by Conrad Jones
‘I can imagine he was. Whereabouts is Lloyd’s boatyard?’
‘Along the quarry road, turn right at the fork towards Soldier’s Point. You can see it a bit further down on the left-hand side. I don’t know why he bought it. He doesn’t know anything about boats. The last one he sold, sank in the harbour after a week.’
‘Something else he’s shit at?’ Alan said.
‘Yes.’ Leyla smiled through her tears. ‘Something else he’s shit at. Are you going to speak to him?’
‘Yes. We speak to a victim’s partner as a matter of course. So, he’ll be top of our list.’
‘Can we see Zak?’
‘Yes. We can arrange that.’
‘What are you looking for in here?’ Leyla asked.
‘Answers,’ Alan said. ‘Sometimes the answers are right under our noses and other times we never find them.’
‘Did he suffer?’ Leyla asked, clutching the photograph. A knock on the door interrupted them.
‘Can I have a word, guv?’ Kim asked from the doorway. He nodded, relief flooding through him.
‘We’ll speak again soon, take care of your mum,’ Alan said. Leyla laid down on Zak’s bed and sobbed.
CHAPTER 43
Alan drove down Porth-y-felin, under the bridge and onto the Newry. He took the quarry road again, this time taking the right fork. The boatyard was on their left. They stopped outside the gates. He could see the breakwater at the end of the track. It stretched a mile and a half out to sea, protecting the coastline and creating the calm for the marina. A passenger ferry was navigating its course around the lighthouse on its way to Dublin, seagulls floated above the scene, their cries as much a part of the coast as the sea itself.
Alan saw an Audi parked in the yard. He called the station and had the number plate run. It came back as belonging to Lloyd Jones.
‘That’s his vehicle,’ Alan said, opening the door. ‘Let’s go and have a chat with Mr Jones.’
‘Zak’s mother can’t stand the man,’ Kim said.
‘She’s his mother and no one will ever be good enough, although his sister feels the same. Lloyd Jones is not what I’d call a popular man. I’ve never met him but his name has been coming up quite often. I think he’s been trying to establish himself as a rival to Hollins.’
They checked around the Audi. The doors were unlocked. Alan had the urge to open the boot but didn’t. He knocked on the workshop door and waited. There was no reply. He peered through the window and noticed the lights were on. There was no one inside. He went back to the door and tried the handle. It opened with a creak. They stepped inside and looked around. It appeared to be a functioning workshop. The tools were new and the benches tidy and in good condition. Alan spotted something that had no right to be there. He pointed to it.
‘That is a Glock 17 magazine and it appears to be full,’ he said. ‘It would be a schoolboy error to take your gun and leave the bullets behind.’
‘Maybe it’s a spare.’
‘Maybe. Why leave it in plain sight with the lights on and the door open?’
‘Good question. Why have the lights on at all unless he left when it was dark?’
‘And why leave his car in the yard unlocked?’ Alan said. ‘Unless he left in a hurry.’
‘Or maybe he panicked after stabbing his boyfriend to death.’
‘Maybe but why leave the car?’
‘Because we’d be looking for it.’
‘Let’s get CSI in here. Make it part of the Zak Edwards’ crime scene.’
‘Okay. I’ll make a call,’ Kim said. She stepped outside into the yard and called the station. A noise from the Audi made her tense. She cut off the call and walked to the back of the car. The noise came again. It was a sniffling sound coming from the boot. ‘Guv, come and look at this.’ Alan stepped out and approached the vehicle. The sniffling sound came again. He looked at Kim. ‘I think someone’s in there.’
‘So, do I,’ Alan agreed. He opened the driver’s door and clicked the boot lock. It sprung open. They looked at the elderly woman, bound and gagged inside. Her eyes were open and she looked terrified. The sunlight was dazzling after being in the dark so long. Alan removed the gag and she sucked in air greedily. She was panicking. ‘It’s okay, you’re safe. We’re police officers. What’s your name?’
‘Wendy,’ she said.
‘Wendy what?’
‘Wendy Jones.’
‘Are you Lloyd’s mother?’ Alan asked.
