by Conrad Jones
‘Yes,’ Wayne, agreed reluctantly.
‘Were you upset about it?’
‘Not really,’ Wayne said. He blushed again. ‘We weren’t deadly serious or anything.’
‘Obviously, we have her phone records. Some of the text messages you sent to her sound like you were very upset about it,’ Chod said. ‘In fact, they sound a little desperate.’ He looked at Wayne and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Chod turned the laptop so Wayne could read some of the messages they’d taken from her phone. ‘A couple sound suicidal and then they get increasingly aggressive. Then she changed her number.’
‘I was annoyed with myself, not Chelle. It wasn’t her fault it was mine and I was angry. I don’t recall sending those messages. Probably after a few drinks,’ Wayne said. ‘Don’t text or go on Facebook after a few sherbets. That’s the law,’ Wayne Joked.
‘A few threats were made?’ Chod said, not smiling.
‘There was nothing malicious in what I said. I was drinking every day and sometimes I was drinking heavily,’ Wayne said, blushing. ‘I don’t recall every message I sent to her but they weren’t to be taken seriously. We can say stupid things when we’re pissed, can’t we?’
‘I don’t know, do you?’
‘Not always but I obviously did back then. I was a bit confused how I felt about the breakup,’ Wayne said. ‘I might have been a bit of a dick but I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m not a bad man for being upset. I didn’t mean any harm.’
‘No one is saying you did but we need to have everything in its place,’ Chod said. ‘This conversation will be irrelevant when we have the DNA results. Whatever happened between you and Hayley Barnes will be the stuff of legend and no one will care if it’s true or not. You understand my point.’ Wayne nodded, confused.
‘How do you know her name?’ Wayne asked, frowning.
‘Hayley Barnes?’
‘Yes.’
‘We’re the police,’ Chod said, shrugging. ‘We have to know things. Sometimes we have to know shit that doesn’t matter, like you cheating with Hayley Barnes, not once but on six different occasions?’ Chod read from the screen.
‘You’ve spoken to Hayley about us?’ Wayne asked, shocked.
‘Yes,’ Chod said, nodding. ‘I’m not sure why you’re so surprised. Obviously, we’ve spoken to her family at length about her previous relationships and yours ended acrimoniously.’ Chod watched Wayne. He looked frightened. Frightened and angry. ‘Hayley told us you stayed at her house when her husband was working nights and that this went on for a number of weeks.’
‘Did she?’ Wayne muttered. ‘I might have on the odd occasion.’
‘Odd occasion being six,’ Chod said. He sat back and folded his arms. ‘This is all very uninteresting but we have to know it because it might be relevant.’ Wayne nodded. He looked baffled. ‘Can you tell me your movements on the day Michelle went missing.’
‘What, all day?’
‘Yes. From the time you opened your eyes until you went to bed,’ Chod said, smiling again. ‘You can leave out anything illegal.’
‘I didn’t do anything illegal,’ Wayne looked shocked and embarrassed.
‘I don’t care what you did one way or the other but we need it on the record,’ Chod said. ‘Start from leaving the house.’
‘Okay. I got up and made a few calls. I have a few jobs on the go at the moment,’ Wayne said. ‘I wanted to make sure everything was organised for next week.’
‘You’re a heating engineer?’ Chod asked. ‘Central heating, boilers and the like?’
‘Yes. I made my calls and then went to Tesco to do a bit of shopping. That was about eleven o’clock,’ Wayne said. ‘I went to Kentucky for my lunch, then I went to see my parents. They live in Valley. I stayed there until about half three and then made my way to the Newry.’
‘So, you got to the fairground at what time?’
‘About six o’clock. I parked on Porth-y-felin hill and popped into the Vic for a pint and then drove down to the Newry and had one in the Boathouse,’ Wayne said. ‘I went up to the fairground and had a walk around and spoke to a few people I know.’
‘Which people?’ Chod asked.
‘Pardon?’ Wayne looked confused.
‘Which people did you speak to?’
‘Just people I know from town,’ Wayne said.
‘Which people from town?’ Chod asked. ‘I’ll need their names.’
‘What for?’
