The Anglesey Murders Box Set

by Conrad Jones

  ***

  Mathew was hurting all over, but his head was clearing. He knew something had happened downstairs. He heard a woman screaming followed shortly by a man pleading for his life. He wasn’t pleading very long before his voice was silenced. Sam had killed someone. He could tell. He didn’t know how he knew but he did. There was a lull for a while then he heard Sam coming back into the house. He listened as his footsteps came up the stairs. Sam pushed the door open. He walked into the room covered in blood.

  ‘Who did you kill?’ Mathew asked.

  ‘My in-laws,’ Sam said. He thought about it, his face blank. ‘And my partner, Llinos and some random guy in Beaumaris.’

  ‘So, we’ve both killed now,’ Mathew said. ‘We’ll both be in the good books. They’ll welcome us in with open arms.’

  ‘We need to get going,’ Sam said. ‘The police are on their way here.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘My boss left a message.’

  ‘I won’t be able to go far on foot,’ Mathew said. ‘What’s your plan?’

  ‘I haven’t got one.’ He shrugged. ‘I was hoping Fabienne might have one. I need you to ring her.’ He gave him his mobile. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

  Sam went into the box room and took out his keys. He opened the shotgun cabinet and removed his Laurona. It was a double-barrelled weapon. He filled his pockets full of shells and slid two into the barrels and then went back into the bedroom. Mathew was talking on the telephone. He didn’t look happy. He looked at Sam and shook his head.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘They’re saying Fabienne doesn’t want to talk to me, but she wants to talk to you,’ Mathew said, handing the phone back to Sam. ‘After everything I’ve done,’ he muttered.

  ‘Hello,’ Sam said. There was silence on the other end. Silence and malice. It was like putting his ear to a block of ice. Fear crept through him. He knew this was going to end badly. The silence spoke volumes to him. There was no escape plan, no sanctuary, and no Fabienne Wilder. It was all smoke and mirrors. They were there until they weren’t there anymore; it was like they’d never been there at all. ‘Hello,’ he repeated. ‘Is anybody there?’

  ‘Answer yes or no,’ a voice said. It was hoarse and old. ‘Mathew has told us your situation. The police are coming to where you are?’

  ‘Yes,’

  ‘Are you injured?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But the boy is?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Badly?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He’s served a purpose, but we don’t carry any deadwood. Kill him. Make your way to the lighthouse at South Stack. There’s a warning sign behind the café. Do you know it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We’ll leave instructions under the sign. Do you understand me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The line went dead. The coldness dissipated and the malice was gone in an instant. He questioned if had actually been there at all.

  ‘What did they say?’ Mathew asked. He looked sulky. ‘I can’t believe she wouldn’t talk to me. I wanted to tell her about my eye.’

  ‘Maybe you’re not as special as you think you are,’ Sam said. He aimed the shotgun at his head and pulled the trigger. Both barrels roared and Mathew’s head and upper body were turned to pulp. He reloaded and fired again. Sam studied what was left of his face. Mathew was no more. Sam turned and walked out of the bedroom, heading down the stairs. The sound of sirens in the distance made the hairs on his skin rise. They were coming for him and they were close.

  CHAPTER 57

  Joss swore when the stream of traffic came to a halt. The tailback appeared to be miles long. There was no traffic coming from the other direction either. That was a bad sign. The last time he’d seen that, a car transporter had spilled its load on the bridge. It was closed for five hours and then it took another five to clear the backed-up traffic. He indicated and crept down the hard shoulder a few hundred yards to the Rhosneigr turnoff and exited the expressway. He headed through the villages, past the Oyster Catcher restaurant, and onto the Aberffraw road.

  He put his foot down and accelerated. The road was clear as far as he could see. He could rejoin the A55 at Llanfair. It would take a bit longer this way, but the expressway was at a standstill. Being a local helped when the main roads were blocked. He pushed the Transit as fast as it would go. The temperature gauge started to climb. He cursed the day he was born and lifted his foot a little, taking the van back down to sixty. The temperature stabilised. He lit a cigarette and opened the window, allowing the smoke to calm his shattered nerves. It was then he saw the blue flashing lights in the distance.