‘Yes. Are you going to get me out of this car, or not?’ They undid the ropes and helped her sit up. She put her legs over the edge and Alan pulled her out. ‘Where am I?’ she asked. Her hands were shaking and her knees looked weak.
‘You’re at your son’s boatyard,’ Kim said. ‘Who put you in the boot of this car, Wendy?’
‘I don’t know but they were talking a foreign language. They took me from home. I was in a van, I think. Then they dragged me out of the van and dumped me in here. Is my husband here?’ she asked, looking around. ‘Did he report me missing?’
‘We’re not sure but we’ll ask him. When did this happen?’
‘Last night, I think. I’m a bit confused about what’s happened.’
‘Are you hurt anywhere?’ Alan asked.
‘No. I don’t think so. Where’s my Lloyd?’
‘We don’t know, I’m afraid,’ Alan said. ‘But we’ll help you to find him. Now, we need to get you to hospital to make sure nothing is broken.’
CHAPTER 44
Simon Brady and Kerry Leach went back into the interview room. Glen Price was pale and drawn. He looked like he was terrified. Tudor wasn’t happy either. He didn’t want to be there, that much was obvious. The dynamic between him and his client had changed. Simon sensed the mood darken.
‘Are you ready to begin?’ Kerry asked.
‘I’ve advised my client not say anything else to you,’ Tudor said.
‘In which case, we’ll be arresting him,’ Simon said.
‘You said they won’t arrest me,’ Glen said, panicking. He turned ninety degrees in his chair. ‘He’s just said they’re going to arrest me.’
‘You need to listen to me, not them. They won’t arrest you.’
‘We will arrest you, Glen,’ Kerry said, adding to the pressure.
‘I’m not being arrested. It was Derek Kio,’ Glen said. The room fell silent. Tudor shook his head in despair. ‘The number that kept ringing me. It was Derek Kio.’
‘Derek Kio is inside for armed robbery,’ Simon said.
‘That didn’t stop him from ringing me all the time, making threats and accusations,’ Glen said. ‘You should be interrogating him, not me. He’s the criminal. I couldn’t believe it the first time. I couldn’t even remember who he was. Then he started making accusations.’
‘Accusations about what, exactly?’ Simon asked.
‘About what happened at the plant,’ Glen mumbled. ‘He said the cocaine was planted in his locker and he said he knew it was one of us who did it. I told him I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about but he kept on ringing. He said he was going to kill me and my wife.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Kerry said, shaking her head.
‘What don’t you understand?’
‘Why he is threatening to kill you.’
‘Because he thinks we planted cocaine in his locker.’
‘Did you?’
‘No, I bloody well didn’t!’
‘Why does he think you did?’ Simon asked. Glen hesitated.
‘I don’t know.’
‘He must have told you why he thinks you set him up,’ Simon said. ‘Didn’t you ask him why?’
‘I might have. I can’t remember. I was flustered.’
‘When did you last see Derek Kio?’ Kerry asked.
‘Years ago,’ Glen said.
‘When he was arrested and jailed or since then?’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘Try to remember. Have you seen Derek Kio since
he was jailed for possession with intent, or not?’ Kerry said.
‘Not.’
‘So, out of the blue, six years later, he rings you from prison and says he’s going to kill you?’
‘Yes, and my wife.’
‘He was going to kill you unless you did what?’ Kerry asked.
‘We give him money, of course.’
‘He’s trying to extort money from you?’
‘Yes.’
‘For what?’
‘Compensation, he said, for the time he spent inside.’
‘How much did he ask for?’
‘Sixty grand.’
‘That’s very specific,’ Kerry said.
‘What?’
‘Sixty thousand is a very specific number. Why not seventy or a hundred?’
‘I don’t know. Ask him.’
‘Do you owe him sixty thousand pounds?’ Kerry pushed.
‘No.’
‘Why did you call Barry Trent and Kelvin Adams so soon after speaking to Kio?’ Simon asked.
‘Because he said to. They were involved at the time. He thinks we set him up.’
‘Kio thinks they’re involved in what?’ Kerry asked.
‘You know what. When the factory was raided. We were all spoken to about it. I said at the time, it was nothing to do with me.’