‘To verify you were where you said you were,’ Chod said, shrugging. ‘It’s not a difficult concept to grasp. I ask you where you were, you tell me and we check you’re telling the truth. It’s called police work.’
‘Why would I lie to you?’
‘Who said you are lying?’
‘You’re insinuating I am,’ Wayne said.
‘I’m not insinuating anything,’ Chod said. ‘I’m asking you a perfectly simple question.’
‘Do I need a solicitor?’ Wayne asked, becoming agitated.
‘I don’t know, do you?’ Chod asked. ‘I’m asking you questions about your whereabouts. If you think you need legal advice to tell us who you spoke to at the fairground, we can stop the interview right now and get you a brief.’ Chod looked sternly at Wayne. Wayne withered in his chair. ‘Is there a problem, Wayne?’
‘No. I don’t have a problem but I think you have one,’ Wayne said. ‘I helped Tiffany to find Michelle and I came here to help you. I didn’t expect this kind of scrutiny. I feel like a suspect.’
‘You are a suspect,’ Chod said. He sat back and folded his arms again. He shrugged and smiled. ‘You must understand that. Every man on this island is a suspect until the DNA proves you aren’t. This is not personal, Wayne. You seem to be making a big deal out of a few bog-standard questions.’
‘Sorry. I’m tired and emotionally drained. If I’m being a dick, I apologise,’ Wayne said, rubbing his eyes. He looked up at the ceiling to refocus. ‘Can we go back to where you asked me who I spoke to?’
‘That’s fine by me. Let’s do that,’ Chod said. He smiled to put Wayne at ease but wasn’t smiling on the inside. ‘Can you tell me who you spoke to?’
‘George Mud. Ian McDonald. Sian Smith,’ Wayne said, counting them on his fingers. ‘I was talking to George for a while. Anything to do with music or motorbikes and we can talk for hours.’
‘Okay. We can check that easily enough. Then what did you do?’ Chod asked.
‘I had a burger and walked around for a bit, then I fancied a pint, so I went into the beer tent,’ Wayne said. ‘That’s when I saw Tiffany asleep with her head on the table. I recognised the tattoo on her arm. There was no one with her, so I went over to check if she was alright. She was bladdered and acting oddly.’
‘What time was that?’
‘Seven o’clock,’ Wayne said.
‘You sound sure about that.’
‘I am because Tiff asked me the time when she woke up,’ Wayne said. ‘She was shocked because Chelle had gone for food at half four. That’s why I remember.’
‘Okay. To summarise, you got to the fair about six o’clock, walked around for a bit until seven when you saw Tiffany?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you were with Tiffany until what time?’
‘Until the police sent her and her mum home. I gave them a lift,’ Wayne said.
‘You had your car there. You said earlier.’ Chod said.
‘Yes. My work van.’
‘What make is it?’
‘Ford Transit.’
‘Where did you park it when you arrived?’
‘At the bottom of the Newry, opposite the Boathouse.’
‘Overlooking the boatyard?’ Chod said.
‘Yes. That’s the place.’
‘And you got there about six? Chod asked. He studied Wayne’s face.
‘Yes.’
‘Which side of the road did you park?’
‘The boatyard side.’
‘So, you walked up t
he Newry along the pavement overlooking the boatyard at about six o’clock?’
‘Yes.’
‘Michelle was assaulted sometime after four-thirty at the boatyard,’ Chod said. ‘You didn’t see anything suspicious?’
‘No. Nothing.’ Wayne shrugged. ‘It’s unnerving to think she might have been there when I walked past.’
‘She may have been,’ Chod said, nodding.
‘I didn’t pay the boatyard any attention. When you’ve walked past it once, you’ve seen it a million times. It never changes.’
‘And after you dropped off Tiffany and her mother?’
‘I went home. Tiff called me to tell me they’d found Chelle dead in the marina. I was stunned and had half a bottle of whisky,’ Wayne said. ‘I fell asleep on the couch. I still couldn’t believe it the next day.’
‘Like I said earlier, it takes time,’ Chod said. ‘I think we have everything we need. Except a swab.’ He studied Wayne’s expression. ‘You’re okay giving us a DNA sample?’
