by Conrad Jones
‘A limited company based in Guernsey called Mon Holdings. The contact details are a property management company based in Trearddur Bay run by a local guy Will Pinter.’
‘I know Will,’ Alan said. ‘He owned a farm at Llaingoch years ago—he must be in his eighties. We need to speak to him.’
‘I’ve got a mobile number.’
‘Good, we’ll do it when we’re finished here. What did Pamela say her initial thoughts were?’
‘She said it looks like two contractors went to work and never came back. There’s nothing suspicious in there. Their rooms have got sports bags with spare underwear, some work clothes, and some casual stuff. There’re no phones, no iPads, no tablets, or laptops. Either they made a point of staying off social media or their stuff has been stolen.’
‘I suppose Matrix officers are likely to be on social media following their targets and finding out who knows who,’ Alan said. ‘They would have phones. Probably SIM only but they would have them. Where are they?’
‘They would have been on them, wouldn’t they?’
‘I would think so. Has she processed the van?’
‘Yes, she’s still on it. So far, there’s a couple of Hi-vis jackets, some waterproofs, and a bag of tools. Apart from that, it’s clean. She’s taking prints and DNA swabs but doesn’t expect to find anything. It looks like they parked it up, locked it, and then vanished. The kidnappers didn’t go near it.’
‘If they confessed to being undercover officers, the kidnappers would search their belongings.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Wouldn’t you?’
‘What if they didn’t talk? They may not have confessed to being police,’ Kim said. ‘Maybe they didn’t know where they were staying. Maybe they didn’t tell them anything at all.’
‘I’m not convinced. Everyone has a breaking point. I find it odd the van wasn’t touched and I don’t think their rooms have been searched either,’ Alan said. Looking around. ‘Do you know what else I find odd?’
‘Go on.’
‘This place. It’s as if it isn’t finished.’
‘It’s basic to say the least.’
‘Why spend thousands of pounds converting a building like this and not put in the basics like televisions and Internet access?’
‘I thought that. And why pay a laundry service to change the towels for empty rooms?’ Kim agreed.
‘Who is servicing the place?’
‘It’s a new company, Cemaes Housekeeping Limited.’
‘Where are they based?’
‘The address is an industrial unit on the outskirts of Cemaes.’
‘Silly question. That makes sense but their operation doesn’t. A good businessman wouldn’t service empty rooms.’
‘Why do it then?’
‘The only reason you would do that is if you wanted to make your motel appear to be full every day,’ Alan said. ‘Google the place and see if it comes up.’ Kim typed the motel into her phone.
‘Yes. It’s here but it’s saying it’s fully booked.’
‘Fully booked my arse,’ Alan said. ‘How much is a room for the night?’
‘Seventy-five pounds per person.’
‘That’s a hundred and fifty a night, times eight rooms.’
‘Twelve-hundred a night is eight-thousand four-hundred pounds a week,’ Kim said.
‘That’s thirty-seven grand a month, over four hundred thousand pounds a year. Add on some extras and room service, alarm calls, Wi-Fi that isn’t there, adult films, and you could take that to over half a million a year. It’s a different type of laundering we’re looking at here,’ Alan said.
‘I’ll get our financials to dig deeper into the Guernsey company.’
‘What’s the name of the company Will Pinter runs?’
‘Sundown property management,’ Kim said, reading from her phone. ‘I’ll give them a call and see how the rooms were booked. It might give us something to follow.’
‘It can’t hurt to ask,’ Alan said. He didn’t look convinced.
‘You’re not telling me what you’re thinking.’
‘I might be way off the mark.’
‘Tell me anyway.’
‘Okay. Let’s say I’ve got a lot of cash that needs laundering. I need legitimate businesses to wash the money through, right?’
‘Right.’
‘I buy a derelict building for a song, convert it into accommodation, and rent all the rooms out every night to fictitious customers who all pay cash. Then I can pay the cash into my motel bank account and suddenly, it’s legitimate.’
