Desolate Sands Crime Book 5 (Detective Alec Ramsay Crime Mystery Suspense Series)

by Conrad Jones

  “How can we help?” Geoff appeared in the doorway. He looked calm but concerned. Brendon stood behind him looking sheepish and pale. “Have you found something?”

  “Step inside,” Alec waved them in. Brendon hesitated but Stirling loomed behind him blocking any exit. “We have found two sports bottles laced with anti-freeze. They were in the fridge.”

  “Bollocks!” Brendon looked surprised. “There’s no way!”

  “I’m sorry” Alec shook his head. “ What do you think? That we made it up, or planted them there?”

  “Fuck knows!”

  “You don’t believe us?”

  “In the fridge?” Brendon was incredulous. He glared at Geoff. “Are they having a fucking giraffe?”

  “Shut up, Brendon,” Geoff said calmly. “Listen to the detective.”

  “Did she use isotonic drinks regularly?”

  “Yes,” Geoff said. “She jogged around the grounds every day.”

  “We think the anti-freeze was injected into the bottles,” Kathy added. Geoff looked thoughtful while Brendon went pale. “It has a sweet taste, so she wouldn’t have noticed the difference.”

  “Obviously, this is very concerning. I’ll increase the security at once,” Geoff said sternly. “After what happened to John, we can’t be too careful.”

  “I don’t think that anyone breached your perimeter, broke into the house and then injected antifreeze into two bottles in the fridge. Do you?” Alec said flatly.

  “It would seem improbable,” Geoff agreed, “but not impossible.”

  “Who do these wellingtons belong to?” Kathy interrupted.

  Geoff looked at Brendon. Brendon shook his head slowly and bit his bottom lip. “They’re my dad’s.”

  “Your dad was a size nine,” Kathy said matter of factly. Everyone turned to look at her. “I had to read his autopsy report which was sent from Amsterdam. He was a nine, they are a size eleven.”

  “He wore thick socks,” Brendon mumbled. He looked at the ceiling for inspiration which made him appear both a little low on intelligence and guilty. “What does it matter anyway?”

  “It doesn’t, unless the DNA says they belong to someone else and the sand and soil samples are traced to crime scenes, then of course, it will matter a great deal.” Kathy said aloofly.

  “The footprints we cast at the pond were an eleven weren’t they?” Stirling feigned doubt.

  “They were,” Alec nodded and stared at Brendon. “The pond where Keegan was dumped.”

  “Right next to where Richard Tibbs said that you threw the dog collar into a bin,” Stirling added. “Maybe he saw you dumping Keegan and decided to fit you up.”

  Brendon was about to speak but Geoff held up his hand to stop him. “Be quiet, Brendon, they’re fishing for a reaction.”

  “Can you open the BMW, please?” Kathy changed tack.

  “That’s my dad’s car.” Brendon was defensive. He folded his arms across his chest. “Why do you need to look inside that?”

  “Just open the car, Brendon,” Geoff advised. He looked sternly at the younger man.

  “I don’t have a key.”

  “You do,” Geoff Ryder pointed to his pocket. “They are on your house keys.”

  “Tosser!”

  “Just open it!” Geoff snapped.

  “Do you go fishing?” Stirling asked. He walked to a bench where the fishing twine had been bagged for examination and held it up. “We found some of this very same brand at Richard Tibbs’s home.”

  “What is he going on about?” Brendon flushed red with anger. “I’ve had enough of this shit.” He tried to walk out of the garage but Stirling blocked his path. “Let me pass.”

  “Open the vehicle, please,” Stirling smiled. Brendon began to tremble with anxiety. His temple pulsed visibly, as his frustration intensified. “Open the BMW, now, Brendon,” he added calmly.

