The Anglesey Murders Box Set

by Conrad Jones

  ‘Sick?’

  ‘Yes. I’m afraid so.’

  ‘When did he say he would be back?’ Simon asked.

  ‘I’m afraid we can’t tell you that. It’s confidential.’

  ‘This is a murder investigation. Unless you want twenty detectives crawling through your files, I suggest you answer the question,’ he said, trying to remain calm and professional. ‘When did he say he would be back?’

  ‘Yesterday.’

  ‘Did he call in to say he wouldn’t be back?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Thank you. That wasn’t hard, was it?’

  ‘Can I ask why North Wales Police are calling here about Barry?’ the HR officer asked.

  ‘I’m afraid we can’t tell you that, it’s confidential,’ Simon said, hanging up. It was childish but made him feel slightly better. Dealing with jobsworths was a nightmare. Kerry was on the other line talking to the Merseyside force. She didn’t look happy either. He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. ‘Barry Trent called in sick for work yesterday. Have you got any good news?’

  ‘No. Merseyside went to execute the warrant at his home address. Barry Trent isn’t at home. The car is on the driveway, but the lights are off and there doesn’t appear to be anyone home. Do you think he’s done a runner?’

  ‘God knows,’ Simon said.

  ‘What about Kio?’ she asked.

  ‘Merseyside are tracing his last known address. There’re no probation reports as he was freed on all charges. He can go where he likes. They said they’ll call me back. We need to speak to them both before we have another crack at Price. How difficult should this be, bloody typical!’

  The phone rang and Kerry answered it. A few sentences were exchanged. She shook her head and then thanked the caller. The look on her face said it all. It was more bad news. ‘What is wrong?’ Simon asked although he didn’t want to hear the answer.

  ‘That was the station at Coppice Hill, Liverpool city centre,’ Kerry said. ‘Derek Kio was shot dead coming out of a pub last night. Four shots to the chest, one to the head. There’re no witnesses. They’re pulling CCTV in the area and said they would call back if there’s any progress.’

  ‘That sounds like a hit to me,’ Simon said. ‘That can’t be a coincidence,’

  ‘Who would take him out like that? Form an orderly queue, springs to mind. Where the hell is Barry Trent? If Price gets a sniff of this, he might clam up completely. We need to tell the boss.’

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Barry Trent was sitting on a plastic chair in a very dark damp cellar which had an unsavoury smell to it. The stench clung to the flesh at the back of his throat, making him gag. His wife, Rosemary, was sitting back to back on another chair. He could feel her body quivering against the cold. She was sobbing uncontrollably. They were bound with duct tape, blindfolded, and gagged. He could hear water dripping in the corner to his right and the scurrying sound of rats all around. He wanted to be able to reassure Rosemary but he couldn’t. It was physically impossible. Even if he could speak, she wouldn’t believe a word he said anymore. She would leave him this time. There was no doubt about it.

  The first time he’d been questioned at the plant, her father had insisted she leave him and come home to live with her parents. He was a circuit judge and a lifelong member of the Masonic community, as were the officers who’d investigated the raid. They were convinced he was involved in the supply chain but couldn’t prove it. Barry Trent was never good enough for his daughter, never in a million years. She had her bags packed ready to go but the police released him and told him there would be no further action. They were happy to nail Derek Kio to the wall for possession. There was no point in muddying the waters. A jury wanted simple evidence of guilt. Exploring the possibility of a wider conspiracy would only throw in the element of doubt. Beyond all reasonable doubt. That was the key to a conviction. They had the drugs and they had their suspect, red-handed. There was no need to embark on a fishing trip and complicate things.

  Barry convinced her the entire thing was a sham and it was all contrived by a criminal desperate to implicate management in his conspiracy. It was sour grapes and nothing more. She listened to him and she stayed, although he could always see the shadows of doubt in her eyes. Her father didn’t speak to him again, which made life difficult, especially at Christmas and on birthdays. He knew the investigating officers from the Masonic lodge, and he knew they were straight. They had told him the facts about the Kio case and they told him the truth about why Barry Trent hadn’t been investigated further. Luckily, Rosemary didn’t believe their version of events. The fact they didn’t charge him was enough for her to believe Barry was innocent. If he’d been guilty, they would have charged him. It had been a crossroads in their marriage and although they stayed together, she never looked at him in the same way as she had.