  ***

  Sam got to the top of the farm track just as the first unit was coming into sight. He put the Mercedes in gear and pulled out, heading in the direction of Aberffraw. The wheels screamed as the tyres found purchase on the tarmac. His car lurched forward, pushing him back into his seat. He looked into the rear-view mirror and saw the police vehicles following him. John Deans knew his car and he was probably in the first Shogun. He had to reach South Stack to have even a sniff of a chance. There was no way he could escape them now. There were bodies all over the farm and Mathew Hudson was spread all over the bedroom wall. He changed up through the gears pushing the Merc to its limits. The narrow winding road was difficult to navigate in daylight at a reasonable pace; driving at this speed at night was suicide but what choice did he have? None. He pushed it faster but couldn’t shake of the Shogun behind him. It was a hundred yards away and closing when he saw a Transit van coming in the other direction. The van was travelling at speed.

  Sam waited until the last second and then swerved into the path of the transit. He saw the expression on the van driver’s face. It was a picture of horror, eyes wide and staring. The van veered into the other lane to avoid impact, straight into the path of the oncoming Shogun. They couldn’t avert their vehicles and the collision was catastrophic. The second Shogun ran into the back of the first and span across the road, blocking the third Shogun from the pursuit. Sam watched the carnage in the mirror; he sighed with relief and drove on into the night.

  CHAPTER 58

  The backroads through Caergeiliog and Valley were empty. Sam drove through Trearddur Bay and took the Porth Dafarch road. The sky was clear, and a half moon was hanging over the mountain, silhouetting it in silver light; he could see it shimmering on the tops of the waves as he navigated the Cliff bends. As he climbed the steep hill which led up to South Stack, he could see blue lights behind him in the distance. They were coming through the bay. They weren’t far behind. He wondered what the Niners were planning. How could they get him away from there? There was one road up and one road down.

  He reached the café and turned into the car park. It was deserted. He stopped and turned off the lights; he grabbed the Laurona and climbed out and ran across the gravel towards the cliffs. He tripped in a pothole and fell heavily on his hands; his shotgun clattered on the stones. The gravel scraped the skin from his palms and cut his fingers. He cursed and got back to his feet, looking down the mountain at the approach road. The police were at the bottom of the hill. He picked up his shotgun, turned, and ran to the path which led to Ellin’s Tower; the cliff edge was fifty yards to his right, across the grass. The moonlight illuminated the scene. He stumbled across the grass until he could see the warnings signs at the edge of the cliff. Over the edge was the Red Wall; a slab buttress, two-hundred feet high. He slowed down as he approached the edge.

  Hanging from one corner of the sign was a small rucksack. He leaned the gun against the sign, snatched at the bag, and opened the flap. There was a bottle and a lighter and a newspaper cutting. He tried to read it. Beneath the photograph was the story of a young woman, who set herself alight before throwing herself from the Britannia Bridge. The moonlight intensified for a few seconds and he could see the custody suite mugshot of the girl he’d arrested years before. What was this supposed to be? Was this
the best they could come up with? He looked around for inspiration but there was none to be found. They’d given him the options. Be arrested or take the walk over the cliff. He sat on the grass and looked at the cutting again. A gust of wind took it from his fingers, and it tumbled in the air, over the cliff and down, down, down towards the seething waves. They crashed against the jagged rocks, foaming white in the moonlight. Sam picked up the bottle and the lighter and looked at them. He thought about what he’d done and why and it all seemed so futile now. He’d been manipulated and then discarded like a toy a child has become bored with. Was this the chaos they wanted so much?

  He tossed the bottle and the lighter into the wind and watched them fall for what felt like forever until they hit the water. He could hear the police vehicles skidding to a halt in the car park. Armed officers deployed and moved quickly towards the path. Torchlight dazzled him. He could hear them shouting instructions but couldn’t decipher the words. They had no meaning to him. Nothing mattered anymore. Everything that had mattered was gone. It was time to decide what to do. Live or die. He picked up the shotgun and aimed it at the torchlight and squeezed the trigger. The shotgun discharged; the noise deafening; the kick powerful then he felt bullets ripping into his body. Muscle and sinew were torn, bones smashed, yet he felt nothing. Darkness surrounded him and he embraced it. He stumbled towards the edge of the cliff and took one last breath before he stepped off.