  Brendon stepped backwards a pace and took a bunch of keys from his pocket. He seemed to stare at them as if they were alien to him. The alarm fob was part of the bunch, clearly marked with the manufacturer’s branding. “I don’t see why you want to search my dad’s car. He’s not even buried yet, and you,” he pointed a shaking finger at Geoff, “You’re supposed to work for him. You let these bastards into our home. You’re a conniving leach!” The indicators flashed as the locks clicked audibly. A loud beeping confirmed that it was open. “I remember him buying this car,” he added, as if in a dream. “I wanted a BMW but he said that they were too fast for me. He always put me down. He always thought that I was stupid, but I’m not stupid.” He shook his head and looked at the faces around him. They stared at him as if he was stupid too. “He said that we could have a family BMW, which was the nearest that I would get to owning one. We saw this and thought that it was ideal for towing the ski and storing the camping gear. Although it’s an estate model, it’s a high powered M3 class with a V10 supercharged engine. I had a hundred and sixty out of it once. I took it whenever they were away.”

  Kathy opened the driver’s door and reached inside, popping the tailgate. It opened slowly, in one fluid movement. She looked in and sprayed Luminol across the dark material. A mist settled across the fibres and she waited for what felt like an age for it to react. Brendon stood rigid as she took an ultraviolet torch and shined it into the rear. Purple blobs appeared, concentrated in the centre and becoming less prevalent near the edges. Alec and Stirling nodded to each other. “It’s positive for blood, lots of it,” Kathy said without turning around. She continued to spray inside. The more she sprayed, the more blood she found. Kathy scraped samples and put them into specimen pots.

  “Don’t say anything,” Geoff Ryder said. He looked pale and drawn, shocked by the implications of what was about to happen. “Not a word, Brendon, until I can work out a way to sort this out.”

  “Arrest him,” Alec said solemnly.

  “For what?” Geoff asked.

  “The murder of Charlie Keegan.”

  “Don’t say anything, Brendon,” Geoff touched his arm and looked solemnly into his eyes. He tried to reassure him. “I’ll be at the station when you get there.”

  His nephew smiled and shook his head. “Fuck off, Uncle Geoff,” Brendon said. A gunshot rang out; the noise was deafening in the confined space of the garage. Geoff clutched his lower abdomen, blood poured between his fingers as he grabbed at the wound. He stared at the blood in disbelief, his eyes widened and his lips moved silently. His legs gave way and he sat down hard on the floor. “Put your hands up!” Brendon aimed the pistol at Alec. It was a Sig Sauer, 9 mm. Alec knew that if the clip was full, there were enough bullets to shoot them all, without reloading. “Hands up now!”

  “Don’t do this, Brendon,” Geoff groaned.

  “Shut up, you snake!”

  “We’re not armed, Brendon,” Alec said raising his hands. He kept his voice calm and kneeled next to the older Ryder. Blood was running between his fingers profusely and pooling around him. “Your uncle needs an ambulance or he will die.”

  “He needs a backbone,” Brendon replied curtly. He activated the garage door with the key fob and it opened quietly, little more than a hum. Stirling moved quickly for a big man. He ducked beneath the wing of the car and edged along it towards a tool rack. Brendon was on to him immediately. He bent down and looked beneath the car and then fired off two rounds.

  “Okay, okay!” Stirling shouted. He stood up with his hands raised. His face was as dark as thunder, but there was nothing that he could do against a nine millimetre automatic.

  “Get inside the kitchen, all of you!” Brendon shouted. He gestured towards the door with the gun. Stirling and Alec picked up Geoff Ryder and Kathy pressed a large gauze pad over the wound. Brendon climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Alec heard the engine roaring and the tyres squealed, as it reversed rapidly out of the garage. It stopped for a second as Brendon steered it towards the driveway and then a wave of gravel clattered against the doors as he sped away into
the night.

  Chapter 44

  One Year Later

  The Iron Men stood stoic in the face of the oncoming storm. Gale force winds were combining with high tides to smash the North West coastline. The sky was gunmetal grey and the low clouds tumbled, twisted and turned themselves inside out as they raced inland. Alec marvelled, as breakers the size of buses crashed over the statues, enveloping them and then retreating as a ton of white foam, before being replaced by the next powerful wave. The Iron Men would be battered and swamped, submerged and battered again but they would remain in place, undamaged by the relentless elements. Annie Jones stood next to him, enjoying the display of power which Mother Nature was putting on. She could feel the rumble of the breaking waves vibrating in her chest. It was something she had only experienced at the point of take off, or in close proximity to a speeding express train. The familiar scent of the sea was like a tonic and she breathed it in deeply and held it in her lungs as long as she could, before releasing it.

