The Anglesey Murders Box Set

by Conrad Jones

  ‘Don’t do this, Mathew,’ April pleaded.

  ‘Running just as fast as we can, holding onto one another’s hands. Trying to get away into the night and then you put your arms around me, and we tumble to the ground and then you say, I think we’re alone now.’

  ‘Please stop this, Mathew, I’m begging you.’

  ‘Oh yes, beg for your life,’ he said. ‘I like that.’

  ‘Stop now while you can,’ she said.

  ‘It’s too late. You can scream and shout all you like now. The louder the better. I want to know how much it hurts.’

  He put the knife on the pillow and pulled his jumper over his head. It came away easily, revealing his boyish torso. He had no shape and was pale and skinny looking. His jeans slid down and he stepped out of them. April shifted her weight, so that she was leaning on one elbow. Her mouth was dry, and her jaw hurt but she knew this was crunch time. It was now or never.

  ‘Gosh, you’re so skinny, aren’t you,’ she said, with a dry laugh. ‘There’s nothing of you at all.’

  ‘What?’ Mathew said, annoyed.

  ‘I said you’re so skinny. I bet your girlfriends have been very disappointed.’ She shook her head. ‘Very disappointed indeed. I know I would be. That would be such a let-down.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Mathew snapped. He folded his arms to hide his nipples. ‘Shut your potty mouth before I get angry.’

  ‘If I was your girlfriend, I would have got dressed and gone home as soon as you took your top off. And that’s before you dropped your pants.’ She laughed and looked at his boxer shorts. ‘You’re a joke. I could never have gone with someone so skinny. I want a man not a boy.’

  ‘What did you say to me?’ he said, almost in a whisper. ‘How dare you?’

  ‘I said you’re a skinny wimp and no girl would be interested in that. Not if she had a choice. I can see why you have to force people.’ She pointed to his body. ‘You’ve got the body of a young girl.’

  ‘Be quiet.’ Mathew looked angry. His eyes darkened.

  ‘Have you even got any hairs around it, yet?’ She laughed. His face darkened again. She could feel the rage boiling. He had no reply. Her insults had taken away his feelings of superiority. ‘I bet those women didn’t even feel it going in, did they?’ she chuckled.

  ‘You need to shut up and shut up right now!’

  ‘Is it in yet, Mathew?’ April said in a high-pitched voice. ‘If it is, I can’t tell.’ His face twisted in anger. ‘You might be the big man with that knife in your hand but that’s the only thing I would be worried about you sticking in me.’

  ‘There you go again, potty mouth. Being crude doesn’t suit you. You’re going to be so sorry.’

  ‘I’m just being honest. I bet you’re the type who doesn’t get changed in front of the other guys at school, aren’t you because you’re a wimp with a small dick? Did they laugh at you at school?’

  ‘Nobody ever laughed at me. Shut your mouth.’

  ‘I bet they did laugh at you and I bet the lads told the girls you had a small dick, didn’t they?’

  ‘Shut up, potty mouth.’

  ‘Is that what’s wrong with you?’ April asked. He didn’t answer. ‘Is that why you’re such a fucked-up individual?’

  Mathew growled like a scorched cat and launched himself at her. April braced herself against the onslaught.

  ***

  Alan shone the penlight on the perforated metal which covered the kitchen door. He inspected the screws that fixed the security grill to the frame. The crosses were scratched and shiny at the centre. He pointed to them. They’d been screwed very recently. He made a circular motion with his fingers. One of the officers took an electric screwdriver from his kit and unscrewed the grill in less than thirty-seconds. They placed it on the floor silently. The door was splintered and cracked; the lock broken. He pushed the door open and stood back to let the armed officers inside. It creaked and they stopped in their tracks. There were footprints in the dust on the kitchen floor. They all saw that there were two sets, one bigger than the other. The floorboards creaked as they crept through the kitchen, making progress slow. They reached the hallway and the base of the stairs and stopped. Alan shone the penlight on the stairs. There were handprints in the dust on the bannister. He waited while the armed officers made a quick circuit of the ground floor before gathering at the stairs. He gestured that they move upstairs.

