‘Come in and sit down.’ They followed him into an oblong lounge that ran from front to back of the house. Patio doors led into a huge conservatory to the rear. He pointed to a four-seater settee. ‘Please, sit down.’
‘We’ll stand, thanks, Mr Price,’ Kerry said. She pointed to an armchair. ‘Take a seat.’ It wasn’t a request. He sat down on an armchair and looked at the floor. ‘Thank you. We can stop this at any time, you understand?’ Mr Price nodded that he did. ‘When was the last time you spoke to Kelvin Adams?’
‘I can’t remember, exactly.’
‘Did you see him at work the day before you called in sick?’ Kerry asked.
‘Yes, of course. I was sitting next to him.’
‘What time did you finish work that day?’
‘About half past five.’
‘Was that the last time you saw him?’
‘Yes, I suppose it was.’
‘Did you talk to him after work?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Did you talk to him on the telephone, perhaps?’
‘Not that I can remember.’
‘We can check your phone records to verify if you did or not,’ Simon said.
‘You can’t do that without my permission.’ Mr Price shifted in his seat. He rubbed his hands together, nervously.
‘This is a murder investigation. We can and we will check your records.’
‘I might have called him,’ Mr Price said, nervously. Simon and Kerry looked at each other for a second.
‘What about?’
‘Pardon?’
‘What did you call him about?’
‘A project we’re working on. Something and nothing really.’
‘So, you did call him after work?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s just that a moment ago, you couldn’t remember.’
‘I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. I’ve been forgetting things.’
‘Like what?’ Kerry asked
. Mr Price didn’t answer.
‘I hope you don’t mind me saying but you look like you’re worried, Mr Price,’ Simon added. There was no response. ‘In fact, I’d go so far as to say you look afraid. Are you afraid of something or someone?’
‘No, not at all. I’m tired, that’s all. I’ve not been sleeping very well.’
‘Have you seen a doctor?’ Kerry asked.
‘Yes. She gave me some sleeping tablets but they’re not working for me.’
‘Where’s Mrs Price?’
‘She’s gone to see a client.’
‘A client from her interior design business?’ Simon asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Is she busy?’ Kerry asked.
‘What?’
‘Your wife, is she busy with her work?’ Simon pushed.
‘She’s doing well.’
‘We ran your financials last night.’ Mr Price looked like he’d seen a ghost. ‘You have no mortgage, no loans, or credit cards. It’s a nice position to be in. Unusual, but nice.’
‘You can’t do that,’ Mr Price said, mouth open.
‘We can,’ Kerry said. ‘And we have.’
‘The cars were bought with cash,’ Simon challenged him.
‘I don’t believe this,’ Mr Price said, standing up. He pointed his forefinger. ‘We are professional people. I earn good money and my wife does well.’
‘Really? Only we noticed she hasn’t submitted a tax return for a while,’ Simon said.
‘How, how, dare you?’ Mr Price stammered. ‘What has that got to do with anything?’
‘Everything,’ Kerry said. ‘We’re investigating a brutal murder. The murder of Kelvin Adams, a man you’ve worked with for decades. A man you spoke to the night before he was murdered. We need to investigate his family, friends, and anyone who came into contact with him recently and we need to look at every aspect of their lives until we find the killer and lock them up.’