‘Why does Kio think any of you are to blame for planting cocaine in his locker?’ Simon pushed.
‘I don’t know. The man’s a thug. He always was a thug.’
‘And why does he think you owe him sixty thousand pounds?’
‘Because he’s a nutcase.’
‘Did he threaten Kelvin Adams?’ Kerry said.
‘He threatened all of us. He said to get the money together or we’d all be in for it.’
‘If I had been arrested for possession and put in jail, I would hold up my hands and say, ‘fair cop’. If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime. However, if I’d been arrested for possession of cocaine that didn’t belong to me, I would be pissed off. I would be very pissed off indeed.’ Simon tapped his fingers on the desk. ‘It sounds to me like Derek Kio is very pissed off. So, why would he randomly pick three names out of a hat and blame them for sending him to jail?’
‘Why are we wading through ancient history?’ Tudor said. ‘I don’t see the relevance.’
‘Glen and Barry and Kelvin have been threatened by a known criminal and Kelvin Adams has had his head bashed in with a hammer. It’s as relevant as it gets,’ Simon said. ‘Glen was one of the last people to speak to Kelvin on the night he died. I’m going to ask you again. What did you speak about, Glen?’
‘I told you. A technical issue with work.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘Did you agree to pay Kio?’ Kerry asked, changing tack.
‘No. Of course not.’
‘Why didn’t you go to the police?’ she asked.
‘I was going to but Barry told me not to.’
‘Why?’
‘He said he didn’t want it all raking up again at work.’
‘What about when Kelvin was murdered?’ Kerry said. ‘Surely, you must have thought Kio could have something to do with it?’
‘Why would I think that?’ Glen asked. He shifted uneasily in his seat. ‘I had nothing to do with Derek Kio and I had nothing to do with Kelvin being murdered so why would I link the two together.’ He looked at Tudor. ‘Are you going to say anything today?’
‘You’re going around in circles here. I think my client has been very helpful,’ Tudor said. ‘If there’s anything else you want to ask him, do it now, we’ve had enough.’
‘Are you kidding me, Tudor?’ Simon said. ‘Your client has been withholding information which could become vital to a murder investigation. He’s not going anywhere until we’ve ruled him out.’
‘Wait a minute. Ruled me out of what?’ Glen said.
‘Ruled you out of the investigation,’ Simon said. ‘Because of your reluctance to tell the truth, we have been focused on Kelvin being murdered by a random stranger. There was no clear motive until now.’
‘I’m not convinced anything my client has said has actually changed your investigation,’ Tudor said.
‘Then you haven’t been listening to a word he said,’ Kerry said. She looked at him and held his gaze, daring him to argue. ‘Three men questioned in a conspiracy to supply case are being threatened by a career criminal who accused them of being involved at the time. Now, one of them has been murdered.’ She shrugged. ‘Your client has given us a clear motive for murder.’
‘My client has spoken openly and honestly about a historic incident where, a man with a criminal record for distributing cocaine, was caught red-handed with cocaine. It’s hardly ground-breaking police work, is it? What on earth has this to do with my client?’ Tudor said. ‘If Derek Kio made accusations at the time of his arrest, I’m sure your colleagues would have investigated them, wouldn’t they?’
‘Of course, they would,’ Kerry said.
‘Then why are you pertaining to know better that the officers who worked the case at the time?’ Tudor asked. ‘You’re on a fishing trip at best. You have a tricky murder case with no obvious motive and you’re reaching into the mire of the past to find something. Forget it. That’s not happening today.’ He paused. Kerry and Simon listened. ‘If Mr Kio has made threats, then they need to be investigated too. My client needs to be protected, not harassed. He could have no knowledge of what Derek Kio has done from prison. Your connection of the past and the present is spurious at best, ridiculous in fact. Do we actually know where Mr Kio is?’
‘No, but we can find out with a phone call,’ Kerry said. ‘If Glen had been honest from the beginning, we would know and we’d have spoken to him by now.’
‘We can’t change the past. You know everything he does now,’ Tudor said. ‘Charge him or let him go. He’s not saying another word today.’ He waited a second and then stood up. ‘Come on, Glen, we’re leaving. They’re not going to charge you.’