‘But if someone were to investigate, you would have to prove the motel was a functioning business by proving the rooms are serviced and towels and bedding are laundered by a legitimate supplier.’
‘Exactly. Now let’s say I meet a couple of friendly blokes in a pub, looking for somewhere to stay for a few months. I offer them a couple of rooms and they’re seen coming and going, eating and drinking locally. It helps make the place look authentic.’
‘But you don’t know the friendly blokes are undercover police officers,’ Kim said, nodding.
‘How could I?’
‘You couldn’t. No one has searched their rooms and no one has searched their van because no one knows who they were,’ Kim said. Alan shook his head. ‘What did I say wrong?’
‘If I was laundering money through here, that’s exactly what I would want you to think. I’d want you to think no one knows because I’d want you away from my empty motel, rapid. I want to know who runs this place and I want to know today. If this is what we think it is, it won’t be the only one. Check if the company that owns this place has any other properties on the island. I’m betting on them having a few more dotted about.’
‘Okay, I’m on it.’ Kim took out her mobile and made a call.
A uniformed officer walked down the hallway.
‘Pamela wants a word, guv,’ she said. ‘She’s found something in the van.’
‘Thank you, Prita,’ Alan said. She was one of a handful of female AHolly officers on the island. ‘How are the kids?’
‘Noisy and disrespectful,’ Prita said, smiling. ‘The eldest has decided he wants a gap year before he goes to high school.’
‘There’s a novelty. Maybe he needs to find himself.’
‘He needs to find a hearing aid and listen to what we’re telling him,’ Prita said.
‘They must be a handful. What does Ravi say?’
‘He says he wants a DNA test. He doesn’t think he’s his son.’
‘Tell him to look in the mirror, he’s his double,’ Alan said. Prita laughed. They walked outside into the small car park. Pamela was busy sifting through something in a small evidence bag. ‘What have you found?’
‘There’s a false panel here look,’ Pamela said, pointing inside the van.
‘How did you find that?’ Alan asked, impressed.
‘It’s standard practice with vans nowadays. We measure the length of the outside against the length inside to the bulkhead. Any deviation indicates a void. It’s not rocket science.’ Alan smiled. He thought anything she did was amazing. ‘When we opened it, we found these. There are hundreds of packets containing all kinds of dubious substances,’ she joked, holding a bag of white powder. ‘They’re all sealed and labelled.’
‘How many are there?’ Alan asked.
‘I haven’t got an exact figure yet but it’s hundreds, collected over nine months as far as I can see from the dates. They’ve catalogued what it is, dates and times of purchase, location and the dealers’ names in some cases. They were busy boys.’
‘They were. Before this goes to the lab, can we have the details of anything they bought on the island, names, location, and what it is. We can collate the dates and times later. That would be a great help.’
‘We can do that. Leave it with me.’
‘Thanks, Pamela.’ Alan glanced over the packets. None of the names stood out to him. ‘I’m not seeing anyone jumpin
g out at me here but then I wouldn’t expect to.’
‘They would’ve been buying from pub dealers and the foot soldiers not the guys we’re after,’ Kim agreed. ‘But if we get a list of who they are, it will be easy to find out who they work for.’
‘My thoughts exactly. How long do you think it will take?’ Alan asked.
‘Give me an hour and I’ll send you a list,’ Pamela said.
‘Excellent.’ He glanced across the road at the back of the concrete monstrosity that was Holyhead Police Station and a thought came to him. The building was no longer occupied by a force. It had been left with a skeleton crew since the island’s custody suites were closed and the burden of locking people up was put onto the town of Caernarfon, on the mainland. His forehead wrinkled as he thought.
‘What are you thinking?’ Kim asked, following his gaze to the station.
‘There’s an empty police station there, right in the middle of our investigation,’ Alan said. ‘I’m going to speak to Dafyd about moving our operation here for a few weeks.’
‘Logistically it makes sense.’
‘I’m not thinking logistics.’
‘You’re not?’
