The Anglesey Murders Box Set

by Conrad Jones

  The boughs creaked and groaned against the breeze as he crept from tree to tree; rainwater dripped onto his skin, making him hunch against the cold. His clothes were damp. Lights came on inside and he stopped and watched as she closed the blinds in the living room. Another light came on at the side of the building and he guessed it was the kitchen. A drainpipe ran out of the wall, probably from a sink. He tiptoed closer, keeping low. The light was fading fast. When he reached the bungalow, he kept close to the wall and peered inside. She was washing dishes. The table was cluttered with the remnants of a family meal. She’d fed them before they set off. He watched her. She was slim and attractive; her brown hair tied up in a ponytail. He blushed as he looked at her. Feelings were beginning to stir inside him. Her jeans hugged her curves in all the right places. His friends at college would call her a MILF. He pushed the thoughts from his mind and ducked beneath the window, heading around the back of the bungalow. There was a garage tucked away from the building, sheltered by the trees. He ran across the lawn to the door and tried the handle. It was open. Mathew stepped inside and immediately felt better. There was a wax jacket hanging on the wall and he took it down and put it on. It felt stiff and smelled musty, but it was dry, and he felt warmer already. His eyes adjusted to the dark and he looked around. There were garden implements on the walls. He studied them, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, stopping when he saw the curved blade of a scythette. Next to it was a billhook. Choosing between them was too difficult. He decided to take both. The blades looked evil in the dusky light. He took them from the wall and felt the balance in his hand. They were perfect for what he was going to do. He stepped through the door onto the lawn and headed towards the bungalow.

  CHAPTER 14

  Joss scurried behind a pile of tyres and caught his breath. He could hear the men opening and closing doors. They were moving towards him. He lay face down and slithered like a snake towards the storeroom. The door was hidden from view by a Range Rover. It was slow progress. When he reached the door, he got to his knees, typing in the code into the lock. The door clicked open and he slipped inside quietly. It wasn’t obvious that there was a storeroom, but they would spot the door, eventually. He ran to the back of the storeroom and climbed onto a metal shelf rack. It rattled as he climbed up, reaching for a hatch in the ceiling. He pushed it open and shinned up into a loft area above, closing the hatch behind him. Using his phone as a torch, he made his way along the length of the building, using the rafters to walk on. Five minutes later, he climbed into a space above the reception. He peered through the grid of an air vent into the warehouse and watched the intruders scurrying around like headless chickens. It took them hours to find the right keys for each vehicle to open the boot. Eventually, they exhausted the search of the vehicles and then spotted the storeroom.

  ‘He must be in there,’ one of them said.

  ‘The door is locked.’

  ‘Kick it in.’

  Two of the men took turns in kicking the door. It rattled in the frame but didn’t budge. After half a dozen attempts, they were exhausted.

  ‘Step back,’ one of them said. He aimed the sawn-off at the lock and fired both barrels. The lock blew off and clattered beneath a Jaguar. A hard kick sent the door flying open. ‘Give yourself up, Joss.’ The men ran into the storeroom and began their search. It was a large space separated by shelving units. Thirty-five minutes later, Joss watched them come out of the storeroom, deflated and angry; they were bickering between themselves. ‘What are we going to do now?’

  ‘We’ll ask him,’ the man who appeared to be in charge said, pointing to Jeff. Jeff was still lying prone on the floor. He hadn’t moved for a while. The men walked through the rows of vehicles and gathered around the unconscious man. One of them kicked his foot. There was no response. Another man shook him with the same result. A third knelt and squeezed his cheeks, slapping his face with the back of his hand. ‘Wake up!’ He felt for a pulse in the neck. There was a deep purple contusion in the centre of his forehead and swelling the size of a tennis ball.

  ‘He’s not coming around.’

  ‘I told you not to hit him too hard!’

  ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘He’s dead. That’s what the problem is.’

  ‘I didn’t know Joss Jones wouldn’t be here. You said he was always here at this time.’