  Epilogue

  Alan and Kim pulled up at the Anglesey Land Rover unit. CSI officers were already examining the warehouse. They exited the BMW and ducked beneath the crime scene tape. There was a busy atmosphere about the place and Pamela Stone was animated, organising her technicians.

  ‘I wanted to have a look around this place,’ Kim said. ‘I knew Joss Jones was a bad egg.’

  ‘Be careful what you wish for,’ Alan said. They walked towards the roller shutters which had been left open. The vast unit was full of vehicles. ‘There’s a few quid worth in here,’ he said, looking around. ‘That Lincoln is a collector’s piece.’

  ‘You are a nerd, aren’t you,’ Kim said.

  ‘Hello, Pamela,’ Alan said. ‘Tell me you’ve made some sense out of all this.’

  ‘Follow me,’ she gestured for them to follow her. ‘This is where all the fun took place,’ Pamela said, approaching a mass of evidence markers. ‘Come and look closely at this.’ They walked toward the office, which had a window looking into the unit. There were patches of blood pooled on the concrete floor. ‘Have you read the crash inspector’s report?’

  ‘Only the first draft,’ Alan said. ‘It read like a cross between a thriller novel and a puzzle book.’ He shrugged. ‘Seven dead gangsters and a million-pounds worth of cocaine welded into a van and one dead driver who can’t tell us where he was heading.’

  ‘I think I can tell you what happened,’ Pamela said. ‘Look at the tow truck over there. The doors above the rear wheels had been welded closed and then cut open. The bulkhead has tested positive for being in contact with cocaine. So, we know a large amount of cocaine could fit into it. I think it was used to transport the cocaine here.’

  ‘Okay, I’m with you so far,’ Alan said. ‘There was a drug exchange taking place in here which went to the dogs.’

  ‘Yes. And I can tell you why.’

  ‘Go on, please. I’m all ears.’

  ‘See those vials over there,’ Pamela said. ‘The liquid inside was supposed to test the quality of the product. If the coke was good, the liquid would be purple. They tested the product and it didn’t react, so they thought it was a sting and they shot each other, right here. Five bodies, five pools of blood.’

  ‘And the other two?’ Alan asked.

  ‘Now, they were shot in the back of the transit. I think your dead gangsters weren’t very good at reading English. This liquid is made to test for the metabolites benzoylecgonine and cocaethylene, which are left behind when cocaine is used in the human body. It doesn’t test for cocaine itself.’

  ‘They used the wrong chemical?’ Alan said, shaking his head. ‘Someone thought the gear was talc and they started shooting.’ Pamela nodded. ‘Joss Jones has been under suspicion for a while. Kim spoke to him at the transport museum the other day. I guess we can cross him off our watch list.’

  ‘How’s John Deans and the other officers?’ Pamela asked.

  ‘Not out of the woods yet but they should pull through,’ Alan said. ‘We’re going to the hospital next. Good work, Pamela. I’ll call you later.’

  ***

  April was awake and sitting up in bed. Her parents and Casey had taken the kids to McDonalds. The operation had been a success and she was taking fluids and keeping them. There was no sign of infection. Alan and Kim knocked on the door and she waved them in with a weak hand. She looked drawn with dark circles under her eyes but there was a sparkle in them that signalled she was on the mend. Her body was weakened by her injury, but her spirit was strong and would drag her back to health.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Alan asked. He immediately felt stupid. It was a stupid question. ‘We heard you were awake and talking. So, we thought we’d say hello and let you know everyone at the station is thinking about you.’

  ‘Thank you. That’s very kind. Casey has been inundated with messages from people. And I’m feeling better, all things considered.’ She paused for thought. ‘Have you spoken to Bob?’ she asked, concerned. ‘I think he blames himself for Hudson taking me.’