‘No. If fifty detectives land in the middle of a small town like this, it will rattle a lot of cages. People will panic and start talking but they don’t know we’re already listening. Operation Thor has already got ears here. If the top brass think moving our investigation here will help their cause, they’ll give us a green light. It will shake a lot of trees and all we have to do is wait to see what falls out.’
CHAPTER 28
Simon and Kerry were at the Jaguar plant in Liverpool. They took a seat in one of the canteens. It was the nightshift canteen and wouldn’t be opened for hours yet. Barry Trent was at a meeting in London and his assistant manager was much more affable. He seemed genuinely upset about Kelvin Adams and was willing to do what he could to help. They spoke to the engineers who sat close to Kelvin, one at a time, and then spoke to those who had been there a long time. There was only one other employee who had been there as long as Glen Price and Kelvin Adams—a Jamaican lady called Geneva Rhodes. She sat down opposite them. Her smile was genuine but there was suspicion in her eyes. She was nervous.
‘Thanks for talking to us, Geneva,’ Kerry said.
‘Everyone calls me Genny.’
‘Okay, Genny it is. I’m Kerry and this is Simon.’
‘Pleased to meet you both. I was very upset to hear about Kelvin. We started here about the same time and he was always a nice man. He stuck his neck out for me a few times in the early years.’
‘Really?’ Kerry frowned.
‘I was the only black woman in the entire plant,’ Genny said. ‘You can imagine how that would be for some of our less tolerant employees. If I had to venture onto the factory floor, the air turned blue sometimes. Mostly wolf-whistles and the like but there was a lot of abuse back then too. Kelvin and most of the engineers looked after me. Like I said, he stuck his neck out a few times. He got angry one time with a young mechanic who always took things too far with me—actually punched him on the nose. We were all very young back then.’
‘His death must have been a blow to his workmates.’
‘It was a huge shock to everyone.’
‘How do you get on with Glen Price?’ Simon asked. Genny looked disturbed by the question.
‘Okay,’ Genny said. Her eyes flickered up to the left for a millisecond but Simon caught it. That was a lie. ‘Like I said, we’ve worked together a long time.’
‘Did Kelvin and Glen get along?’
‘They were very good friends for a long time but not so much in later years.’
‘Really?’ Kerry said. ‘What changed?’
‘You’d have to ask them.’ Genny shifted uneasily in her chair. ‘It’s none of my business.’
‘Kelvin was murdered, Genny and Glen Price isn’t cooperating with us. If there’s something you’re not telling us?’
‘It’s personal to them. It’s not for me to rake up ancient history.’
‘We could do with your help,’ Kerry said. ‘Whatever you say to us, stays with us. Why did they fall out?’
‘It was a long time ago. You can’t think it has anything to do with his murder.’
‘We don’t think anything yet but it’s odd that Glen won’t talk to us.’
‘He’s a difficult man sometimes.’
‘Talk to us, Genny. When did they fall out?’
‘I’m not comfortable talking about it.’
‘No one will ever know.’
‘It was a long time ago.’
‘What was?’
‘Okay.’ Genny took a deep breath. ‘About six years ago, there was an incident. I’m really not comfortable talking about them behind their backs. You could probably find out what happened if you spoke to human resources. It will all be on record.’
‘Anything they have will be covered by data protection,’ Kerry said. ‘They can’t let us see their files without a warrant.’
‘The police were involved at one point. You can check that, can’t you?’
‘Yes. Why were the police involved?’
‘I’d rather not say,’ Genny said, looking around nervously.
‘If it’s on the record, we’ll find out anyway, eventually but it will take us longer,’ Kerry said. ‘Come on, Genny. Give us something to look for.’ Genny folded her hands together and took another deep breath.
‘All I know is two men from the factory floor were arrested and they were sacked. We were told they went to prison.’
‘Can you remember their names?’ Kerry asked.
