by Conrad Jones
‘What are you looking at?’ she asked, head cocked to the side. She wasn’t flirting. He’d never seen her flirting with anyone. She was friendly enough but if anyone took her the wrong way, she put them straight very quickly.
‘I’m wondering if you’ve had your lips done again,’ Jamie said.
‘My lips have never been done and they never will be done, cheeky bollocks,’ she said. She was disparaging about the young girls in the pub, walking around with a permanent pout. Fish-faced-empty-heads, she called them. ‘I can barely afford lipstick on what you pay me, never mind fillers. They’re not exactly the best tippers in here, either. I’m stuck with what I’ve got. What you see is what you get. I’ll never be able to lift or tuck anything working here.’
‘No. That’s true but it’s warm and dry, I let you have crisps at cost, and the conversation is electrifying,’ Jamie said, straight faced. ‘There’s nowhere else in town where you could be as intellectually stimulated as you are here. There’re pros and cons to every job. You don’t know how lucky you are.’
‘If it’s stimulation you need, I’m your man,’ a local known as Paddy said. He was a greasy looking scruff with long hair and a beer belly that hung over his dirty jeans. He stroked a stringy ginger beard with nicotine-stained fingers.
‘Not while I’ve got breath in my body, Paddy,’ she said. Holly looked at him and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. ‘Your wife will be in when she finishes work. I’ll mention your offer to her and see what she thinks, shall I?’ Paddy flushed red and turned away. ‘What’s the matter, have you changed your mind?’
Paddy emptied his glass and walked towards the door. Jamie laughed and shook his head.
‘I think he’s changed his mind,’ Jamie said. He watched Paddy open the door and step out onto the pavement. Tony walked in with a concerned look on his face. ‘See what I mean? Where, else would you get offers like that?’
‘I’m glowing with pride,’ Holly said, clasping her chest. ‘Thank you for giving me the opportunity, boss.’
‘Don’t overdo it, Holly.’ Jamie joked. ‘Can you do me another pint and pull one for Tony too, please. I’ll be over there.’ He sat in the corner in their usual seats. Holly poured the drinks and carried them over. Tony sat down and waited for her to be out of earshot. ‘Why the long face?’ Jamie asked.
‘There’s a team of Dibbles stationed in the old nick. Mags, from the Empire Café, told me they ordered breakfast for over forty of them. The word is they’re arresting anyone selling and taking them to the cells to be questioned.’
‘Questioning them about what?’
‘Who sold drugs to the coppers they pulled out of the bay and who works for who. They’re trying to work out the hierarchy on the island.’
‘No. I don’t think so,’ Jamie said.
‘What?’
‘They already know that, Tony. Never underestimate the Dibbles. They’re not as daft as they look. I’m not sure what they’re looking for but we’ll find out soon enough.’
‘This is really bad, mate. They’re all over town. Maybe you should lie low for a while. It’s only a matter of time before they come in your direction.’
‘They already know who is involved, Tony,’ Jamie said. ‘Knowing is very different to being able to prove anything. They’re trying to get people to give evidence. That’s a different kettle of fish.’
‘What do we do?’
‘Point them in the right direction.’
CHAPTER 50
The sun was fading when he got home. He could hear the carers upstairs banging about like a pair of clumsy elephants. They chatted to his mother without expecting an answer. He reckoned they asked the same questions of everyone they cared for, while they changed sheets, emptied bedpans, redressed bedsores, and bathed them. It was a well-rehearsed act played out many times each day. They were like blue-clothed whirlwinds, in and out in a flash, yet without them, he would be scuppered. He heard his mother’s voice, rasping. She was asking for water. It was a heartrending moment. A moment of realisation that his mother was no longer capable of looking after her basic needs. His heart flipped for a moment and he felt a deep sadness. There were moments of intense emotion in his heart, especially when he thought about her struggling to take a drink herself but they were like the flash of a camera bulb. They only lasted a fraction of a second and then they were gone and the numbness returned. It was like a shroud of ice around his soul which melted for a millisecond, then refroze again. He knew that wasn’t normal, whatever normal was. One thing was certain, he would kill her one day and then all her problems would be gone. He wanted to wait for his father to die in prison first, so that he could be there on the other side to greet her when she passed over. Imagine her horror when she saw him again after all those years. He was approaching eighty. The bastard couldn’t have long to go, surely not. When his father died, it would be all over the news. Serial killer, Peter Moore was pronounced dead today, blah blah blah. When it happened, he would wait a little while and then send her to him. He would tell her what he was doing and why and he would leave her alone for a while to prepare herself for the transition. That would be fun. He was looking forward to it.
