by Conrad Jones
‘Nice house,’ Alan said, making his way down the hallway into a kitchen the size of a squash court. High-gloss units lined every wall and an island feature dominated the centre. The fridge freezer was as wide as a double wardrobe. Through the window, he could see Bob Dewhurst at the back of the property. They headed across the kitchen to the back door, which was open. It led onto an external dining area, which was concreted; there was a lawn and garden beyond. It overlooked the dunes, the bay and Holyhead mountain beyond. ‘Great view. Who owns the place?’ he asked
‘Doctor Gerard Telford and his wife, Elisha,’ Kim said, without checking her phone. ‘She’s a dentist. They are registered as living in Kent but are currently working in Dubai. We can’t get hold of them but we’re trying.’
‘A doctor and a dentist from Kent, who work in Dubai, need a beachfront property on Anglesey. That figures,’ Alan said, assessing the kitchen as they passed through. ‘Look at this kitchen. It probably cost more than my car,’ he added.
‘Your car is a twenty-year old BMW estate.’
‘And your point is what?’ Alan said, frowning.
‘My jeans cost more than your car.’
‘That’s a bit harsh,’ Alan said. He stepped outside and approached Bob. Two paramedics were covering up the bloody body of a female. It was clear the victim was beyond medical help. ‘Do we know who she is?’
‘Sort of,’ Bob said. ‘It’s all a bit odd if you ask me.’
‘Can you be a bit more cryptic,’ Alan said. ‘I nearly had a clue what you were talking about.’
‘Sorry. I was thinking aloud. According to this passport, her name is Mary Adams,’ Bob said, handing an evidence bag to Alan. ‘The address is in a village south of Cork.’
‘Where was the passport?’ Alan asked, frowning.
‘In her back pocket,’ Bob said. ‘Like I said, it’s a bit odd. Why walk around with your passport in your pocket?’
‘Maybe she’s used it recently,’ Kim said.
‘She’s from Southern Ireland?’ Alan said. ‘That’s not so odd.’
‘Take a look yourself.’
Alan approached the body. The woman was in her thirties, tanned with short dark hair. Her eyes were green like a cat and her teeth were perfect. Too perfect to be original. There was a deep gash down the centre of her forehead surrounded by bruising. Her neck was twisted at an unnatural angle. He noticed a tattoo on her left hand, just below the thumb.
‘A crescent moon and a star tattoo,’ Alan said, nodding. Her shoes were Prada and the rings on her fingers were expensive. White gold or platinum, definitely not silver. ‘She was wealthy,’ he added.
‘Whoever owns this place is wealthy. Certainly, doesn’t look to me like she’s come straight from Cork.’ Bob pointed to the passport. ‘Odds on that’s a fake.’
‘What do women from Cork look like?’ Alan asked frowning.
‘Pale, and ginger,’ Bob said.
‘You’re not stereotyping are you, Bob?’ Kim asked, frowning.
‘Heaven forbid,’ Alan agreed.
‘I’m just making an observation,’ Bob said. ‘You don’t get a tan like that in Cork. It’s freezing.’
‘The owners work in Dubai,’ Kim said. ‘Maybe she visited them recently. It would explain the passport.’
‘Who called it in?’ Alan asked.
‘The young couple over there,’ Bob said, gesturing to their left. Alan hadn’t noticed them. They were on the beach beyond the boundary wall. The male was smoking and slouched against a concrete bollard, which stopped vehicles driving onto the beach. The female was biting her nails and watching the police setting up a cordon. The space between them indicated there was an issue. Maybe a lovers’ spat, Alan thought.
‘Let’s have a word with them before we go upstairs,’ Alan said. ‘I want to hear what they saw before we make any assumptions.’
‘You’re the boss,’ Kim said. ‘There’s a gate there.’
They crossed the patio to an ornate iron gate, which led to a path between the houses and the beach. The young couple looked visibly shaken by what they had witnessed. The male lit another cigarette as they approached. He looked edgy and preoccupied.
‘Thank you for waiting,’ Alan said. ‘An officer will take statements from you shortly. I’m DI Williams and this is DS Davies. What are your names?’