  ‘He does, but he’s old school. Once he sees you up and about, he’ll be fine,’ Alan said. ‘Don’t worry about him; he’s tough as old boots.’

  ‘I know. It wasn’t his fault, you know,’ April said. ‘There was nothing he could have done.’

  ‘We know that. Hudson is a freak of nature. No one can predict that kind of violence.’

  ‘He got what was coming to him, in the end,’ April said, nodding.

  ‘You could say that,’ Alan said. The family came back into the room and they shook hands and chatted. The children ate their nuggets and laughed at Alan’s silly jokes. It felt like a very normal scene; mum, dad, grandparents, and family friends all talking and laughing.

  Alan didn’t tell April that Janet Hudson had taken an overdose that morning. Her friend found her body next to an empty bottle of pills and a vodka bottle. There were no winners, only losers; some lost more than others. One thing was for sure, he’d keep an open mind in the future. Just because he didn’t believe, didn’t mean that others didn’t. Satanists, Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, and the rest all believed in their Gods and their scriptures; scriptures that were written by mortal men; scriptures that were invented to inflict control over other mortals. Whatever he thought about it, didn’t matter. They believed. Some people believed enough to kill those who don’t believe in the same things. It was on the news every day. Keeping an open mind was important.

  ***

  Pamela Stone pointed to a screen in the operations room. The image of a body appeared. It was in an advanced state of decay.

  ‘This is Colin Hughes; a fifty-two-year-old from Penmon, reported missing by his wife two weeks before he was pulled out of the sea near Llandudno by a fishing boat.’ She changed the image. ‘It was thought he’d been swept away while digging bait. His vehicle was recovered from the castle car park at Beaumaris. He wasn’t swept away; he was beaten over the head with a heavy object, possibly a spade or shovel. The level of damage to the skull indicates he was hit several times.’ She gestured to Alan to continue. The image of a tooth appeared.

  ‘This tooth was recovered from the sleeve of Mr Hughes’s coat. DNA examination identifies the tooth belongs to Llinos Evans, the partner of Samuel Strydhorst. How her tooth ended up on Colin Hughes, we can only speculate but I’d hazard a guess she was murdered and incinerated and disposed of by Strydhorst.’ A series of images from the surgery were shown. ‘Gwillam Evans was found in the incinerator and his wife, Wendy was found next to it; her neck was broken.’ Images of Math
ew Hudson’s corpse flashed across the screen. ‘Hudson was found shot to death in bed in a spare room of the farmhouse. The injury to his leg was so severe that we have to rule out that he participated in the deaths of the Evans family. Llinos, Gwillam, and Wendy were killed by Strydhorst. What possessed him to go to the aid of Hudson, we’ll never know for sure but examination of Llinos’ laptop show that they regularly communicated with a website connected to O9A. Why did Strydhorst shoot Hudson?’ Alan shrugged. ‘We’ll never know that either. We can speculate maybe he became violent or threatening or maybe Strydhorst knew it was all over and thought Hudson was a liability.’

  ‘Why not just leave him there?’ Kim asked.

  ‘Who knows?’ Alan said, shaking his head. ‘A phone call was made on Strydhorst’s mobile phone ten minutes before the ARU spotted him making a run for it. His mobile was in his car. The number he rang was a prepaid burner phone. Did he call someone for help, or did he call someone for instructions? We can make of that what we want to, but my theory is Llinos didn’t want to go along with Hudson being at her farm and that cost her and her parents their lives. We’ve passed all the information we have on this to a unit in the NCA who are investigating the organisation full-time.’

  ‘What’s happening with the Karpov connection?’ Bob Dewhurst asked.

  ‘All their ID was found at the Anglesey Land Rover unit and it’s been passed over the GMP to deal with informing relatives and the like. The local families have been informed.’ He looked around the room at the tired faces. ‘You all did a good job, well done. Go home and get some sleep.’ A ripple of chatter ran through the gathering. ‘If anyone fancies a beer, I’ll be in the Black Seal in about half an hour. The first round is on me.’