  Her eye patch had taken some getting used to, but she found it infinitely more comfortable than the glass eye that they had offered her. She couldn’t get on with it and hated the way it looked. They offered her eye patches in different shapes and colours. She felt more comfortable in them. The doctor advised her to give the glass eye a chance, but in the end she settled for the patches. Although it attracted a few odd looks, she preferred the fact that the patch made it obvious that she had suffered a traumatic eye injury, whereas the glass eye encouraged the curious to stare. She hated being stared at, so the patches won. The force had been incredibly supportive, to the point where they had offered her early retirement on full pension, but she refused. Annie couldn’t sit at home and fester. She was an active woman with an active brain and more to the point, she was a damn good Detective Inspector. Having one eye wouldn’t change that in the slightest.

  Brendon Ryder was still in the wind. During her recovery, Annie had followed the case intently and upon her return to work, she immersed herself in the Crosby Beach Murders. Richard Tibbs had proved impossible to interrogate. His mental condition was deteriorating daily and he flatly refused to talk to Annie, who he blamed completely for his plight. Just the mention of her name sent him into a violent rage. Alec had managed a fifteen minute interview with him, during which he belligerently denied murdering Lacey Taylor or the Butcher’s victims and he stuck vehemently to the story of his wife and child. Annie wasn’t convinced either way. All the signposts were pointing in different directions and Richard Tibbs had become an enigma. He was a puzzle with no solution.

  When all the requested information had been gathered, Annie discovered there were no records of a marriage, a birth or a suicide. What had really happened in Iraq had been buried so deep that it was lost. His multiple identities had muddied the waters further, to the point where she doubted if even Richard Tibbs could remember the truth. The fact was that he was unstable and a danger to society. He had been sectioned and incarceration only added fuel to the fires that had destroyed his sanity. One thing for certain was that if the Iron Men could speak, she would have the answers that she sought so desperately. She shivered against the wind and hunched her shoulders, then smiled thinly at Alec. He smiled back with sympathy in his eyes. Sympathy was something she rarely gave and she definitely didn’t require any herself.

  “I am not sure that I want to do this?” Alec said. “I feel like we’re scratching the scab from a sore.”

  “If it gives us answers, then bring it on.”

  “I feel like we’re about to step into the weird world of the psychopath again, where nothing ever adds up or makes sense,” he shook his head and shrugged, “I suppose that's what makes them so special. Are you ready?”

  “There’s nothing else that I would rather do right now,” Annie replied assertively. “I lost an eye, not my nerve.”

  “That’s a good job, because Kathy is coming,” he gestured towards the white-clad figure approaching. “Let’s hope this is the breakthrough we’ve waited for.” They turned from the sea and walked towards the path which weaved between the huge sand dunes. Grains of sand filled the air and Annie could feel it in her hair, in her ears and even in her mouth. “Hi, Kathy,” Alec greeted her.

  “Hello,” she smiled and tilted her head into the wind. “Admiring the view? It’s impressive isn’t it?” She looked at the mountainous waves. “There was a guy windsurfing earlier, believe it or not.”

  “He’s probably reached Prestatyn by now,” Annie joked. “What have you found?” she asked, eager for the news.

  “The dogs found a female. They found her between the dunes and the woods,” Kathy shouted over the howling wind. “Follow me,” she waved a gloved hand and trudged off over the sand. Alec zipped his bubble jacket beneath his chin and dug his hands deep into his pockets before following her. “She was just under a mile away from our first search area and the pond, but when we expanded it to include the area where Geoff Ryder told us to look, the dogs found her almost immediately. I’m beginning to think that we’ve been played all along on this one.”

  “Well, hopefully this will throw some light onto it all,” Annie shouted.

