The Anglesey Murders Box Set

by Conrad Jones

  With the rucksack recovered, Brian wiped the sweat from his brow, bent low and headed down the lane towards the road. He counted each pace from the gate. When he had reached one hundred steps, he turned and walked off the lane into the trees. Ten paces in, he dug another hole and reburied the drone. He patted the soil and stamped it down with his feet and then hid the entrenching tool at the base of a sycamore tree. He had told Lloyd exactly where he had buried the drone the first time, now if he went to check if he had disposed of it, it was gone. There was no way Brian was going to destroy his best drone. He had hand built that machine and it flew like nothing else he had tried. It was mint. Lloyd Jones could go and fuck himself.

  Brian stomped the mud from his boots and headed back to the road. He reached the barrier, grateful that the rain had eased a little. Checking that the road was clear, he turned left and crossed. As he stepped onto the pavement, headlights appeared over the rise ahead of him. He put his head down and walked as fast as he could without running. His heart was pounding in his chest. He could hear the engine and the tyres cutting through the surface water. The headlights dazzled him, turning raindrops into diamonds falling from the darkness above. As the vehicle approached, he glanced up. It was a dark van. His imagination filled it full of Lloyd’s men, armed to the teeth with hammers; knives; axes; baseball bats with barbed wire wrapped around them. He imagined Lloyd at the wheel, sneering at him through the windscreen. He felt his heart rate quicken and his hands turned into fists in his pockets. The van seemed to slow. He stole a momentary look at the driver, a face he didn’t recognise. It wasn’t Lloyd Jones and the driver was alone. It roared by him into the night.

  Brian sighed with relief and broke into a lumbering jog; his midriff wobbled from side to side. His car was a half a mile away, parked on an empty industrial unit. The quicker he got to it, the quicker he could go home, eat a curry, have a hot shower and warm his weary bones. He would ring Lloyd and tell him that the drone was in the river and if he went to check that he had moved it, which he would, it wasn’t where he had buried it anymore. The man was a paranoid wreck but a very dangerous one. Brian had already decided that he wasn’t going to do anything else illegal. He had heard Lloyd and his cronies chatting about using drones to case robberies, lookout for police cars, even to deliver drugs across the city. None of them had the expertise to pilot a drone carrying thousands of pounds worth of merchandise so he had to assume that they meant to use him to fly them. He wasn’t going to do it. No way. Lloyd could fuck off. Brian had thought about his options, which were limited indeed and the only viable option was to move away without telling anyone where he was going. The problem was that he didn’t have any money to live on while he looked for a job and then there was his mum. She was getting old and Brian was her only carer. He had played out the different scenarios over and over in his mind but he hadn’t come up with any answers. The security light at the garage flicked on and he jumped as the light illuminated the forecourt.

  ‘Hello, Brian,’ a familiar voice growled. He knew it was Stu immediately. His bulky figure was silhouetted in the bright light. ‘Now then, where have you been?’

  ‘Me?’ Brian looked around nervously. He wanted the ground to swallow him up. ‘What are you doing here?’ he waffled. He looked up and down the road, praying for help to appear on the horizon. ‘I was sorting out the drone. You know, like I promised Lloyd.’

  ‘That’s good to hear. Where is it, Brian?’ Lloyd asked from behind him. His voice made him jump. Brian turned quickly. His mouth was open in surprise. Lloyd’s huge frame was bathed in light, making him look even bigger. Brian couldn’t answer. His top lip began to quiver again, just like at school. ‘The drone, Brian, where is it?’

  ‘I moved it.’ Brian blurted without thinking. He couldn’t lie to save his own life. ‘I was going to take it to the sea but when I was digging, the sirens went off at the prison.’ He looked from Stu to Lloyd. Their eyes bored into him. ‘You heard the sirens going off, didn’t you?’

  ‘I didn’t hear any sirens, did you, Stu?’

  ‘Nope. I didn’t hear any sirens.’

  ‘They did go off, honestly. I was digging and then all the lights came on and then the sirens went off. It sounded like chaos in there. Anyway, I panicked. I didn’t want to get caught in the open on the way back to my car so I thought I would just move it. I panicked.’ He tried to smile but his lips wouldn’t do as they were instructed. His knees were trembling and he could feel his fingers shaking. He tried to swallow but his throat had dried up. He coughed. ‘It is safe for now, Lloyd. No one can find it but me. It’s safe as houses. Honestly it is.’

