The Dee Valley Killings

by Simon McCleave

  Merringer sat forwards over the steering wheel, staring through the windscreen.

  ‘Where are you, you bastard?’ he growled.

  ‘Three-six to Control. Request air support to look for target vehicle. Foxtrot-whisky-five-nine, yankee-alpha-alpha. A navy-blue Renault Clio, over.’

  ‘Three-six. Request received. Will advise.’

  Ruth’s anxiety was through the roof. She knew that if Gates got away with Nick, he would almost certainly kill him. As the SIO, it was her responsibility to have known that there was a way of getting out of Bar One Hundred through the delivery entrance on the side road. Why hadn’t they checked that?

  Ruth looked up, but the road ahead was empty. Her heart sank. Jesus, where were they? They were running out of time. The other patrols had taken the minor routes out of the town but had seen nothing. Ruth was hoping to get air support from the North Wales Police helicopter, but sometimes that could take a long time to scramble. She was finding it hard to think clearly.

  Suddenly, Gates’s Renault came into view, speeding up a hill about a mile ahead.

  Ruth’s heart leapt. ‘There they are!’ She clicked her radio. ‘Three-six to all units. Target vehicle spotted two miles north on the A-four-nine-four. Speed eight-zero. Over.’

  ‘Received, three-six. Alpha-five rerouting.’

  The car’s back tyres were losing their grip and slipping as they cornered another bend. But at least they could see them. Now her concern was how to stop Gates and make sure Nick was safe in the process. They couldn’t just ram him off the road.

  They flew over a hump and Ruth’s stomach lurched. Hammering up a hill, over the crest they could see Gates’s Renault was now about half a mile ahead. They were gaining fast. A small set of stone cottages whooshed past in a sickening blur.

  Merringer pulled out to overtake a three-car queue. The drivers looked at them with startled expressions as they flew past.

  Ruth’s radio crackled again. ‘Three-six from Control. Unit-tango-one is now one mile north of you on A-four-nine-four. Gold Command commencing stinger operation on target vehicle at intersection with B-three-zero-two. Over.’

  ‘Three-six. Received,’ Ruth said, but she wasn’t sure this was the best way of stopping Gates. A stinger operation involved deploying a spiked strip across a road and puncturing the tyres of any vehicle that drove over it. Ruth had seen several cars tip and roll when a stinger had been used, and Nick was inside the car. At this speed, Gates and Nick would be killed.

  Suddenly a tractor pulled out of a field in front of them. Merringer swung the car onto the opposite side of the road, missing the tractor by a few feet.

  ‘Jesus!’ Ruth yelled, her hands instinctively going to protect her head.

  ‘For fuck’s sake!’ Merringer said.

  Gates’s Renault was now only five hundred yards away. Gates pulled out to overtake two cars narrowly missing a lorry. It was reckless driving. Ruth knew Gates was desperate and would take risks in his attempt to get away. At this stage, Gates might not care if he lived or died.

  Ruth looked at the digital map on the car’s satnav. The junction with the B302 was now a mile away. She hoped the stinger was in place but she also prayed that the car didn’t go out of control and roll. Ruth took a deep breath, but she was so tense her stomach was cramping.

  How was this going to end? She had a horrible feeling it would be badly.

  Merringer looked over at her. ‘Boss?’

  Ruth glanced up as the road bent to the left.

  In the distance, two Armed Response vehicles were parked with a stinger across the road. Gates’s brake lights flashed bright red as he tried to slow the car. The screech of rubber. Ruth watched as the back of the Renault skidded from side to side.

  Gates had nowhere to go and hit the stinger hard with black tyre smoke pluming into the air. Suddenly she saw the tyres on left-hand-side lift off the ground.

  No! Please, God, don’t let the car flip, Ruth prayed.

  Ruth held her breath. The car dropped onto four wheels again as the Renault kept in a straight line. Thank you, God!

  The shredded tyres rolled either side of the road as the Renault came to a shuddering halt.

  What now? What was Gates’s next move? He had nothing to lose, and that made him incredibly dangerous.

  A few painful seconds passed as Ruth watched the stationary Renault for signs of movement. Nothing.

  The Armed Response officers, Glock 9mms in hand, walked towards the vehicle, ‘Armed police! Get out of the vehicle!’

  Merringer stopped just behind. Ruth jumped out and saw the driver’s door open as Gates appeared. She couldn’t work out if he was in shock or if he was grinning. He held his hands up as one of the AROs cuffed him roughly.

  Ruth sprinted to the passenger door and cranked it open. Nick looked at her but he was still very groggy. ‘Paramedic. We need a paramedic!’ Ruth yelled.

  ‘I’m all right, boss,’ Nick murmured.

  ‘No, you’re not. And you nearly gave me a bloody heart attack.’

  ‘This is a quiet night out for me ...’ Nick slurred with a smile.

  ‘It’s not bloody funny, Nick,’ Ruth snapped.

  She checked around the car as the ARO brought Gates towards Merringer’s car.

  Ruth watched as Gates was moved away from his car, but for a split second his eyes went to the boot. He couldn’t help himself. Ruth spotted it and went to the boot. What the hell was she going to find inside? She clicked it open.

  Laying inside was the body of a young man with blonde hair. From the colour of his skin and the smell, she estimated he must have been dead for at least a week.

  Gates shrugged. ‘I promise you, Ruth. I have never seen that person before in my life. I have no idea how he got in there.’

  ‘Andrew Gates, I am arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

  CHAPTER 13

  A Dean Martin Christmas song was playing on the radio as Nick drew up outside Amanda’s house. The Rohypnol had worn off within a couple of hours of getting back to Llancastell nick, and the police doctor had given him the all-clear. The thundering headache the drug had given him was finally starting to wear off. Even though he felt tired, he had ignored the advice to go to bed and get a good night’s sleep.