‘I’m Kelly Williams,’ Kelly said, taking the lead. She was naturally pretty. Not much makeup. ‘No relation to you, I don’t think,’ she smiled, nervously.
‘I doubt it to be honest. All my relations are in Scotland,’ Alan said, shaking his head. ‘The island relatives are no longer with us. Nice to meet you, Kelly.’ He turned to her companion. ‘And you are?’
‘Jack Henderson,’ he said. He inhaled deeply on his cigarette. Jack didn’t look happy.
‘Can you tell us what you saw?’ Alan asked.
‘We were walking on the beach, just over there,’ Kelly said. ‘I was facing the house and movement in the window caught my eye. I wasn’t sure what I was seeing at first but then I realised it was a woman. She was banging on the patio doors.’ She paused. ‘There was blood on her hands and her face. It was all over the glass.’
‘It was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen,’ Jack added. ‘One minute she was there, the next she was gone.’
‘What do you mean?’ Alan asked.
‘It was as if she was pulled back away from the glass but really hard,’ Jack said. ‘Like she was yanked backwards.’
‘Someone was behind her,’ Kelly said. ‘At least one person, probably two. They yanked her away but a few seconds later, she came back, banging on the glass again. It was awful. I could see she was terrified. She was shouting for help, well, screaming actually and banging on the glass.’
‘Could you hear her?’ Kim asked.
‘No. We were too far away.’
‘And it was obvious that she was shouting for help?’ Kim asked.
‘Yes. I could see her lips,’ Kelly said. ‘And the expression on her face. She was terrified, trying to get away from someone. Whoever was behind her, obviously.’
‘Did you see who she was trying to get away from?’ Alan asked.
‘Not straightaway,’ Kelly said. She glanced at Jack and he looked away. ‘The light was reflecting from the glass. I could see her but not who was behind her. Then she was pulled away again but when she came back this time, her head hit the glass and she crashed through it. It just disintegrated, shattered into pieces but she kept going.’ Kelly wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. ‘She stumbled into the balcony rail and for a moment I thought she would stop but the impetus carried her over the rail. It was like slow motion. She tumbled headfirst over the balcony. I heard her scream. Then she hit the floor and that was it.’
‘I was calling you when she fell,’ Jack added. ‘She didn’t try to stop herself from falling. She tipped upside down and fell. I heard her hit the concrete. Then she was quiet. We went to the wall and looked over to see if we could help her but she was still and her eyes were open. There was blood coming out of her ears and her mouth. We knew she was dead and we were worried about whoever was in the house. So, we just waited for the ambulance and your guys to arrive.’ The couple looked at each other again. It was Kelly’s turn to look away this time.
‘Did you see who she was trying to get away from?’ Alan asked Kelly. He studied her expression. She was in shock. He could see it in her eyes. But there was something else there too. ‘After she fell, I mean.’
‘There was a man there,’ Kelly said.
‘On the balcony?’ Alan asked.
‘No. He was inside.’
‘What was he doing?’
‘He was standing there staring at us.’
‘Can you tell me what he looked like?’
‘He was huge. As wide as he was tall,’ Kelly said.
‘Could you see his skin?’ Alan asked.
‘He was white. His face was mostly in the shadows but I could see his
eyes. They were dark. Very dark,’ Kelly said.
‘What did he do?’ Alan asked.
‘Do?’ Kelly asked, confused.
‘Did he step onto the balcony or look to see if she was still alive?’
‘No. He just stood there like a statue, staring,’ Kelly said. ‘Jack spoke to me and I looked away for a second. When I looked back, he was gone.’
‘What colour was his hair?’ Kim asked.
‘I couldn’t see his hair. He was too tall.’ Kelly thought back. ‘There was something odd about him.’
‘Odd how?’
‘I can’t put my finger on it,’ Kelly said. ‘His face wasn’t right somehow. Expressionless. There’s something wrong with his skin.’
‘Can you explain what you mean?’ Kim asked. She sensed Kelly was holding back.
‘I’m not sure what I’m trying to say,’ Kelly said. ‘If you watched someone smash through a glass door and fall off a balcony, you would be scared or startled or something but his expression was blank.’ Kelly shrugged. She appeared frightened. ‘He looked at me as if nothing had happened.’