CHAPTER 45
He watched from the bridge that spanned the Inland Sea at Four Mile Bridge. It linked Anglesey to Holy Island. There were about twenty people there, some relatives of Brian Hindley, others just curious onlookers who happened to be there at the time and decided to stay and watch. The remainder were ghouls and press photographers who’d got wind of the find online. A canoeist had spotted a body floating in the reeds close to the Holy Island coastline. The coastguard boats couldn’t access the Inland Sea, so the lifeboat station sent a small rib and a crew, from Trearddur Bay on a trailer. A helicopter was launched from RAF Valley to guide them to the body from above. The activity at Four Mile Bridge drew attention away from Penrhos nature reserve. More people were arriving in cars, parking up, and running to get a decent view.
It was what he’d planned. He knew the body would float that way when he put him in the water. The tide was being sucked through the inlet like water down a plughole. It was obvious the victim would head into the inland waters. The last thing he wanted was it floating out to sea and never being found. That would be no fun at all. Watching the distress of the family on the bridge made it all worthwhile. This was what it was all about. It was almost as good as killing him again. Almost.
The lifeboat crew signalled that they’d located the body and the helicopter turned and headed back to base, its job done. They strapped the corpse to the raft used to recover bodies. It kept the victim in one piece. He listened to the chatter from the crowd. People speculated it was Brian Hindley. The family were stuck in limbo, hoping it wasn’t because then they had to accept, he was dead, but wanting an end to the uncertainty. The uncertainty was like torture. They could grieve the disappearance but not the death—there was no closure. Loss without confirmation of death left the door open for hope. Hope is a dangerous thing for a grieving family. Their expressions were priceless; masks of anguish. It was so moving, he felt tears in his eyes. Tears of joy not pain. He wanted to laugh aloud, take ou
t his phone and photograph them. There was incredible beauty in their pain. He felt he could reach out and touch their despair. It was mesmerising. His eyes moved from one to the next, soaking up the images of grief like blotting paper in ink. He breathed in deeply, tasting the agony in the air. It was a heady mix.
He heard a car door closing and then another one a few seconds later. The vehicle was an Audi. A white one. His heart began to pound. It was the wife, oh joy of all joys. This was better than he could ever imagine. Mrs Hindley being there was the icing on the cake. The blood was thumping through his brain. He couldn’t have planned it better if he had tried. Her legs looked weak as she ran across the road to the bridge, threatening to collapse beneath her. People turned to see who it was making all the noise. She was whining like a dog pining for its owners to come home. A sort of high-pitched intake of breath. Not quite a scream but almost. Her brother was trying hard to keep pace with her. The family members already there parted to let her have the space closest to the wall. Oh, this couldn’t be any better. It was too good to be true. He edged along the bridge until he was only yards away. He could smell her perfume. It was a brand his mother once wore. White Linen. He’d often wondered if it was that scent which attracted her rapist, his father. The perfume excited him. It was a coincidence beyond his wildest dreams. She had her hand over her mouth as the lifeboat left the reeds and motored out to deeper water. It weaved slowly towards the bridge; the pilot an expert on the rocks and shallows beneath. There was a flutter of activity on the boat. He knew it would happen. They’d realised the number of people on the stone bridge and had been told over the radio the family were there. The boat stopped and they covered the corpse with a tarp. He inhaled her perfume and watched her tears running down her cheeks. They glinted in the sun like liquid diamonds. Her eyes showed the agony within. As the boat neared, she caught sight of his shoes and recognised them as her husband’s. The scream that came from deep inside was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. Her knees gave way and she folded to the pavement. He reached her and squeezed her arm around the bicep, stopping her falling further. She looked into his eyes. I killed him. His eyes tried to communicate to her. I killed him. She seemed to sense the evil in him and tried to free her arm but he held her tight. His knuckles were touching her breast. I killed him, stabbed him and took his eyes. It was such an erotic moment, he nearly ejaculated. Her distress was driving him demented. He wanted to kiss her on the mouth, hard and then choke her to death. It was so intense the moment seemed to last for hours.
