The Anglesey Murders Box Set

by Conrad Jones

  ‘According to his records, he is still in HMP Berwyn.’

  ‘Kim,’ Alan said, turning to her. ‘Get over there and speak to him. Take Will with you. Nail the bastard to the floor. He was the doctor’s accomplice.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’ Will asked, frowning.

  ‘The doctor had a heart attack and Howarth was lifted and jailed for grooming two years ago when the doctor died.’ He pointed to the screen. ‘You see? That is why nobody went back to clean up. I bet Howarth didn’t even know that he was dead. He wouldn’t have expected any contact from him in jail in case we had stumbled across this. I bet Howarth thinks the doctor is still alive and that he just cleaned up the operation and retired to Marbella.’

  ‘Makes sense,’ Will said, picking up his jacket. ‘I’ll get over there now.’

  ‘What about the others?’ Google asked. ‘The men on the tapes.’

  ‘We stay on it until we have nailed every one of the bastards. If we get one name from facial recognition, we can lean on them for the others involved. Jack Howarth is our key into the operation. I guarantee it.’

  CHAPTER 43

  Alan was sitting in his office, allowing himself to be a little bit excited. He’d had a feeling about those vans the first time he had laid eyes on them. They had been parked, side by side in a line by an organised mind and stripped of their identification. In hindsight, he knew that the doctor had been a cautious man. He had probably used the vans for kidnapping several times and then retired them from use. Scrapping them wasn’t an option. There would be records created. So, he left them nearby yet invisible to the world and systematically stripped them to nothing but lumps of rusting metal. It would have worked too if he hadn’t died and Jack hadn’t been arrested at roughly the same time. A knock on the door disturbed his thoughts.

  ‘Alan,’ ACC Thomas poked his head around the door. ‘Have you got a minute?’

  ‘Of course, sir,’ Alan said, standing.

  ‘Sit down,’ the ACC said. He had a worried expression on his face. ‘I’m the bearer of bad news, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘How is the Javed Ahmed murder going?’

  ‘We are working on it, sir. Amongst other things. I can see the spot where he was killed on CCTV footage,’ Alan said.

  ‘Of course, you can,’ the ACC said. He coughed and cleared his throat nervously. ‘I’m afraid the CPS are dropping the charges against Derek Makin.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Ahmed was the only witness. Jones is dead and Makin’s wife is giving him an alibi for the time he arrived home. There’s no way that he could have hung around the Paradise club until Jones came out and made it home in that time.’

  ‘She’s lying,’ Alan said, angrily.

  ‘Of course, she’s lying!’ the ACC snapped. ‘Everyone is always lying. They lie, we lie, it is just a case of who the CPS thinks the jury will believe. We have no witnesses left to testify.’

  ‘They can’t let him out. He shot Lloyd Jones and he threatened Mr Ahmed at gunpoint.’

  ‘They can and they have, I’m afraid.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake!’ Alan slapped the desk. ‘I sometimes wonder why we bother. It’s a joke!’

  ‘You’re not going to like this either,’ the ACC mumbled. Alan looked at him and sat back in his chair. ‘The CPS has deemed the video evidence against Viktor Karpov is inadmissible. It was gathered by criminals during criminal activities. If it had been filmed by undercover officers, it would have been okay but this way. The criminals were coerced and they were allowed to continue with their involvement in criminal behaviour.’ He paused. ‘I can see their point. They released him this morning.’

  ‘And Jones’s men?’

  ‘Their lawyers are all over it. It’s the same evidence gathered the same way. DI West didn’t do her due diligence. They’ll be out by the morning.’

  ‘So, the only man left in jail is Brian Selby. The most unlikely criminal that I’ve ever met. I’m beginning to think that justice is as rare as a hen’s tooth.’

  ‘We can only do what we can do, Alan. You’re a good detective but we have rules to follow and a system to abide by. Well done. You have done your best.’ Alan looked at him and nodded. He just wanted to go home and attack the whisky. Sleep would be hard to come by without it. The ACC turned and walked out of the door without another word. There was nothing else to say.

  chapter 44

  Jack was sitting in a wheelchair, a blanket over his legs. The doctor pushing him was sweating nervously. He checked that the corridor at the back of the X-ray room was empty. It was. The G4S guard was outside the main entrance, reading the paper and texting his wife’s sister on his phone. He had been trying to get into her pants for months and she was finally coming around to the idea of an affair. Her husband had left her a year ago and the idea of no strings attached sex appealed to her. She had never got on with her sister anyway, so banging her husband a few times a week would be a thrill.

  The doctor pointed down the corridor. He gave Jack a baseball cap and a coat and a thousand pounds.

  ‘The taxi rank is at the end of that corridor,’ he said. ‘We’re even. Now fuck off out of this hospital and don’t ever come back. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.’

  ‘There’s no need for that, doctor,’ Jack said, grinning. ‘We had some good times, didn’t we?’

  ‘Fuck off! Go before I change my mind.’ He watched Jack wheeling himself towards the exit and hoped that he would never see or hear from him again.