‘Yes. Of course,’ Wayne said. Chod and the DC stood up and gathered their things. ‘We may need to talk to you again. Don’t make any plans to travel.’
‘No problem.’
‘I’ll send an officer to take the swabs,’ Chod said. ‘Thanks again for your time.’
They walked out of the room and headed upstairs towards operations. Alan Williams was talking to Kim at the top of the stairs. They turned as he approached.
‘We’ve got Carlos Vincentia and David Prost,’ Kim said. ‘Unfortunately, they’ve had a good kicking and are on their way to Ysbyty Gwynedd.’
‘That’s great news. What happened?’ Chod asked, laughing.
‘Carlos tricked his way into an old lady’s house and she recognised him and called her son. David Prost arrived to pick Carlos up just as the son arrived with some friends, all tooled up. They’ve given them a bit of pasting but they’ll survive.’ Chod laughed again. ‘We’ve also found a shitload of cocaine welded into their trailer. Pamela Stone just called.’
‘That’s a bonus,’ Chod said.
‘How did it go with Wayne Best?’
‘There’s something not right with him,’ Chod said, shaking his head. ‘He’s squirrelly. He’s lying about something but I can’t put my finger on it. I’m not comfortable with his version of events.’
‘Why?’ Alan asked. ‘What did he say?’
‘He was reluctant to answer some pretty basic questions about who he spoke to at the fairground. I got the impression he was making it up as he went along,’ Chod said. ‘Listen to this. He drove to the Vic, had a pint then drove down the hill onto the Newry and parked his car down the bottom opposite the Boathouse pub.’
‘Overlooking the boatyard,’ Alan said.
‘Yes.’
‘What time does he say he arrived?’
‘Six o’clock,’ Chod said. ‘But I don’t believe him.’
‘Why?’
‘I have no idea,’ Chod said. ‘Trust issues,’ he joked.
‘Excuse me, Chod,’ a voice called from the bottom of the stairs. ‘Which room did you say your interviewee is in?’
‘He’s in three,’ Chod said.
‘There’s no one in there,’ the uniformed officer said, shaking her head. ‘He’s gone.’
Chapter 35
Kelly and her family checked into a bed and breakfast. They dumped their meagre belongings in their rooms and headed out to explore. Sheree and Steve had been there many times in their youth before Kelly and her sister Amy arrived. When they met, they lived with Steve’s parents, Mike and Angela for a while. Mike and Angela had a caravan at the Dwygyfylchi and they went there for a little space on their own at the weekends. Eventually, Sheree got a job at the big orange, B&Q and Steve became a delivery driver. They went to Barmouth on occasion for a change from the caravan. It had been a while but Sheree was keen to show off her knowledge of the resort. She fastened her jacket to the neck and marched up the path.
‘Let’s go this way,’ Sheree said, pointing.
‘Why are we going that way?’ Elle asked.
‘The sea is this way,’ Sheree said, smiling.
‘I know the sea is that way,’ Steve said. ‘There’s a bloody big mountain in the other direction. It can only be one way.’
‘Now then, children,’ Elle said, teasing her grandparents. ‘No arguing or you’re not having an ice cream.’
‘That’s us told,’ Steve said. He began singing, morning has broken to himself.
‘Will you please stop singing that bloody tune,’ Sheree said. ‘I’ll have it in my head all day.’
‘Do you remember that café we used to go to on the front?’ Steve asked.
‘It was the milk bar,’ Sheree said. ‘They used to make the best strawberry milkshakes on the planet.’
‘And the best fry-ups,’ Steve said. ‘I wonder if it’s still there.’
‘The last time we had breakfast in there, we’d just finished making Amy,’ Sheree said.
‘Don’t be disgusting,’ Kelly said, trying not to laugh. ‘That’s an image, I don’t need in my head.’
‘Are they talking about you know what?’ Elle asked.