  This was a different situation altogether. There could be no explanation why she was tied to a chair in a cellar, bound and gagged. Whatever happened next, this was the end.

  Everything had been swept under the carpet until that retard Kio got out of prison and started shooting his mouth off. This was on him. He always was a liability. The cellar door opened with a creak and he heard footsteps on wooden stairs. Four sets, maybe five. The voices were male and gruff, smokers and drinkers for sure. One of them laughed and it sounded like he had sandpaper in his windpipe. They removed his blindfold and gag and stood around him in a semicircle. He could smell cigarettes, whisky, and cheap aftershave. He blinked against the light. A single bare light bulb hung from the rafters. There were five men dressed in jeans and leather jackets. One man wore a parka with a fur hood. They had dark hair and olive complexions. Their eyes were full of contempt.

  Barry looked around. His eyes settled on two big oil drums in the corner. They were set on wheels so they could be moved easily. Something in the air was making his eyes water, something caustic.

  ‘Hello, Barry Trent,’ the man in the centre said. His jeans were faded. A black leather jacket hung from wide shoulders. He had an angry scar on his right cheek, which ran from below the eye to his jaw. His right hand was tattooed with an emblem he didn’t recognise. ‘Let me introduce myself. My name is Agon and these are my associates. We’re Albanian businessmen.’ His men laughed. ‘Do you know why you’re here?’

  ‘No,’ Barry said. A heavy punch to the side of his face rocked his brain like a marble in a jam jar. He hadn’t seen it coming and it stunned him.

  ‘Don’t lie to me, Barry Trent,’ Agon said. ‘Every time you lie, we hurt you.’

  ‘I won’t lie to you. Don’t hit me.’

  ‘Okay. Let’s see how we go, shall we?’ Agon said. ‘Do you know Derek Kio?’

  ‘Yes. We worked at the same factory some years ago.’

  ‘Good. That’s the truth but not quite the entire truth. You were in business with Derek Kio, yes?’ Barry wanted to say no but didn’t want another blow to the head. ‘I asked you a question. Were you in business with Kio or not?’ He delayed his answer too long. Another punch sent streaks of white lightening through his brain. ‘Do you like being hit in the face, Barry?’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ Barry said. A tear ran from his eye. It was a tear of helpless frustration. ‘Yes. I worked at Halewood with him, but it was a long time ago.’

  ‘You didn’t just work with him. You were in business with him.’ Barry shook his head. ‘He’s not understanding the rules so we’ll change them. Every time he lies, punch his wife in the face,’ Agon said. Rosemary panicked and was squealing. She began fighting against her bonds.

  ‘No, no! Don’t. Don’t hurt her,’ Barry said, his voice panicked and garbled. ‘Okay, Agon. I was in business with him for a while. Then he was sent to jail.’

  ‘Good. That’s better. Let’s put all the cards on the table.’ Agon grabbed a chair and sat opposite Barry. He looked into his eyes. ‘Derek Kio bought a lot of cocaine from us. He always showed up on time and he always paid cash. After a while, we
began to trust him. His customer base was growing, so we gave him some product on credit. Then he was arrested and put in jail.’

  ‘I didn’t know anything about any product on credit,’ Barry said. ‘We always gave him the cash to buy it outright. I swear I didn’t know anything about this.’

  ‘Whether you knew or not, the facts are the facts. Are you questioning what I’m telling you?’ Agon said, frowning. Anger flashed in his eyes.

  ‘No. Of course not. I’m just saying I didn’t know.’

  ‘This is the problem with this business. There is a lot of money to be made. You all made a lot of money in a short space of time, but people get greedy. You can’t trust anyone in this game. This happens all the time. Your best friend will double-cross you for the right amount of money.’

  ‘I know that but what is it you want from me?’ Barry asked.