‘Hello there,’ a voice made him jump. He was away with his thoughts. The carers were standing in the hallway. Their rotund physiques were squashed inside pale blue uniforms, which bulged at the seams. He wondered how the stitching held beneath the strain. ‘I didn’t hear you come in. Have you just finished work?’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you been keeping everyone inline?’
‘As usual.’
‘We’ve finished with your mum for today, we’ll be back first thing in the morning. Will you keep an eye on her water jug?’
‘Yes. Of course.’ He knew she was struggling to pour a drink but she would drink everything he gave her if she had the chance and then she would be peeing all night long. ‘Is she saying she’s been thirsty?’
‘No. She seems happy in herself but her jug was empty when we got here and she guzzled two glasses of water while we were changing her so she must have been thirsty. We’ve changed her, and she’s had a wee so she’ll be fine.’
‘Okay. Thank you very much. See you tomorrow.’
‘Are you here tomorrow morning?’
‘No. I’m on an early shift. These murders have meant we’re being pulled in for overtime. I won’t be back until late tomorrow night.’
‘Okay. Well, if you think of anything we need to know, put it in the book.’
‘Will do,’ he said. She tried a smile but he didn’t return it. He wondered what she would look like if he stuck the knife into her guts and twisted the blade. His imagination changed her facial expression into a mask of agony. He could feel her blood; it was warm on his hand. She opened her mouth in a silent scream and he leaned forward and bit off her tongue. It wriggled in his mouth.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked, frowning. She took a step back.
‘Sorry. I was daydreaming,’ he said. ‘I’m tired. It’s been a very long day.’
‘We’d better be off then,’ she said. She scurried for the front door, eager to be away from him, her sidekick on her shoulder. He wasn’t sure what she’d felt when she stared into his eyes but he knew she’d felt something. His energy was growing, becoming something else. It was beginning to seep from his body and lesser mortals could sense the evil. The front door closed behind her and her colleague and the house was quiet once more.
‘Yes. You’re right. You’d better be off,’ he said to the empty room. ‘It’s not safe here.’
CHAPTER 51
Kim Davies walked into the Stanley Arms and approached the bar. There were two men sitting on stools drinking pints of dark beer. They stopped their conversation to look at her backside. Her jeans hugged her hips where they should. She pretended not to be offended by their attention. It wasn’t the first time she’d used her sex appeal to break the ice with potential witnesses. The barmaid walked in from the kitchen. S
he was ginger and attractive. Freckles dotted her cheeks and nose. Kim ordered a pint of Guinness and took it to a seat near the window. The men watched her in silence. They turned back to the bar when she sat down facing them. She could see the barmaid shrugging and shaking her head. The men had obviously made enquiries about her but they didn’t know each other. She took out her phone and scrolled through her emails, pretending to be distracted. A door opened at the rear of the pub and a wiry man in camouflage trousers and flip-flops, stepped out of the toilets. His hair was woven into grey dreadlocks. He eyed her suspiciously but her smile melted his concern. He made his way over and sat down next to her.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I haven’t seen you in here before. I’m Lee. They call me Lee Punk.’
‘Lee Punk?’
‘Yes. It’s my nickname.’
‘Is that because you have dreadlocks?’ Kim asked.
‘Sort of.’
‘Shouldn’t it be Lee Rasta?’
‘I had the nickname before the hairstyle,’ he said laughing. ‘I was a punk as a teenager. The name stuck with me.’