  Suddenly, they heard the sound of someone in pain. It was guttural sound; It was animal like and it was male. Then the sound of a female screaming spurred them into action. They ran for the stairs, weapons raised.

  ***

  Mathew jumped at her. He was so incensed he left the knife on the pillow. His fists flailed at the air, but he struck nothing. April was gone. She moved back against the wall and waited for him to overextend himself across the mattress. When he did, she struck at him with the toothbrush, using the handle as the point. She missed, hitting his shoulder. It bent her wrist back and she cried in pain. Mathew punched her in the ear and set fireworks off in her brain. She stabbed blindly and this time it struck him beneath the right eye, cutting him. A flap of skin opened, and blood ran from it. He cried out and grabbed at her, but he missed. She pushed herself into the corner, trying to escape him. He punched her in the side of the head, and she felt white hot pain shoot through her mind. She couldn’t let herself be overcome. Her breathing was coming in short sharp bursts. Another punch landed on the bridge of her nose, cracking the tiny bone. Blinding light flashed for a second. The pain was incredible and debilitating. She felt blood pouring from it. Her strength was waning; she wanted to give up but giving up meant dying; dying in agony; her children growing up as the kids whose mum was murdered by that psycho from Llanfair. She couldn’t allow that. Her survival instincts kicked in and she lashed out and smashed his nose with the back of her hand. He shouted in pain and launched himself at her again, fists pounding at her face. Her lips were split, and her front teeth cracked; blood filled her mouth, choking her. She was being overwhelmed. There was no fuel left in the tank and she knew it was nearly over. She was spent. A punch hit her on the chin snapping her lower jaw upwards into her upper jaw. More teeth cracked and she felt her mind shutting down. It was over.

  With one final effort, April stabbed at him and it hit him in the eye. The point hit home, bursting the left orb with an audible pop. Blood and jelly ran down his cheek. It looked black in the gloom. Mathew screamed and tried to snatch the toothbrush from her grip. It flew across the room and clattered underneath the wardrobe, bouncing off the skirting board. He jumped away from her, off the bed and roared like a man possessed, clutching at his ruined eye. They both saw the knife on the pillow simultaneously. April jumped across the space between her and the knife at the same time as Mathew. His screams had become more aggressive as each second passed. She felt the handle in her hand and pulled the knife to her. Mathew grabbed the blade and tried to snatch it from her. The blade sliced through his fingers, severing muscle and tendon with ease. He cried out again, his voice had a demonic tone now; it no longer sounded like him. April heard words coming from his lips, but she’d never heard them before. It was a different language. She slashed at him with the knife and he recoiled but the blade sliced through his cheek. Blood sprayed up the wall and splattered her face. She blinked it from her eyes and licked it from her lips.

  The sound of footsteps on the stairs made them both pause for a second.

  ‘Armed police!’ the voices shouted.

  Mathew reacted first and reached for the knife with his other hand and twisted the handle, so it faced towards her. He shoved it hard into April; the blade sunk deep into her abdomen.

  ‘Does that feel nice,’ he asked, pushing it deeper. ‘I bet you can feel that, can’t you, potty mouth?’

  ‘Armed police!’ She heard again and again.

  ‘I’ll see you in hell.’ Mathew broke free of the struggle and ran towards the window. He jumped at the glass at full pelt
. She heard the glass shattering and she heard him shout out in pain and anger as he launched himself into the night. Three men burst through the door, voices booming, weapons raised and searching for Mathew Hudson. She felt her blood running down her stomach and legs and she looked down at the knife protruding from her guts, just above her navel. She knew she was hurt badly. The men rushed to her and laid her down on her back. She could hear them talking to her, but she was slipping away. Their voices were fading. There was no panic or fear as the darkness became pitch-black and unconsciousness took her.

  CHAPTER 38

  The paramedics did what they could before putting April into an ambulance and rushing her to hospital; the mood of the police officers was sombre. A dark cloud had descended on the operation. They’d rescued April, but she’d been badly wounded by Hudson. Seeing one of their own in critical condition hit hard. Alan watched as the vehicle pulled away, siren blaring, blue lights flashing. It was a sight he’d seen a hundred times, but it had never felt so devastating before. April was more than a fellow officer; she was a friend of the family.