  ‘We want our money, that’s all. Just what we’re owed, nothing more.’

  ‘What money?’ Barry asked. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Let me explain it for you. I’m not being clear enough.’ Agon sat back and took a deep breath. ‘Derek Kio never told us about you and your two friends. Kelvin Adams and Glen Price, right?’ Barry nodded. ‘When he was arrested, the police took two kilos of our drugs, which is all part of the gamble we take when we give credit. I accept that but we didn’t know he had partners. We decided we would wait to seek compensation from him when he got out. And we did wait, but he said he didn’t have any money. Of course, that wasn’t acceptable. We persuaded him to try to get it, so he tried an armed robbery and ended up back in jail. That was when we ran out of patience.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Barry said. ‘What has this got to do with me?’

  ‘Derek Kio owes us for four kilos of cocaine plus interest. In today’s market, that’s about three-hundred thousand pounds. Some of our colleagues put pressure on him in jail and that’s when he told us about you and your friends. He told us that you have the money that he owed us, and he thought you would give him his share when he finished his sentence. We pulled some strings and sprung him from prison, but he still couldn’t get us the money he owes.’

  ‘I still don’t see what this has to do with me,’ Barry said. The side of his face was swollen now, turning blue and deep red.

  ‘Derek Kio is dead. We shot him on the street, blew his brains all over the wall,’ Agon said. Barry could feel Rosemary shaking violently. ‘His debt is now your debt. He worked for you and you kept the money you made and hid it from the police when Kio was arrested. Where is it?’

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. Once Derek was arrested, we all went our separate ways and barely spoke again. We thought Derek had the cash hidden somewhere.’ Barry shrugged. He shook his head. ‘Honestly, I don’t know where he put it.’ Another punch to the jaw knocked him off balance. The chair tipped over and he cried out like a scalded cat. ‘Please,’ he shouted. ‘I don’t know where he put the money. Kio must have had it because we didn’t. All we had was a small pot of money we kept for expenses. We all got a few grand each and never talked about it again. Kio must have kept your money.’

  ‘If Derek Kio had the money, he would have paid us what he owed, trust me. When he said he didn’t have it, I believed him. Pick him up.’ Two of the men dragged the chair to its feet. Barry couldn’t hold his mouth closed. He thought his jaw had been broken. Blood and saliva dribbled from his mouth, drooling down his chin. ‘Listen to me, Barry Trent. Listen very carefully. Derek Kio is dead. That’s my bad. Your friend, Kelvin Adams was murdered. It might be an unfortunate coincidence, but I doubt it. Your friend Glen Price has a big house and a new Porsche, now, you can call me suspicious natured if you like but someone isn’t telling everyone the truth.’

  ‘I am telling you the truth,’ Barry said. ‘I really am. We don’t have a big house or new cars. We do okay but we’re not rolling in it. If I knew where the money is, I would tell you.’

  ‘You would?’

  ‘Yes. You have my wife bound and gagged behind me. I don’t know where it is or if it even exists. Honestly, I don’t know anything about it.’

  ‘Do you know what?’ Agon said, nodding. ‘I believe you.’

  ‘You do?’ Barry said. He sighed with relief.

  ‘Yes. I do. I believe you don’t know where our money is.’ Agon stood up. ‘Kill both of them. Put them in the acid barrels.’

  ‘What?’ Barry muttered.

  ‘Put Mrs Trent in first and let him watch. Wait until they’re dissolved before you move them and pour them into the river. Make sure they’re never found.’