  ‘Honestly?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I don’t think that you even know the meaning of the word, Brian,’ Lloyd said, shaking his head.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean that you’re telling me lies, Brian and then you’re using the word ‘honestly’. You moved the drone and then you were going to go back when you thought that I had forgotten about it, weren’t you?’

  ‘I just thought it would be okay there for now, that’s all.’ Brian shrugged. The nerves at the corner of his lips twitched. ‘I mean, it’s a perfectly good drone.’ He looked at Lloyd like a child caught stealing from a shop. ‘I built that with my own hands. It’s my best drone, Lloyd. I just thought it would be okay there for a while and then I could recover it later.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘I was going to dismantle it and use the parts to build another one.’

  ‘There we are,’ Lloyd said, smiling. ‘The truth. You see, that didn’t hurt, did it?’

  ‘No,’ Brian said, shaking his head. He was confused and frightened. ‘I’ll go back and get it if you want me to and I’ll toss it in the bay.’

  ‘Good man. That’s what I asked you to do in the first place,’ Lloyd said. ‘We’ll come with you this time, just to make sure that you do what I asked you to do.’

  ‘You don’t need to go to all that trouble.’ Brian looked from one man to the other. He felt like he was going to lose control of his bowels. ‘I’ll be fine on my own, Lloyd, honestly.’

  ‘There goes that word again, Brian. It just doesn’t sound right when you say it.’ Lloyd shook his head and grinned coldly. ‘You shouldn’t use that word if you don’t mean it.’

  ‘I do mean it, Lloyd,’ Brian said as calmly as he could. ‘I will go and get the drone and throw it in the Straits.’

  ‘What do you think, Stu?’ Lloyd asked, without taking his eyes from Brian. ‘Do you think that we can trust Brian anymore?’

  ‘Not a chance,’ Stu replied gruffly. ‘Look at the size of the fat bastard. He has no will power and no self-respect. You can’t trust a man who has no self-respect. If he doesn’t respect himself, how do you expect him to respect you?’

  ‘There you have it, Brian,’ Lloyd said with a shrug. He took a pack of Lamberts from his pocket and lit one, inhaling deeply. He exhaled as he spoke. ‘You can’t be trusted.’

  ‘You can trust me,’ Brian said, feebly.

  ‘I am cold and I am wet and I am very fucked off that we can’t trust you to do a simple job.’ Lloyd looked up the road towards the trees. ‘You had better take us to the drone before I lose my temper and it had better be where you say it is or mark my words, you will be sorry.’

  ‘I’m already sorry,’ Brian muttered. He turned and crossed the road, the big men followed him, one on each shoulder. ‘I didn’t mean to cause any problems. I panicked when the sirens went off.’

  ‘Shut up. We should take him to the abattoir and have done with the useless lump,’ Stu growled. ‘He would feed the pigs for a week.’ He shoved him hard in the back and Brian stumbled, almost falling. Images of school flashed by in his mind. Being tripped in the corridors, morning breaks, dinnertime breaks, and afternoon breaks was part of his day. Walking more than twenty paces without someone kicking at his ankles from behind was an anomaly. Learning to keep his balance had been essen
tial to remaining upright.

  They reached the barrier and Brian paced out his steps. He took out his mobile and dialled the Nokia again. Lloyd and Stu looked at each other as the mobile’s muffled ringtone came from beneath the earth. Brian went to the base of the sycamore tree and picked up the entrenching tool. He knelt and began to dig. Lloyd stubbed out his cigarette as he watched Brian digging. The earth was still soft and loose and he reached the rucksack in minutes. He picked it up and held it up to show Lloyd. Lloyd reached into his coat and took out a silenced Beretta.

  ‘Keep digging, fat boy,’ Lloyd said, gesturing with the gun. Brian looked shocked for a moment; his mouth open. ‘I said, keep digging!’

  ‘Lloyd, please don’t do this,’ Brian muttered. His hands began to shake as he plunged the spade into the soft earth. ‘I am more use to you alive than dead. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble for you. I only did what I thought was right. I didn’t mean any harm.’