‘How old would you say he was?’
‘I don’t know,’ Kelly said. ‘He was too far away and there was too much shadow and it all happened so quickly.’
‘Roughly?’ Alan said.
‘Not as old as you,’ Kelly said. Alan smiled. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude or anything.’
‘Don’t worry. No offence taken. After she fell, did you see anyone else, coming or going?’ Alan asked. The couple swapped glances again. Kelly looked down at the floor.
‘No. Sorry. We didn’t see anyone,’ Kelly said. Alan caught the lie but wasn’t sure why she would lie. ‘Do you know who she is?’ Kelly asked.
‘We can’t say just yet,’ Kim said. ‘Why?’
‘I was wondering if she was from the island,’ Kelly said.
‘We don’t think so,’ Alan said. He waved to a uniformed officer and they approached. ‘This is Kelly Williams and this is Jack Henderson. We need a detailed statement from both of them please.’ He turned back to the couple. ‘Do you live together?’ he asked. Jack looked away and blushed.
‘No,’ Kelly said. ‘It’s early days yet.’
‘I see. Thank you for calling this in. We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions. Please contact me directly if you think of anything else at all, no matter how insignificant you think it is,’ Alan said.
‘Okay. We will,’ Kelly said, nodding. Her eyes told a different story. The couple walked away with the constable. Alan watched them leave. There was a cloud hanging over them. He could sense it. They would need to speak to them again.
‘We need to take a look inside,’ Alan said to Kim. ‘We need to make sense of what happened to Mary Adams.’
They walked into the house and Bob gave them forensic suits and overshoes. Alan briefly studied the ground floor on the way to the stairs. It was separated into a games room with a pool table and cinema room and a reading room lined with bookshelves and a leather-topped desk. A door beneath the staircase drew his attention. He tried the handle but it was locked.
‘Have you seen any keys?’ Alan asked Bob.
‘There was nothing on her body.’ Bob shook his head. ‘Maybe they’re upstairs. We had a brief look around but I didn’t notice any.’ Alan knocked on the wall with his knuckles. It sounded hollow. ‘It could be storage space under the staircase or steps to a cellar,’ Bob said.
‘These old houses all had cellars,’ Alan said. ‘We’ll check for a key while we’re upstairs. How long on the CSI unit?’
‘Pamela Stone said they would be here within the hour,’ Bob said. ‘That was about forty minutes ago.’
‘Okay.’
Alan climbed the stairs to a wide landing, which opened into the lounge. The patio doors were directly in front of them. Glass shards covered the laminate floor, glinting in the winter sunlight. Congealed blood pooled on the balcony and the interior floor. The furniture in the room was positioned to make the most of the view. All the seating faced the beach. There was a patio set on the balcony. Metal framed with a glass table-top and an umbrella stand although there was no sign of the umbrella. Stored away for the winter or blown away, he thought. Umbrellas don’t fare well on Anglesey. The chairs were pushed under the table neatly. A thin layer of sand coated everything on the balcony, carried there on the wind. A single set of footprints in the sand led from the doors to the balcony. Drops of blood stained the sand.
‘She was bleeding heavily before she hit the glass,’ Alan said. He walked away from the patio doors to the other side of the room, which overlooked the road to the front of the house. It was fifteen metres at least. There was a blood trail from one side to the other. He spotted a circular dent in the wall. It was surrounded by blood spatter. He tapped the wall with his fingertips. ‘Plasterboard. The indentation could have been made by someone’s head?’
‘Agreed,’ Kim said. ‘It’s too big to be a fist and too wide to be a hammer or other blunt instrument.’
There were two glasses on a marble coffee table. They looked to be expensive crystal. Alan picked one up with a gloved hand and sniffed it.
‘Whisky,’ he said, looking around. In the far corner of the room, a bar had been built into the wall. Downlights illuminated it and louvre doors hid it from view when they were closed. He scanned the bottles of spirits. Everything was at the expensive end of the range. Single malts, Polish vodka, boutique gins that he had never heard of. None of it was from the supermarket. ‘They have expensive taste.’ There was no blood around the bar or that side of the room.