  He turned around and pushed open the door of the X-ray waiting room. Stepping inside, he closed the door and held his breath. Memories of the cellar at the farm came flooding back to him. They were memories that sickened him and excited him too. It was more than sex. He couldn’t explain what it was. In his day job, he stopped people hurting; he stopped their pain. In the cellar, along with others, he had inflicted it on the weak and vulnerable. He used the words underage where society would call them children. When he looked at his own teenage daughters, he felt sick and twisted about what he had done but there were dark times when his mind wanted to return to the tears and the sobbing. He had supressed his evil desires as best he could for years. In the beginning, it was supposed to be sex but they started hurting the victims more and more and he loved it. The first time he saw one of them murdered, he never went back. That was a step too far. He began to question how he had become involved in such evil. Ian Thomas, the consultant who rented the farm had befriended him and one drunken night they confessed to having similar taste in underage sex. That was the beginning. They were friends for years but they fell out when he stopped going to the farm. The consultant was worried that he would talk. He warned him that if he ever spoke of the farm to anyone, he would have someone visit his family. He had also told him that everything he had done had been filmed and if they were caught, he would take him down with him.

  He pushed the memories from his mind and looked around and then gritted his teeth before slamming the back of his head against the wall. The impact split his scalp and left blood trickling down the magnolia paintwork. He lay face down on the floor and waited for someone to discover that Jack Howarth had pushed him against the wall, knocking him out and escaped via the back door.

  chapter 45

  Matt arrived home from prison in a taxi, paid the driver and climbed out. The place was in darkness. A for sale sign flapped in the wind. He walked up the drive and looked into the living room window. The lights were out but he could see that the furniture had gone and the floorboards were bare. His heart sank. He took out his mobile and dialled San for the fifteenth time. The answering service said that the number was no longer in service for the fifteenth time, just in case he hadn’t believed it the first time. He walked to the front door and tried his key. It didn’t fit. She had changed the locks too. He thought about going to her mother’s house but he knew that she wouldn’t be there. Wherever she was, she would make sure that he couldn’t find
her. He called Justin’s number. Justin answered; the background noise told him that he was in a pub somewhere.

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘Where are you?’ Matt asked.

  ‘In Holyhead. Where are you?’

  ‘At home.’

  ‘How’s that going?’

  ‘Sandra has fucked off with the kids. It’s a long story.’ ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to come to town and get smashed. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.’

  ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

  ‘I know where Lloyd kept his emergency stash.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘There’s usually ten grand and two kilos there.’

  ‘You’re bullshitting me?’

  ‘Nope. Tomorrow morning we’re back in business.’

  ‘I’m in the Welsh Fusilier,’ Justin said, excitedly. ‘I’ve been shitting my pants about what to do when I got out!’

  ‘We’ll do what we’re good at. Without Lloyd around, we’ve got a good chance of making it too. He was a crazy bastard. I’ll see you in half an hour. Wait there for me.’

  ‘I’ll see you in a bit.’

  Matt cut the call and glanced back at the house. This was it. He had a choice, find Sandra over the next few weeks, go straight and get a job working nine to five and bring up his kids like any normal dad or start up in business again tomorrow, make a shit load of money, drive nice cars and lay pretty women. He put his phone into his pocket and walked away. Starting again was exciting and this time, he was the boss.

  chapter 46

  Brian Selby was numb with pain. It felt crippling. The prison councillor had summoned him to an interview on D-Wing. He’d been escorted there by Officer Clough who was working on C-Wing that day. He insisted on calling him ‘Lard Arse’. The news that his mum had suffered a stroke in the night and was found dead by a carer the next morning was devastating. He was sent to the pharmacy and given two sleeping tablets that were to be taken at lights-out. That was it.

  ‘Your mother has died, here are some tablets to help you sleep. The funeral? No, you won’t be able to attend. You are in prison on a murder charge, remember?’

  Not being allowed to bury her was a hammer blow. He couldn’t fathom how they could not allow him an hour to say his goodbyes. She had been the only constant in his life apart from being bullied; that would always be there. The sense of guilt was like nothing he had ever experienced before. If he had been at home where he should have been, he may have been able to save her. The fact that she had died alone was impossible to come to terms with. She had been there for him all his life and when she had reached her final moments, she had to face them helpless and alone. He simply couldn’t deal with it.

  The journey back to C-Wing was a blur. He was tripped up from behind by other prisoners three times. Three times in fifteen minutes. Officer Clough thought it was hilarious.

  When he reached his cell, his personal belongings had been stolen. His soap, his deodorant, even his toothbrush. They had taken his new razor and left the old one on the floor. To top it all, his chocolates and crisps were gone too. He complained to officer Clough immediately but he said that prison was full of crooks and where did he want him to start looking? Wasn’t he supposed to be protecting him? Obviously not. It was like being back at school only ten times worse and now there was no going home to his mum, not ever. It would be like that every day until he was old. Bullied and pushed around and the target of cruel taunts, fatty this and fatty that and fatty the other. He was sick of it. He was sick of living. When lights-out came, he lay in the half darkness and listened to the sound of prison. Laughter, abuse, crying, anger and frustration saturated the very fabric of the building.