  ‘What did they say?’ he asked Kim. He knew what the answer would be before she spoke. Paramedics did an amazing job. Keeping April alive long enough to reach surgery would take all their experience and skill and more.

  ‘She’s bleeding internally,’ she said. The knife missed the heart and lungs, thank god. ‘She needs surgery quickly or she’ll bleed out.’

  ‘Did she say anything?’

  ‘Yes. She said thank you.’

  ‘Has her husband been told where she’s going?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve sent a car for him. He’s on his way.’

  ‘Her kids?’

  ‘With the grandparents, Ieuan and Sharon,’ Kim said. ‘You know them, right?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve known them forever,’ Alan said. ‘I went on holiday to Tenerife with them a few years back. Ieuan drinks in my local.’

  ‘I hope she’s okay.’

  ‘She’s in the best hands.’

  ‘Excuse me, sir. We’ve found a blood trail in the cellar,’ an officer said, approaching.

  ‘Good,’ Alan said. ‘He can’t disappear into space.’ They followed him to a spot beneath the bedroom window. There was glass all around; some of the shards had blood on them. An indent in the mud showed exactly how he’d survived the fall without smashing his legs to bits. The ground was soft, and the soil was deep. It had been like landing on a mattress.

  ‘He landed here. There’s blood and glass on the ground. There’s a lot of blood here,’ the officer said. ‘But there’s no trace anywhere else until we looked in the cellar. He must have stemmed the flow of blood for a while somehow until he was clear of the immediate area.’

  ‘Okay. Let’s have a look in the cellar.’

  ‘Follow me.’

  They followed him into the cellar. The ceiling was low with wooden beams stretching from one side to the other. Dried herbs and shrivelled bulbs hung from hooks in the beams and there were sacks of dog biscuits stacked against one wall. The packaging was faded and unreadable. Everything was coated with the gossamer sheen of spiders’ webs. The air was dry and smelled of malt. It didn’t take much of an imagination to see how it would have been when it was part of a busy working farm.

  There was blood on the bottom step.

  ‘The blood trail goes all the way across the concrete to this cellar window here. This table has been dragged across the floor and he probably climbed on it to reach the latch. There’re blood smears all over the frame. He must have climbed out.’

  ‘Why didn’t anyone see him?’ Alan said. ‘We had men surrounding the area.’

  ‘The window is hidden from view by undergrowth. He wouldn’t have been seen from the outside.’

  ‘And you’re sure there’s absolutely nowhere to hide in here?’ Alan asked.

  ‘Absolutely. Take a look yourself.’

  They looked around the cellar. The walls were solid brick, the floor concrete. Wooden wine racks lined the bottom half of one wall. He noticed some classic reds.

  ‘I think we should seize these as evidence,’ Alan said.

  ‘Really?’ the CSI asked.

  ‘No. Not really. That was a joke.’ He pulled at the wine racks and they rattled but didn’t move. There was no hiding place down there. ‘Let’s look outside,’ Alan said. ‘He must have slipped through the cordon around the building and I need to know how.’

  ‘There’s a lot of foliage at that side of the house and it’s overgrown all the way to the barn.’

  They made their way outside and walked around the house. One side was completely overgrown. They could barely see the cellar window. Alan looked towards the barn.

  ‘Where were our men?’ he asked.

  ‘About a hundred metres back parallel with the barn. It looks like he made his way through the undergrowth to the barn and then slipped away on the other side towards the forest.’

  ‘I don’t see how he got past the cordon,’ Alan muttered. He wasn’t happy with the explanation.

  ‘Whatever happened, he slipped through.’

  ‘Yes. I’m aware of that,’ Alan said. ‘Okay. Send all units and the force helicopter to seal off the area between here and Llandwyn Beach.’

  ‘The amount of blood on the ground tells me he’s badly hurt; he won’t get far, sir.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be too sure. We had him pinned down here and he got away,’ Alan said. ‘He’s a slippery bastard.’ He sighed. ‘Have every property alerted that there’s a dangerous fugitive on the loose. Knock on doors and speak to the residents, face to face. Every single one of them is in danger until we lock him up.’

  ‘Sir.’