  ‘Shut up and dig,’ Stu snarled. ‘Dig the hole longer!’

  ‘Lloyd,’ Brian said, his voice almost a whisper. ‘I look after my mum, Lloyd. There’s only me left. I’m all she’s got. Give me one more chance, please.’

  ‘If you speak again, I’ll shoot you in the face,’ Lloyd said calmly. ‘Dig it longer. A few more feet this way and another six inches or so down.’ Brian dug with shaking hands for fifteen minutes. ‘That ought to do it, eh, Stu?’

  ‘It should do it.’ Stu grinned in the darkness.

  Brian felt his heart racing. Sweat poured from every pore. His mind searched its darkest recesses for a solution but he couldn’t think of anything to say that would save him. This was the end of the road. Shot dead and buried in a shallow grave. He had always hoped that things would improve as he got older but they hadn’t. Things were always just a different shade of shit but they were always shit. Being buried in a muddy hole was probably all he should have aspired to. It was probably more than he deserved. Tears ran from his eyes, mingling with the rainwater as they crossed his chubby cheeks. He tried to slow down as the hole reached the perfect length for hiding a body. Even a body the size of his. His chest heaved as he tried to control the sobbing. Despite the shitty life he had, he wasn’t ready to die. Not yet. Not like this.

  ‘Please, Lloyd!’ Brian whined.

  ‘Shut your mouth!’

  ‘I’m sorry. Really, I am. I didn’t think.’

  ‘How much did they pay you I wonder?’ Lloyd asked thoughtfully.

  ‘Who?’ Brian asked, confused. ‘How much did who pay me?’

  ‘I told you to shut up, Brian.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘It was a big score for them,’ Lloyd said, tilting his head. ‘There was fifty-grand in coke in that football. That was worth ten times as much on the inside. I bet the Drug Squad thought all their Christmases had come at once when they got that tip but what was it worth to you?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Brian sobbed. He wiped snot from his nose with his sleeve leaving a snail trail. Images of school flashed in his mind once more. His school blazer was always striped with snot on the sleeves. ‘I don’t know anything about any Drug Squad.’

  ‘I told you to shut up and I won’t say it again,’ Lloyd said flatly. ‘I guess that I’ll never know how much a grass gets paid for that kind of information,’ Lloyd sighed. ‘How much was it, Stu?’

  ‘What?’ Stu looked confused.

  ‘How much did they pay you to rat me out?’ He raised the Beretta and fired twice into Stu’s chest. One bullet shattered his breastbone before veering upwards and leaving through the shoulder. The second went through his left lung. Stu collapsed to his knees, a surprised look on his face, before toppling forward onto his front. The muzzle flash blinded Brian and he squeezed his eyes closed tightly and waited to die.

  ‘Help me get him into the hole,’ Lloyd said. Brian opened his eyes and looked at Stuart’s dead body.

  ‘What just happened?’ Brian whispered to himself.

  ‘Grab his legs and pull him into the hole!’ Lloyd snapped. ‘Hurry up.’

  ‘But what just happened?’ Brian seemed dazed as he grabbed Stu’s feet and dragged his body into the grave. Lloyd kicked the limp arms into the hole. ‘What happened, what happened, what happened?’ Brian muttered.

  ‘Bury him properly. Make sure he is well covered and hurry up about it.’

  ‘I don’t understand what just happened,’ Brian sniffled. He shovelled earth onto the dead body. The rain threatened to wash it away as quickly as he put it on. He muttered to himself as he toiled. ‘One minute I thought they were going to kill me, the next I’m burying a body. What just happened?’

  ‘Will you stop wittering for fuck’s sake!’ Lloyd snapped.

  ‘I’m sorry but I’m a bit shocked. You just shot Stuart,’ Brian said in a panic. ‘Twice!’

  ‘Get a grip, Brian. Stuart was a grass,’ Lloyd said, as if it was obvious.

  ‘A grass?’

  ‘A dirty grass. He was feeding information to the police. He made the mistake of thinking that he was smarter than me and that was where he fucked up.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Brian muttered. ‘Stuart was a grass. I never expected that.’