  Brian took his sleeping pills and washed them down with water. Water that had a metallic after-taste. Even the water was bad. How could they get water wrong? He reached down for his razor and picked it up. The thin metal blade glinted dully in the nightlights. He pressed the edge against the metal bedframe until the plastic cracked, exposing the blade. It was time to leave and be with Mum. He had no idea where but he knew that she would be waiting for him when he arrived. The tablets were making him sluggish. He put his head on the pillow and turned onto his back. Placing the blade against his wrists, he paused to think about the pain. It would hurt. Dying that way wouldn’t be pleasant but then living was agony. The alternative was the easy way out. A few painful slices through the flesh and darkness would come. The pain would be gone, so would the name calling, and so would being fat. He could start again. Taking a deep breath, he made the first cut vertically from the wrist to the elbow, long and deep. Tears trickled from his eyes and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from crying out as he made the second cut. The blood flowed, the warm sensation on his skin not unpleasant. He changed hands and sliced the opposite wrist and then dropped the razor onto the floor and closed his eyes. The pain became a dull ache. His mind became fuzzy, his muscles weak. Darkness became darker still. He was drifting away, dying, leaving this earthly plane. Everything was peaceful.

  The observation hatch opened and officer Clough looked in. Brian was on fifteen-minute observation checks. It was standard operations following the death of a parent or child on the outside. The alarm blared and the door burst open and his peace was shattered. He came rushing back into the chaos that was life. Brian felt them tugging at his limbs. He felt his arms being wrapped in material. Voices called out; orders were given. He felt warm breath on his ear.

  ‘Oh no you don’t, Lard-Arse!’ Officer Clough whispered. ‘Not on my nightshift, you’re not worth the paperwork.’

  Brian felt sick to the pit of his stomach. They wouldn’t even let him die in peace.

  EPILOGUE

  One year later

  Jack Howarth was standing next to Lloyd Jones’s grave. He hadn’t brought flowers. That wasn’t necessary. Lloyd wouldn’t have wanted flowers. He wasn’t a flower type of guy. Jack spat on his grave and unzipped his jeans. He took out his penis and pissed on the gravestone. Lloyd would have appreciated that. Whatever level of hell he was suffering in, it would bring a smile to his lips. Jack finished urinating and zipped himself up. He patted the headstone and walked away. His limp wasn’t as bad now and the aching pains had subsided. It was nearly time to go back to work. The urges were becoming irresistible. He was set up on the internet again and the demand had not diminished, in fact it had intensified. It was a shame that the doctor and Lloyd were dead. Jack was a master of acquiring victims. Some sites online were calling disappearances as the work of the Child Taker. Lloyd and Dr Thomas had had a knack for disposing of bodies. Lloyd had been secretive about what he did with them but chatter on the landings had mentioned that Lloyd had put brothers from a rival outfit through an industrial mincing machine. When he had heard that, Jack realised what he had done. The doctor had become concerned that the trench was full and that as the bodies decomposed, the surface would subside, leaving a visible scar on the land. He said that he would have to keep levelling it off to hide it and that any activity with a digger was too visible. Lloyd had said that he would dispose of the bodies, no problem. When asked how, he used to tap his index finger against his nose.

  ‘Best you don’t know,’ he would say, with a wry smile.

  Jack smiled at the memories. He always knew that there were sicker people than him out there. Lloyd Jones had been one of them and it had been an absolute pleasure to have known him.

  THE END

  Nearly Dead is part of The Anglesey Murders and the prequel to the bestselling Detective Alec Ramsay Series, which is seven novels long. Conrad has written 24 crime thrillers. To read the entire series for less than £6, click here; https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B01MQGCR6S

  If you enjoyed Nearly Dead, then please leave a review. They help the author with visibility which is the only way they can keep writing the books you enjoy. The 3rd Anglesey book will be published in September. Many thanks for your time.

  A C
hild for the Devil

  By Conrad Jones

  Detective Inspector Braddick Series

  Brick

  Shadows

  Guilty Until Proven Innocent

  Deliver Us from Evil

  Detective Alec Ramsay Series

  The Child Taker

  Criminally Insane

  Slow Burn

  Frozen Betrayal

  Desolate Sands

  Concrete Evidence

  Thr3e

  Soft Target Series

  Soft Target

  Soft Target II ‘Tank’

  Soft Target III ‘Jerusalem’

  The Rage Within

  Blister

  The Child Taker

  Unleashed

  Blood Bath

  The Book of Abominations

  ISBN; 9781698022680

  COPYRIGHT@CONRADJONES2019

  Dedicated to Evie Jones

  PROLOGUE

  Malcolm Baines woke up with a banging headache. He was disorientated and confused. There were murmuring voices in his head; he couldn’t make out the words – they were almost whispers. A sickly, rotten smell filled his senses. As he opened his eyes, his vision was misty and blurred, and he decided never to mix vodka shots with cider again. It wasn’t the first time he’d said, ‘never again’. Malcolm often made resolutions in the haze of the previous night’s alcohol, but he rarely stuck to them. He was weak when sober, but after a few drinks his willpower was virtually non-existent. If he combined alcohol with cocaine, he was partying into the small hours of the morning.