  ‘He is always here.’

  ‘He’s not here now.’

  ‘All right, smart-arse!’

  ‘Smart-arse?’ one snapped angrily. ‘It’s not me that’s a smart-arse. How are we supposed to find the drugs? We don’t know which vehicle they’re in. He might have known where they are but, clumsy bastard there has bashed his brains in.’

  ‘Don’t call me a clumsy bastard.’

  ‘Will you two shut up?’

  ‘This is a proper joke. We need to get out of here before we get lifted for murder. I didn’t sign up to killing anyone.’

  ‘Me neither, Kev.’

  ‘Nor me.’

  ‘Don’t use my name!’

  ‘Why not?’ the man shook his head. ‘There’s no one here and he’s dead. He’s not telling anyone your name is Kev.’

  ‘Idiot. Shut your mouth.’

  ‘Okay, I’m an idiot. You planned this mess, so who is the idiot?’

  ‘Let’s get out of here before I blow your head off your shoulders,’ Kev said. The men filed out, heads down, shoulders slumped. Joss waited half an hour before climbing down into the storeroom, just in case it was a ruse to bring him out of hiding. He was thinking about moving the Land Rovers and stashing them somewhere. A place where only he knew, but it was getting dark. He had to dispose of Idle-Jeff. Poor bugger. He thought about reporting the break-in but couldn’t risk the police sealing the place off while they investigated his murder. Not with the cocaine in the building. He had a lot to organise and he needed to do it fast. Top of the list was finding out who Kev was and where he lived.

  CHAPTER 15

  Alan arrived home just before nine o’clock. It had been a long day. One of those days which made him calculate how it long it was until retirement. The dogs were going bananas as usual; their daily routine of excitedly welcoming him home, had become more frenzied since Dan moved out. One of the boys would pop home during the day to feed them and let them out but they missed human company. Alan let them out and they sprinted across the field; Henry was being left behind nowadays; the gap increasing day by day. He was getting old and Gemma’s longer, younger legs carried her like the wind. Still, it didn’t stop him trying to keep up. Alan filled their bowls with food and water and poured himself a whisky. Headlights illuminated the driveway as Kim arrived. She’d stopped off at the Oriental Palace in Trearddur Bay for some food. Neither of them had the time or inclination to cook.

  Kim walked into the kitchen and plonked the takeaway onto the worktop. The smell of satay and Chinese curry filled the air. Alan poured her a merlot and got two plates from the cupboard.

  ‘Cheers. Here’s to a better day tomorrow,’ Alan said. They clinked glasses.

  ‘I don’t see tomorrow being any better unless Hudson turns himself in.’ Kim sighed.

  Alan’s phone rang. He rolled his eyes skyward and looked at the screen. It was Bob Dewhurst. ‘Evening, Bob.’

  ‘Evening, Alan. Have you got a whisky in your hand?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Lucky bugger. I won’t be far behind you. I’ve got a bottle of Bells with my name on it in the car and Eileen has downloaded a new series on her Kindle. That’ll keep her happy for a while.’ Bob chuckled.

  ‘Don’t put too much water in it. Ruins the flavour.’

  ‘Water in my whisky?’ Bob said. ‘Are you raving mad?’

  ‘Pardon me. Stupid thing to say. Anyway, what can I do for you?’

  ‘We’ve searched Hudson’s locker at the college. He’s got the usual assortment of textbooks and sweaty trainers in there and more interestingly, someone else’s bag and a taser.’
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  ‘A taser?’

  ‘Yes. A good one, too. Fifty-thousand volts.’

  ‘That would slow you down.’

  ‘It would. The bag is the real reason for the call. It’s a haversack with someone else’s belongings in it.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘The bag belongs to a seventeen-year-old called Rory Atkins from Ffordd Beibio, Holyhead.’