‘You don’t need to know anything about you know what just yet. Ignore them,’ Kelly said, giggling. It felt good to be there, safe and anonymous. They walked down the road and reached a tee junction, where they waited at the zebra crossing. The traffic was light but persistent. The lights changed and they crossed the road. The sound of the funfair reached them and the smell of candy floss touched the air. A crowd of people crossed with them. They reached the opposite side and Sheree stopped at the doors of an old church. Its dark brown bricks were huge and crusted with exhaust fumes. The place of worship was now a pound-shop. Luminous green and pink signs enticed visitors in with the promise of everything being a pound. It was a mecca for tourists on a budget. They could buy sticks of rock for loved ones at home.
‘Come on,’ Sheree said. ‘I want to go in there. Let’s see what we can buy for a pound.’
‘Oh, for god’s sake. I should have stayed in Holyhead and took my chances with the criminals,’ Steve said, moaning. ‘It would be less painful than being dragged around a pound-shop.’
‘Shut up,’ Sheree said, glaring at him. ‘There are no criminals.’
‘What criminals?’ Elle said.
‘Criminals in the government,’ Steve said. ‘Stealing all my money in tax.’
‘You mean Boris,’ Elle said.
‘Yes. I do,’ Steve said. ‘He’s a tatty-headed-bumbling-bandit.’ Elle chuckled.
‘Well recovered, dad,’ Kelly said nudging him in the ribs. ‘Come on. We need stuff for the rooms anyway. They’ll sell crisps and pop.’
‘How much will they be?’ Steve asked.
‘A pound,’ Elle answered.
They walked inside and followed the other shoppers, who were milling around the vast array of products. Sheree and Kelly carried baskets, which were soon half full of bargains. Steve spotted a young girl, stocking the shelves. He picked up an electric plug.
‘Excuse me, how much is this?’ he asked. Elle frowned.
‘A pound,’ the girl said, without turning around. She continued to stack phone cases.
‘How much for two?’ Steve asked.
‘Grandad,’ Elle said, punching his leg. ‘You’re so embarrassing.’
‘If I had a pound for every time someone thought that was funny, I could buy everything in this shop and still have change.’ The girl finished stacking the box and walked away.
‘Some people have no sense of humour,’ Steve said.
‘She probably has a sense of humour but it’s not the same as yours,’ Sheree said. ‘Yours is unique.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Steve said.
‘Please don’t,’ Sheree said. ‘Take it as constructive criticism.’
‘What does that mean?’ Elle asked.
‘It means your grandad is a numpty,’ Sheree
said. Elle laughed.
Kelly took her hand and guided her through a throng of customers who were sifting through baskets of socks.
‘Now then, there’s a question for you,’ Steve said. ‘Is it a pound for a pair of socks or fifty-pence each?’ Elle thought about it for a second. Steve stopped smiling and stood still. Kelly caught his expression. ‘Don’t turn around,’ Steve said. Kelly froze. ‘Look in that mirror,’ he whispered. The mirror was part of a display on the wall, printed with the logo of an imaginary beer. Kelly looked in it. She saw the looming figure in the doorway of the church. He was scanning the crowd, looking for someone. ‘He has burns on the other side of his face,’ Steve said. ‘Is that him?’ Kelly nodded. She pulled Elle closer to her.
‘Is it who?’ Elle asked, confused.
‘Call nine, nine, nine,’ Sheree said.
Chapter 36
Carlos winced as another stitch was put into his scalp. He was handcuffed to the trolley. His right eye was nearly closed shut. The swelling was painful. He could taste blood in his mouth and his front teeth felt loose. There was a sickly twisted feeling in his guts. He felt like a rat in a trap. His mind was racing looking for a way out but he couldn’t find one. There were police everywhere he looked and they weren’t there for his benefit. He could sense the animosity towards him. The police would question him soon and there was nothing he could say to muddy the waters. He contemplated blaming everything on Claus and David and chucking Benaim into the mix. That might confuse things. If he could spread the blame, he would. A detective opened the curtain.
‘Can we have five minutes with him?’ Kim asked. The doctor frowned and shook his head. ‘He’s the main suspect in the Michelle Branning murder,’ she added.
‘Take as long as you need,’ the doctor said, changing his tune. ‘He’s had a few stitches and has a bump on the head but there’s no reason he can’t be interviewed. Arsehole,’ he added, looking at Carlos.
‘We can’t interview him here,’ Kim said. ‘I just need a word.’
‘Be my guest.’