‘I remember one of them. Derek Kio,’ Genny said. ‘He was the one Kelvin punched in the nose years before. I didn’t know the other man. Once we qualified and finished our degrees, we rarely went down to the factory floor but I’ll never forget Kio. He was a nasty man, a racist. After that, Glen and Kelvin were never the same. They were lucky to keep their jobs.’
‘But what was it all about?’ Kerry asked.
Genny shook her head and stood up. ‘I’ve already said too much. It was nice to meet you both. I hope you catch whoever killed Kelvin but I can’t say anymore.’
‘Thank you, Genny,’ Kerry said. ‘Nice to meet you.’ They watched Genny leave. Her grey business suit was tight around her hips. When she’d gone, Kerry sighed and shook her head. ‘What the hell was that all about?’
‘I don’t know,’ Simon said. ‘I think we should check the PNC to see what Kio’s conviction was for before we make a decision.’
‘I’ll call the station,’ Kerry said.
‘There’s a local station around the corner in Halewood,’ Simon said. ‘They would be the first on site if anything happened here. It might be worth calling in for a cup of tea and a chat with the desk sergeant. If you want to know anything about anything, ask the desk sergeant.’
‘Good idea,’ Kerry said. Her call connected. ‘I need a PNC check on a Derek Kio. He’s from the Merseyside area.’ There was a pause. ‘He’s doing a fifteen-year stint for armed robbery,’ she whispered to Simon. ‘Go back six years for me and see what else is on his record.’ She waited, anticipation building. ‘He got four and a half years for possession with intent. Cocaine.’
‘That changes the slant of things. No wonder Barry Trent didn’t want us digging around. That must have been embarrassing for the company,’ Simon said. ‘Let’s call at the local nick and see if anyone remembers what happened.’
CHAPTER 29
Bob Dewhurst sipped his tea next to the burger van at Penrhos. Divers were checking around the inlet to the Inland Sea, avoiding the deadly current that roared through the inlet itself. Another team were scouring the coves and reeds of the Inland Sea in rigid hulled inflatable boats—the sound of their outboard motors carried across the cob. The Inland Sea was calm and shallow and would give up a body, eventually. If Brian Hindley was in there, they would find him. Further out to the west, a coast gua
rd launch was trawling in a grid pattern between Holy Island and the lighthouse at the Skerries. It was like looking for a needle in a mountain of needles. Some of Brian Hindley’s family and friends refused to go home until he was found. It was almost academic if he was alive or dead, they wanted to be there. He could understand that. It was easier to watch the search operation than to sit at home not knowing what was going on. The press and thirty or so ghouls were gathered along the cob like vultures on a telegraph wire, waiting for the sight of a dead body being lifted from the water. Part of him hoped Brian Hindley wouldn’t be found in daylight so the press couldn’t get their morbid photographs. The family were suffering enough without seeing pictures of his body posted on the Internet. Bob spotted Alan’s BMW being stopped by uniformed officers at the cordon near the main road.
‘How long are you holding the public back at the road?’ the burger van owner asked. ‘I’ve got a living to make, you know.’
‘Are you kidding me, Jim?’ Bob said.
‘No. I’m not kidding. It’s not every day we get a crowd like that here,’ Jim said.
‘Listen to me, Jim. You’ve never sold so many cups of tea in a month as you have today. Half the North Wales force is here. You’ll be up all night counting your money.’
‘I could be taking a lot more if you let the public in,’ Jim said. His moustache overhung his top lip like the bristles of a yard brush. ‘I’m missing an opportunity. A man has to make a living, you know.’
‘We’ve got a job to do here. How many punters do you think are going to come here to wander around the woods when there’s a killer on the loose at Penrhos?’
Jim stopped smiling and shook his head. ‘Not many.’
‘You didn’t think of that, did you?’
‘Not really.’
‘We’ve got a job to do, so let us get on with it and while we’re here, we’ll keep drinking your tea and buying your bacon. Look, more customers,’ Bob said, pointing.
Jim walked away sulkily to serve another uniformed police officer. Alan had parked up and was approaching with Kim.
‘How’s it going?’ Alan asked.