  ‘That name rings a bell,’ Alan said. He thought about it for a second. ‘His face has been all over Facebook, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. His sister has been campaigning to find him. He lives alone in a bedsit and hasn’t been seen for days. She’s convinced something has happened to him. Apparently, he calls her regularly. She’s adamant he’s not spending time with a girlfriend. His wallet, bank cards, national insurance card, student union ID, and flat keys are all in his bag.’

  ‘That’s not good.’

  ‘Her picture of him has a top-knot hairstyle and a beard. He fits the description of your Bryn Celli victim, doesn’t he?’

  ‘If my memory serves me correctly, yes but I couldn’t swear to it. We’ll wait to hear from Pamela Stone for confirmation before we approach the family. She should have initial reports in the morning.’

  ‘It doesn’t look good if he’s not been seen and all his belongings are in his bag in Hudson’s locker.’

  ‘It doesn’t. Mathew Hudson likes to keep things. He doesn’t throw anything away; even things which will send him to prison for life.’

  ‘What does that tell you?’

  ‘He doesn’t care if we catch him or not.’

  ‘Maybe he has no intention of being caught.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Maybe he’s planning to go out in a blaze of glory.’

  ‘Suicide? I think he’s too much of a narcissist.’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s clearly not trying to hide his identity.’

  ‘He’ll make a mistake and when he does, we’ll lock him up and throw away the key. In the meantime, if he feels like throwing himself off the bridge, I won’t be stopping him.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Bob.’ Alan emptied the glass and filled it up again. Kim raised her eyebrows in caution. ‘Don’t look at me like that. I need to switch my brain off or I won’t get a wink of sleep. The fact Hudson is out there roaming the island gives me the creeps.’

  ‘You and me both.’

  CHAPTER 16

  Angie Gould was thinking about her children. They were going to Disneyland, Florida the next morning with their grandparents. Her husband’s parents were retired teachers and they doted on their grandkids. Taking them on holiday somewhere as magical as Disney for two weeks would be something none of them would forget. Everyone was very excited about the adventure, except Angie. Angie hadn’t spent more than a few nights away from her children since they were born. The thought of being without them for two weeks was crippling her. Behind her smile, she was very anxious indeed. She had a feeling something bad was going to happen and she’d always been perceptive. Her husband, Phil, had told her not to be ridiculous, which hadn’t helped her mood at all. If he couldn’t understand that she was going to have separation issues while her children were abroad, who could? They were his kids too, for God’s sake. Their bungalow on the island was the perfect place to hunker down for two weeks, while they were away. Phil had to work but Angie had some holidays to take. His parents had offered to take her to Florida as well, but the offer had been made between gritted teeth; she knew that. As much as they were lovely people, they had antiquated ideals of how their son’s wife should behave and how they brought up their children. It had been the crux of many a heated discussion between them. Discussions that they could never win because Angie wouldn’t be bullied by them or Phil or anyone else. Two weeks with them on holiday, discussing what the children should eat and wear would be a nightmare and the children would sense the atmosphere. So, she quickly decided not to accept their kind offer, saying it would be nice for them to spend time with the children alone. The children were excited and that was all that mattered. As long as they enjoyed themselves, she would let go of the apron strings for two weeks.

  She still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. It was a feeling of foreboding which she’d felt before but never on such a level. It had never been so intense, and she couldn’t explain it apart from putting it down to her anxiety about her children. Angie tried to shake the feeling and had a word with herself. She heard the back door opening and turned to see a young male step into her kitchen. He held up a garden tool with a curved blade and waved it as if to say hello. She was confused and frozen with fear. His eyes were dark and piercing and she felt him undressing her in his mind. The man smiled and stepped towards her.