  Alec nodded and kept his thoughts to himself. Until he was sure what they had found, he couldn’t commit to one theory or another. As they weaved between the massive dunes, the wind became less powerful but it carried minute grains of sand which were painful on the face. The treeline loomed closer and a white crime scene tent flapped wildly, threatening to leave the beach and take to the skies in a hurry. Yellow crime scene tape, bowed by the wind, formed a perimeter around it. “Are you sure it’s her?” Alec asked as they reached the gazebo.

  “As sure as I can be, until we get her to the lab.” She opened the flap and Alec ducked beneath it. Annie paused and took a deep breath before following them.

  Stirling was already at the scene and he looked up from the victim, without removing the gauze from his nose. “Alright, Guv,” he said, allowing the singular greeting to apply to both of his senior officers. “This is crazy,” he said. “I think we need to rethink the entire case.”

  “I agree,” Annie said. “Brendon Ryder fitted up Tibbs. We know that the sand on the shovel at the Ryders’ house matched the sand from the beach and the soil samples matched Tibbs’s garden, therefore it was used to dig at both places.”

  “And the samples from the wellingtons matched too,” Kathy reminded them. “The DNA inside the boots was Brendon’s.”

  “Brendon Ryder dug up the dog and planted it for us to find, so that we would focus on Tibbs?” Alec asked.

  “He had no choice once Tibbs had put him at the scene,” Stirling said. “Once we found Keegan in the pond, it was only a matter of time before we looked at the Ryders.”

  “The chances are that he disposed of Keegan and Taylor at the same time roughly?” Kathy said.

  “The blood in the BMW matched Keegan and Taylor. He brought them out here, buried her and then dumped Keegan in the pond.” Annie thought out loud. “Tibbs must have spotted him at the reserve just like he said that he did. If he hadn’t come to the station, we never would have found the others. It’s no wonder he flipped.”

  “Just remember what he did to you, Annie,” Kathy commented.

  Annie shrugged and pointed to her eye patch. “I’m hardly likely to forget it, am I?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be flippant.”

  “No offense taken.” Annie nodded at the body for her to continue.

  “It’s the same MO as the other prawns,” Kathy said as she pointed to the half buried victim. “Medical tubing glued into the nostrils and stitching of the eyelids and lips with fishing twine. I can tell from the way the cheeks have sagged that her teeth have been removed. The blue rose tattoo on her left shoulder matches the distinguishing marks given to us by her daughter.”

  “Is that enough?”

  “Her hair matches and so does this sovereign ring,” Kathy pointed to her hand as she spoke, “Mee
t Lacey Taylor.”

  “I don’t know whether to be surprised, or not,” Alec mumbled. “I am somewhere between disappointment and relief.”

  “She was under our noses all this time,” Stirling sighed.

  “We couldn’t search the entire coastline,” Alec said.

  “We wouldn’t have found her without Geoff Ryder talking. I think he had a lot of time to think while he was recovering from the bullet in the guts,” Stirling said gruffly. “Having said that, he didn’t really give us anything until you came back to work, Guv,” he said to Annie.

  “Maybe he was sympathetic to another invalid,” she said sarcastically. “Losing six inches of your large intestine and suffering a broken pelvis can change your outlook on things, I suppose. If he had been more forthcoming originally, we would have got to this point twelve months ago.”

  “I got the impression that he wanted us to find out about Brendon,” Alec added. “I honestly believe that if he hadn’t been a blood relative, he would have informed us of his concerns much earlier. I think loyalty blinkered him; loyalty to his dead cousin and to John Ryder.”

  “When he told me that Brendon came here night-fishing regularly as soon as he could drive,” Annie sighed, “I knew we had it wrong.”

  “Tibbs tried to stitch him up and he lied about why he was here,” Alec said. “If anyone else had told us that, we would have believed them immediately.”

  “All the way,” Annie agreed. “From the moment Richard Tibbs walked into the station, we’ve been chasing shadows but now we know that Brendon Ryder killed Lacey Taylor and that he’s the Butcher.”

  “All we need to do now is find him,” Alec frowned as he spoke. The wind seemed to become more intense, ripping at the canvas as if it was desperate to get inside. “We still don’t have a clue where he went to.”