  ‘He was very convincing but he wasn’t as smart as he thought he was,’ Lloyd said. He tapped the side of his head with his forefinger. ‘That was a huge mistake. You don’t think you’re smarter than me do you, Brian?’

  ‘No,’ Brian said nervously. He shook his head and shovelled dirt as fast as his body would allow. There was no doubt in his mind that he was smarter than Lloyd. Lloyd was average intelligence at best but telling him that right now was not the best plan. ‘I don’t think that I’m smarter than you. Not at all. I made a mistake but at no point did I think that I was smarter than you, Lloyd. Not for one minute did I think that. Never in a million years would I think that. Not me. No way.’

  ‘Good because we don’t want you and your old mum ending up in an accident, do we?’

  ‘My mum?’

  ‘Yes. Your mum. If you fuck up, I’ll feed her to the pigs, understand?’ Brian nodded that he did. ‘Is that what you want?’

  ‘No, Lloyd,’ Brian said quietly.

  ‘No, Lloyd is the right answer. Now hurry up and bury that turd and then throw that drone into the river, understand?’

  ‘Yes, Lloyd.’ Brian gulped.

  ‘We’ll send the boys back tomorrow night to dispose of him properly. I have someone else that I need to go and see. Call me when it is done.’ Lloyd checked his watch and walked away into the night.

  Brian knew then that running away from the island was a fantasy. He was burying a dead body. A murdered body. He had colluded in the disposal of a murder victim. There was no way back now. Lloyd Jones had his hooks into him and there was nothing that he could do about it. He was working out his options when a hand gripped his ankle tightly, the nails piercing his skin. Brian tried to turn around but the grip on his leg was too tight. He stumbled onto his knees and cried out.

  ‘Get off me!’

  The ground beneath him began to undulate. Another hand broke through the soil and clawed at his face. Brian grabbed it and pushed it away from him but the blood-stained fingers clawed at him. He stared at the hand, holding it as far away as he could, panic rising. The other hand shifted and gripped his throat. He could hear muffled cursing coming from below him. Fingernails dug deep into his neck; blood trickled from the indents. Brian couldn’t pull away. He gripped the wrist as hard as he could and tried to pull it from his throat. The ground began to rise. He looked to his left and spotted the shovel. It was within his reach. Brian let go of the wrist and scrabbled for it. His fingers touched the handle and he fumbled to pick it up. He wrapped his hand around it, lifted it high above his head and plunged it hard into the loose soil. The grip on his throat loosened. He raised it again and thrust it into the ground. The hand seemed to stiffen and then went limp. Brian lifted the shovel one more time and brought all his w
eight down on it. Stuart’s attempt to escape his grave ended as the blade crushed his larynx. Brian collapsed in a sweaty heap, his breathing deep and laboured. He closed his eyes and tried to fathom what he had done.

  CHAPTER 2

  Peter Clough picked up his fish and chips from the counter and walked towards the door. The Globe chip shop was on his way home from his local, the Holland. He checked the time. It was just before one o’clock in the morning.

  ‘You’re the last customer tonight. Goodnight, Peter,’ the owner called after him. ‘Will we see you tomorrow?’

  ‘I’m on nights until Wednesday,’ Peter said, grimacing. ‘I’ll see you Thursday.’

  ‘Take care until then.’

  ‘Will do, night mate.’

  The smell of vinegar was making his mouth water and he plunged the plastic fork into the tray and came out with a chip that was smothered in mushy peas. He blew on it twice and then put it into his mouth. It burned as he chewed it but it was worth the brief pain. He was starving hungry. An eight-hour shift and four pints of lager had given him an appetite that he hadn’t had for weeks. The death of his father the month before had hit him hard and he was struggling to deal with it. Eating had been the last thing on his mind. Work had been very kind to him. They insisted that he took leave and didn’t return until he was ready. And they had continued to give him full pay all the time he was off. The press and the public were quick to bash the prison service at every opportunity but they didn’t see past the headlines. The service was like a family. There were some bent officers, bad apples but they were in every workplace. Most of the time, everyone had each other’s back. They looked out for their colleagues. They had to; it was a dangerous environment to work in. He couldn’t thank them enough for the support they had shown to him while his father was dying and following his death. The three weeks leave had given him time to grieve and put things into perspective. Things were slowly returning to normal, his appetite included.