  CHAPTER 17

  It took Joss four phone calls and three hours to round up two of his crew to help him to move the Corvettes and some of the other vehicles. He had another unit further down the road, near Penrhos Beach. There was a rat in the outfit. If he moved the Defenders, people would realise the shipment was inside them. This way, they wouldn’t know which vehicles it was in and the Defenders would blend into the background. The business was Anglesey Land Rover after all, and Defenders were their core product. No one but him would be able to distinguish them from the other vehicles in the unit. He needed to find the rat and he needed to find out who had hit the unit. As far as he was concerned, only Idle-Jeff knew which vehicles the shipment was in and whereabouts in the vehicles the drugs were stashed. He had to assume Jeff had told someone else some, but not all the details. With the vehicles moved, he sent the men back to the unit to keep an eye on things. They had no clue there was massive cocaine shipment there. Joss wiped the CCTV footage and reset it. There was now no evidence of what had happened there. He decided to keep his cards close to his chest while he focused on Idle-Jeff. He’d put the body into the boot of a Mercedes before his men arrived. The less they knew, the better. Loose lips sink ships. His father always said that. He didn’t really understand how relevant it would be when he grew up. The dead body in the boot was confirmation that he could trust no one.

  Joss drove down Richmond Hill and over the bridge into town, before turning left up the steep hill on Thomas Street. He was heading for the quarry without driving down the Newry. There were always police cars there, passing the time with takeaway and cigarettes. It was a ten-minute drive, but it felt like ten hours. Sweat was running down his back, soaking his T-shirt. He drove along the quarry road to his boatyard; he was going to wrap the body in netting. The strong stuff that wouldn’t rot for thousands of years. He closed the gates and opened the boot. Jeff looked up at the stars with blank staring eyes. Joss took his time and packed the netting around the body, sewing it shut with twine. He stuffed the netting with lead weights and shoved some more into the back seat before driving to the quarry pools. The waters there were still and deep and the body would never resurface if he weighted it properly. When he arrived, it was deserted. Joss moved quickly and picked the body out of the boot, dragging it to the edge. He grabbed the spare weights from the backseat and stuffed them inside the netting, closing up the last section with twine. There was a dull splash as he rolled Jeff into the dark water. He sunk into the blackness quickly and left nothing but bubbles to say he’d ever lived at all. His phone beeped, telling him he had a text message. He opened it.

  ‘Hello it’s Suzanne, Jeff’s missus. Can you tell me what time he will be finished please, m8’

  Joss thought about replying but chose not to. It would look better if he didn’t read the text until the following morning. Jeff had been on and off with Suzanne for years; more off than on. The last time he mentioned her, they were off. He would message her and tell her Jeff never arrived at the unit and she could make of it whatever she wanted to. Jeff had done a bunk several times without saying a word to anyone. He would turn up months later contrite and broke. This time he wouldn
’t be coming back.

  CHAPTER 18

  Phil Gould was beginning to panic. He couldn’t get hold of Angie. She wasn’t answering her phone; it was ringing out but kept jumping to voicemail. They didn’t have the landline connected to a phone and only used it for broadband. Telecoms on the island were erratic at best. Angie likened it to being on the moon. The only neighbours they knew used their house as a holiday home and weren’t on the island. He was driving to work after dropping his parents and his kids at the airport and he wanted to tell Angie they’d got off without any tears, to put her mind at rest. Angie was upset about not seeing the kids for two weeks, but he couldn’t see her refusing to answer the phone to him as a punishment, nor would she be sitting behind the settee sucking her thumb and rocking like a child. It wasn’t in her nature to break down, no matter what the situation. She may have gone to the shop and forgotten her mobile or she may have tripped and banged her head. His mind was in turmoil. He felt guilty that he’d left her there alone, but it was what she wanted. Another call was coming through and he could see it was his secretary, Carla. He decided to answer it and call Angie back later. She’d probably gone to Bangor shopping at Debenhams to cheer herself up. She was a grown woman staying on a quiet and peaceful island; she would be fine.

  ‘Morning,’ Carla said. ‘Did it go okay?’

  ‘Yes. All good, thanks.’

  ‘Are you okay to talk?’

  ‘Yes. I’m alone.’

  ‘Did Angie stay on the island?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are we still on for tonight?’

  ‘Yes. It’s been too long since we had all night.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘You sound worried about something.’

  ‘Angie isn’t answering her phone. She’s been upset about the kids going away.’