  The officer went towards the control vehicle and conveyed the orders. Alan walked the line between the farmhouse and the barn. There were evidence markers placed on blood spots along the way. He stopped and stared into the trees beyond the farm.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Kim asked.

  ‘I’m thinking that Mathew Hudson has the ability to become invisible. A ninja couldn’t crawl that distance without being seen.’

  ‘A ninja?’ Kim asked, frowning. ‘Are they even real?’

  ‘Of course, they are,’ Alan said. He pushed his hands deep into his pockets, the anxiety deepening. ‘We need to catch this bastard before he encounters someone else.’

  CHAPTER 39

  Joss placed the last brick of cocaine onto the pile. He stood back and put his hands on his hips. It wasn’t a sight you could see every day. He’d lived on the island all his life and seen things some people would never see. The powerful storms in the winter that turned the sea into a writhing mass of white foam, waves as big as houses. The full moon over Snowdonia with its snow-topped peaks and dark grey crags and stunning sunsets all year round but this was a first. One million pounds in white powder. He sat down with the others and the three of them sat drinking coffee in silence, staring at it. It was a surreal moment and even Anwen had chilled a little.

  ‘How many packages are there?’ she asked.

  ‘One hundred and seventeen kilos,’ Joss said. He glanced at the others. They were staring at the pile, mesmerised. ‘That’s what one million pounds looks like but unfortunately, we can’t spend that. I need to sell it to convert it into cold hard cash.’ He finished his coffee in one gulp. ‘All I have to do is get it through the army of detectives who are camped outside, deliver it to the most dangerous Russians I’ve ever met, and I might get paid and keep both legs.’

  ‘What are you going to do with it now?’ Anwen asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘How are you going to get it out of here?’

  ‘I’m debating that. I have to anticipate being stopped and searched so it will have to be hidden. There’re are too many bricks to put them in a false fuel tank underneath or to put in the boot of a car.’ He shrugged. ‘The tow truck is a big machine and there’s the trailer and the Defender Naz drove here. We could spread it between them, c
ouldn’t we?’ he asked, Naz.

  ‘You can’t deliver it to the Russians in three vehicles, it would mean we’ll have to pack it and unpack it again to deliver it. We can’t go back to the unit so where can we do that?’

  ‘Nowhere,’ Joss said, shaking his head.

  ‘I’ve got an idea.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘The tow truck has a cavity on both sides above the rear wheels.’

  ‘The storage spaces where we keep all the spare towing gear?’ Joss asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Naz said.

  ‘Of course,’ Joss said. ‘If we empty them out, there’s plenty of room.’

  ‘It would fit in there. One hundred and seventeen kilos is about eighteen stone, right?’

  ‘There or thereabouts,’ Joss said. ‘Even with the trailer on the back, it won’t make the wheels look overloaded. It will still look normal.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly,’ Naz said. ‘We can pack the gear inside, and I can weld the doors shut so that no one could tell from the outside.’ He winked at Joss. ‘I can weld it so there’s no sign of a door. You know I can.’

  ‘Why do I feel like there’s a but coming?’

  ‘Because I want to cement the terms of our deal.’

  ‘Our deal?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Which is what?’

  ‘I continue to help you get this shipment delivered and you give me a decent cut. Stick your double time. I want a cut.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Okay. Bring the truck inside and we’ll get started. I need to get out of here. All these coppers are making me nervous.’

  ***

  April was somewhere between unconscious and a drug-induced coma. Yet she was aware of what was going on; not fully aware but partially aware. It was like being in the twilight zone; she knew what was happening around her but couldn’t interact. The seriousness of her situation was clear to her; she was under no illusions as to how fragile her position was. Her life teetered on the edge between living and dying and she could fall either way. She knew Mathew Hudson had stabbed her in the abdomen and she knew she’d lost a lot of blood; somehow it didn’t matter because she was free from him and she’d hurt him too. She remembered taking his eye out with a toothbrush; God, that felt so good. Hearing him squeal like a pig in a poke had given her the strength to fight on. Somewhere inside, that made her laugh. Her colleagues would be proud of her and the way she fought for her life against a raving lunatic. Bob Dewhurst would pee himself laughing when he heard what she’d done. He always said she was a pocket battleship; small but dangerous, a proper Valley girl.