  CHAPTER 53

  He scrolled proudly through the news sites, BBC, Sky, ITV, Google, and the online newspapers. They were all carrying the images of Brian Hindley being recovered from the Inland Sea. Some had blurred the face to obscure the fact his eyes were missing, others enhanced it. The image had gone viral on Instagram and Twitter. It was such an enormous buzz. Every comment, good or bad, pumped more adrenalin into his veins. It was sheer ecstasy. He couldn’t remember being prouder of anything he’d done. This was the pinnacle of his achievements in life so far but there was so much more to come. He hadn’t really started yet. The possibilities were endless, and he wanted to explore them all. He watched footage of Mrs Hindley collapsing and there he was, grabbing her arm. Touching her breast with the back of his hand, looking into her eyes and seeing her pain. He paused the image and stared at it. When he looked at his watch, an hour had passed but he had no recollection of it. He let the images run at normal speed. It was all so surreal. Beautifully played out for the world to embrace, and they would embrace it. People loved killers. They would love him. He meant to be remembered for generations to come. People still talked about Jack the Ripper one-hundred and thirty years later. He would make the Ripper look like a choirboy. He would make his own father pale into insignificance and historical obscurity. People remembered the bizarre, the sick, the twisted, and the pure evil killers. They were the ones who time wouldn’t forget and he would be among them. He would walk through history like a God.

  The one thing that was spoiling it all was the fact the press hadn’t connected his work with his father’s legacy. Not yet. There was no mention of the similarities in the murders, yet he had mirrored two of his father’s crimes. They were almost identical. The position and number of stab wounds was the same. Surely, they would see it couldn’t be a coincidence. How could they miss that? He read on through the breaking news sites and thought about it. The conclusion he came to was that the police hadn’t released the facts. They didn’t want the press to connect the murders at all, let alone tie it to a serial killer from the nineties. It was a public image disaster. Senior officers would be inundated with enquiries from the public, the press, and their hierarchy. They had hidden the evidence and it wasn’t acceptable in any way. He looked at pictures of the SIO. A man called Alan Williams and his detective sergeant, Kim Davies. They were responsible for catching him and locking him away for the rest of his life. He wasn’t ready to be caught yet. There was so much to do. The police weren’t being honest with the public and dishonesty riled him. He’d been lied to all his life but he would right that wrong. Many wrongs would be avenged before he was done.

  He went back to the BBC site and found the journalist who had written the article, then did the same for the Daily Mirror, Express, and Mail. Their contact details were simple to find. He typed out a two-page email, detailing the similarities between the Anglesey murders and Peter Moore’s murders. He used an untraceable email provider and pressed send. That would do it. You can’t hide what was happening from the public, he thought. They have a right to know. His artistry needed to be shared with the world, to be admired and talked about. He would be written about for decades, like all serial killers before him. They became legendary. Books about him would be read, films about him watched, documentaries would be made. Millions of people would be in awe of his evil doing. They would be fascinated, captiv
ated, and repulsed by his brutality but they would remember his name. He closed his eyes and imagined his father in his prison cell, watching the news in the morning. He would choke on his breakfast. It was a touching moment, father and son so connected across the miles. Their cosmic energy would merge and become more powerful. He would be so proud of his son for the first time. The news of a copycat would spread around the prison like wildfire. His father had revelled in the notoriety during the trial, waving for the cameras and smiling like a sportsman on a victory lap. He was giving him that notoriety back. It was his gift—the first of many. His next gift would be something so special, the world would never forget it.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  On the range, uniformed officers were scouring the cliff edges, looking for signs of disturbed earth. The spongy soil was deep and dark, covered in thick grasses and moss. Officers from St Asaph were using GPR on any area flagged as a possible burial site. It was a thankless task but most of the ground was rock or shallow earth—they managed to cover a mile of headlands before dinnertime. Alice was losing the will to live when she heard officers calling to her. She could see three of them waving their arms. They were a few hundred yards away, gathered around a rocky outcrop. The grass around it was deep. It was nearly waist height. One of the officers was using a spade to lift something. The GPR unit were moving their machine in a grid pattern.

  ‘What have you got?’ Alice asked. Her hands were deep in her pockets, protected from the wind.

  ‘There’s a board here covered in grass and moss. We’re going to lift it,’ an officer said.

  ‘We’ve got another one,’ a GPR unit sergeant called from about ten yards away.

  ‘Let’s see what’s there,’ Alice said.

  Four officers used spades to prise the corners away from what looked like a metal box, buried in the earth. The lid moved easily and they laid it to one side. There were bales wrapped in black plastic. One of them was open. An officer lifted the corner to reveal bundles of twenty-pound notes.