‘What do you think happened?’ Kim asked.
‘There were two or three people in the room.’
‘Why three? There are only two glasses.
‘I’m surmising someone was driving,’ Alan said. Kim nodded. ‘They were sitting on the sofas, two that side, one on the other, drinking scotch. Something happened and one of them tried to leave. The others stopped her.’
‘Mary Adams,’ Kim said, nodding. ‘Her head is smashed into the wall over there. She tried to escape, bleeding profusely from her head but she couldn’t for some reason, so she ran to the patio doors either to look for help or to escape.’ Alan tried to slide the doors open but they wouldn’t budge. ‘She couldn’t open them because they were locked, so she tried to attract attention by banging on the glass.’
‘I’m with you so far,’ Alan agreed.
‘According to our witness, she was pulled back into the room several times by someone, which might explain the amount of blood around that area.’ Kim pointed to the pooling inside the room. ‘She broke free and stumbled into the glass, which shattered. Her momentum carried her into the balcony rail but because it’s low, below her waist, she tumbled over.’
‘Maybe she couldn’t see,’ Alan said. ‘She may have had blood in her eyes or the breaking glass frightened her and instinctively, she closed them.’
‘The impact would have stunned her either way,’ Kim said.
‘I’m okay with all that,’ Alan said. He moved a tea-towel that was on the bar next to some glasses. ‘Here are the keys,’ he said, picking them up to inspect them. ‘What I want to know is who Mary Adams was drinking with and why they didn’t wait around to see if she was dead.’
‘Pissed off boyfriend? Maybe an argument which got out of hand,’ Kim said.
‘Why run if it was an argument?’
‘Who knows? They clearly weren’t good friends as they didn’t call an ambulance,’ Kim said. ‘I’ll get uniform to knock on doors and see if we can shine any light on who actually lives here. The place looks like a show home to me. What do you think?’
‘I agree. It doesn’t look lived in. Ask Bob to go and check the kitchen,’ Alan said. ‘See if there’s anything in the fridge and cupboards. These whisky glasses are the only thing out of place from what I can see. Take the keys with you.’ Kim went downstairs to speak to Bob and organise a door-to-door enquiry.
Alan climbed the stairs to the top floor. Everything smelled new. A quick look around revealed four bedrooms, all ensuite, a small office and a huge bathroom. All the bedrooms were pristine and unmade. The bedding was stored in zip-lock containers in the wardrobes. Quilts, pillows, sheets, towels and dressing gowns all looked new and unused, ready and waiting for visitors to arrive. The bathrooms were stocked with soaps and lotions but everything was unopened. Mary Adams didn’t live in the house. No one did.
‘Alan!’ Kim called from downstairs.
‘What?’ he said, reaching the landing. She sounded panicked, which wasn’t like her.
‘You’d better come and see this,’ she called.
‘What’s wrong? he asked, descending to the middle floor. ‘Is the house on fire?’ No one replied. He reached the downstairs hallway. Kim and the other officers were gathered around the door beneath the stairs. ‘What’s all the fuss about?’
‘There are dead people down there,’ Kim said, calmly. Alan stopped in his tracks. The smell of decomposition drifted to him.
‘Dead people, plural?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ Kim nodded. ‘Three or four at least.’
Chapter 8
Detective Superintendent Anne Parry was based at the Matrix headquarters, Speke, Liverpool. The Matrix unit dealt with serious organised crime in the city and beyond. It was such a problem that Matrix warranted the building of their own headquarters. The successful criminal outfits on Merseyside had international operations that were beyond the reach of normal policing. Recently, Anne and her team had been key in bringing down several notorious criminal gangs. Being sent to the scene of a historic body dump was a distraction from her current workload but in this case, a necessary one. She arrived at the construction site on the outskirts of the city, where the gruesome find had been made. An extension to an established retail park near the airport was being built and the remains of two people uncovered in a chemical drum. The condition of the bodies indicated the crime was committed many years before, which meant the trail wouldn’t just be cold, it would be virtually non-existent.