‘I’ve noticed that around here,’ Kim said.
‘Where are you from?’ Lee asked. He took out a tobacco tin and took off the lid while they chatted. It was full of skunk. The scent was powerful. He took a cigarette paper and began rolling a joint.
‘I’ve been based in Caernarfon,’ Kim said. ‘But I’m working here for a few months.’
‘Really?’ Lee asked. ‘What do you do?’
‘I’m a detective sergeant with the North Wales MIT.’ She took out her warrant card. Lee Punk looked like he was going to cry. He put the tin back in his pocket quickly.
‘It’s for my own personal use,’ he mumbled.
‘I’ll decide that.’ She showed him a picture of Mike Jarvis and Patrick McGowan. ‘Do you recognise these two men?’ His eyes betrayed him. He recognised them but he shook his head. ‘Before you say no, I know you know them because they were undercover drug officers and you sold cannabis to them on six different occasions. They are recorded in evidence for a major investigation. It was high quality skunk, just like what’s in your tin.’
‘I don’t remember them.’
‘I don’t care if you remember selling drugs to them or not because we have proof you did. Six times. What you remember is irrelevant. If you help us, this goes away.’
‘Am I under arrest?’ Lee asked.
‘That depends.’
‘On what?’
‘Your next answer,’ Kim said.
Lee put his head in his hands. ‘I’m not a grass.’
‘Calm down. The barmaid and the men at the bar are watching us, so I suggest we go out the back into the smoking area to talk.’
‘I’ve got nothing to say to the police. This is a small town. Everyone knows everyone.’
‘I can take you out of the front door in handcuffs if you like and then everyone will know you’ve been arrested and spoken to. Make your mind up, Lee.’
‘Okay,’ he said.
‘After you,’ Kim said, gesturing to the door. They walked out of the beer garden door and up a set of stone steps which led to a patio area and a car park. She could see the police station to her right and the Caernarfon Castle in front of her. Crime scene tape sealed the doorway. Alan Williams was sitting at a table, waiting for them. ‘This is Detective Inspector Alan Williams. He’s the senior investigating officer on this case.’
‘What case?’ Lee asked. He fiddled with a dreadlock, nervously. ‘What is all this about?’
‘Sit down,’ Alan said, ignoring his question. ‘My sergeant has informed you we have documented evidence of you selling cannabis to undercover officers on six occasions?’
‘Yes. She has. You’re a bunch of sneaky bastards.’
‘I’ll ignore that for now. We need to know where and more importantly, who your drugs come from.’
‘Are you high?’ Lee snorted. ‘I can’t tell you that. You’ll have me strung up from a tree. No one in this town is going to rat on their suppliers. Not a chance.’
‘Someone kidnapped those officers, interrogated them, and threw them into the sea to drown. They were murdered,’ Alan said. Lee shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. ‘We don’t think they were killed by someone at your level. Killing police officers is another mindset completely from someone like yourself. I bet you just sell to regulars in a couple of pubs, make a bit of money and smoke for free, right?’ Lee shrugged. ‘I bet you’re on benefits too. It beats getting out of bed every morning and working for a living, doesn’t it?’
‘I’ve got chronic fatigue actually,’ Lee said. His face blushed red. ‘I can’t work full time and there’s no part time work around here.’
‘I don’t care,’ Alan said. ‘Your quiet life could be turned on its head by tomorrow morning, or you could give me a name, anonymously of course, and carry on as if we never met.’
‘I’m not a grass,’ Lee said, shaking his head.
‘These officers had wives and children,’ Alan said. ‘No one deserves to die like that. All we need is a name. No one will know where it came from.’
‘I’m saying nothing.’
‘Okay. Your choice.’ Alan waved to two uniformed officers, who were waiting in an unmarked car. They approached the table. Lee watched them with interest.
‘Arrest him and lock him up next door,’ Alan said. He stood up and walked away. Kim followed him. ‘We’ll keep him overnight and talk to him in the morning. He might have a different outlook on it tomorrow.’
‘Where are you going? Wait a minute!’ Lee protested. He struggled against the uniformed officers as they cuffed him. ‘I’ve got a wife and kids at home. She’ll go off her rocker if I don’t go home. What do you want to know?’
‘Like I said, we’ll talk to you in the morning.’ Alan walked down the steps into the pub. Lee bombarded him with a tirade of abuse, mostly questioning if his parents were married. He ignored the abuse and turned to Kim. ‘They need to know we’re not messing around. We ask them once and if they lie or refuse, they go into a cell until the next day. Sooner or later, one of them will talk.’ His mobile rang and he checked the screen. ‘Hello, Bob,’ he answered.
‘How’s it going?’ Bob Dewhurst asked.
‘We’ve made progress on the Adam’s murder. Did you find anything for us from your schedules?’
‘No. I’m sorry. We had no patrols at Penrhos anytime that day. I’ve double checked the overtime rotas too. Whoever your witness saw, isn’t one of our officers.’
‘Thanks, Bob. That’s a relief. It was worth a look,’ Alan said. He was secretly disappointed. The uniformed man was a good lead. ‘I’ll call you if anything else comes in.’
‘Hold on,’ Bob said. ‘Don’t rush off. I’ve got the details of your red van from the laundry unit in Cemaes bay.’
‘Great,’ Alan said. ‘That’s good news.’
‘The van is registered to Will Pinter, Sundown Property Management, Trearddur Bay. It’s on a company insurance policy.’
‘Someone is taking the piss,’ Alan said.
‘That’s what I thought.’
‘Leave it with me,’ Alan said. ‘We need to get that company unravelled to see who’s behind it. Someone is going to a lot of trouble to stay anonymous. I’ll call back later.’
‘Thanks, Alan,’ Bob said, hanging up.
‘What did he say?’ Kim asked.
‘He said he’s checked the rotas and there were no uniformed officers at the nature reserve that day,’ Alan said. ‘The witness was very credible. She seemed certain the man was in some kind of uniform. What other types of uniforms are seen on the island?’
‘Community support officers,’ Kim said. ‘But they’ll be on Bob’s schedule.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Traffic wardens, maybe?’
‘Maybe. What about those arseholes from Kingdom Security?’
‘The litter police?’ Kim said. ‘They do wear black uniforms and I wouldn’t trust any of t
hem. They’re bullies and thugs.’
‘Get onto them. They give out fixed penalty notices to people who drop litter, people who drop cigarette butts, dog walkers who don’t pick up their crap; they give them out for fun. See if they had any employees on Holy Island that day or if any notices were issued on this side of the island.’
‘Okay.’
‘While you’re on to them, see if they have any employees living here.’
‘They’ve been hostile to anything we’ve asked for before,’ Kim said. ‘But I’ll try.’
‘If they give you any nonsense, call Dafyd straightaway and get a warrant for their records. The sighting of a uniformed man is key. It’s all we have to go on. I’ve got a feeling our witness has seen someone who was on their way to work or on their way home. Either way, we’ll find him.’
CHAPTER 52
Simon checked all the warrants were correct. Glen Price was to be arrested by Flintshire and taken to St Asaph, where he would be held until MIT were ready to interrogate him. Ideally, they would have interviewed Barry Trent and Derek Kio first. They could then challenge Price with the information gleaned from the others. It was all straightforward enough in theory, but it wasn’t going to plan. Simon was on the telephone, desperate for information.
‘I’m waiting for confirmation of Glen Price’s shifts this week.’
‘Hold the line,’ the voice said. The line went quiet. Simon waited impatiently for two long minutes. It clicked into life again. ‘Can I ask who’s calling?’
‘I’ve already explained this to two of your colleagues. I’m Detective Sergeant Brady, North Wales Police. We need to know when Barry Trent will be working next, please.’
‘I see. Please hold the line.’ The line clicked and Adele began singing one of her mournful ballads. He knew the words and had all her albums but he didn’t want to listen to her right now. She was nearing the end of the song when the line clicked on again. ‘I’m afraid he’s off sick at the moment.’