  Looking up at the houses on the road, Nick could see the twinkling colours of outside lights and indoor Christmas trees. The festive holidays were looming ominously on the horizon. It would be his first sober Christmas and he knew that most alcoholics found it difficult. It was the festive season where everything was accompanied by booze. He used to love Christmas Day at Uncle Mike and Auntie Pat’s. It was the only day of the year where he could openly drink mid-morning and then for the rest of the day. That was until they discovered that he had a drink problem and he had to go back to hiding his addiction. He consoled himself that he was sticking to the twelve-step programme and his sponsor would be there if he needed. There were meetings all over Christmas – even on Christmas Day. Support was there if he needed it.

  Nick turned off the engine and took a breath. He hadn’t seen Amanda since they had slept together forty-eight hours earlier. He knew the experience had made him feel dangerously high. There was a part of him that worried that he was risking both of their sobrieties by not doing the right thing. The theory was that people in early recovery were emotionally vulnerable. They could launch themselves into a relationship because it was exciting and would make them feel better about themselves. The dopamine and serotonin highs of alcohol would be replaced by similar chemical highs of a honeymoon period.

  However, early recovery was also a time of emotional instability and rawness, which weren’t the best foundations for a new relationship. And if that relationship failed, the alcoholic often couldn’t cope and relapsed to dampen the emotional pain.
>
  Nick had therefore decided, for the first time in his life, to do the sensible thing. He would tell Amanda that seeing her was too risky for both of them. There was a strong part of his reckless side that was telling him to press the fuck-it button and have a relationship with her. But his determination to stay sober was stronger.

  The sound of a door shutting broke his concentration. He looked up and saw Amanda locking her front door. She gave him a little wave as she came towards the car. Nick’s stomach was already tense.

  Amanda got into the car, leant over and kissed Nick quickly on the lips. ‘Hi there. You okay?’

  She looked beautiful in the orange hue of the streetlights. And she smelt amazing.

  ‘Yeah. I’m all right. But there is something I need to talk to you about.’ Nick said, avoiding full eye contact.

  ‘No problem. It was one night. But I get the whole AA thing. And I need to keep sober. So that’s the most important thing for both of us, isn’t it?’ Amanda said calmly.

  Nick felt an immense sense of relief. ‘Yeah. That’s pretty much what I was going to say.’

  ‘Good.’ Amanda smiled, reached over and touched his arm. ‘So ... we’re okay?’

  Nick smiled and nodded. ‘Yes, of course. That sounds like the right thing to do.’

  ‘I think I can just about resist you,’ Amanda teased.

  They drove to the AA meeting and sat separately. Nick watched Amanda as she stood by the hatch where coffee was being served and spoke to the women who had been around the rooms for years. He knew what they had decided was for the best, but when he watched her, he still couldn’t help but wonder, What if ...?

  Wandering outside, Nick pulled out his mobile phone to check some work emails.

  ‘Nick?’ a voice said. It was his dad standing with a few of the smokers. Since coming out of rehab, Nick had seen his dad at an AA meeting most weeks. They always chatted and caught up, and even though conversations never went past that, Nick was glad that they had some kind of relationship. He wasn’t sure they would ever talk openly, but Nick would take what they had now compared to recent years.

  ‘How you doin’, lad?’ Rhys Evans asked, tapping out another cigarette from a pack.

  ‘Work’s busy. You know. Otherwise, plodding along nicely.’ Nick replied.

  ‘Plodding’s good. You coming to the Blackpool conference?’ Rhys asked.

  Nick remembered that there was a huge AA conference up in Blackpool the following month. He wondered if his dad was asking because he wanted him to go. Maybe it would be good to go together, even if the thought made him feel anxious.

  ‘Work dependent, you know? I’d like to go,’ Nick replied.

  ‘You on that murder up on Snowdon?’ Rhys asked.

  ‘Yeah. Harv Pearson was an old friend of mine.’

  ‘Aye, I recognised the name. I knew his old man. I’m sorry to hear that, son.’

  They continued to chat until it was time to go in for the meeting. The room was basic, with two rows of chairs. There was chatter, laughter and smiles. The atmosphere used to baffle Nick because, in his head, he only ever laughed and smiled in social situations when he was drunk. When sober, he used to find any gatherings excruciating. That was changing now, and he was starting to feel a little more comfortable in his skin.

  Nick settled and, as always, the meeting gave him perspective and a calmness. Amanda shared briefly, saying that she was grateful to be there and that she had got a lot from the meeting. He was proud of her.

  As the meeting packed away, Nick’s sponsor ‘Aberdeen Bill’ wandered over and shook his hand with a smile. ‘Nicholas?’

  ‘William.’ Nick smiled back. ‘How are you, Bill?’

  ‘Upright and sober, so I’ll take that.’ Bill gestured over to Amanda who was helping to wash up in the tiny kitchen, ‘You’re friends with Amanda, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yeah. I know her from work. She’s in social services.’ Nick explained but feared that Bill would probe a little more.

  ‘How’s she doing?’ Bill asked.

  ‘She’s doing okay. Three to four meetings a week. Listening. She understands it’s a day at a time.’

  Bill nodded. ‘Early days. She’s a very pretty girl.’

  Nick cringed for a moment. ‘Yeah, I suppose she is.’

  ‘Nothing funny going on, is there?’ Bill asked.

  ‘God no. She’s a newcomer. And I’m only just starting to get it,’ Nick replied. Lying to your sponsor was a mortal sin in AA.

  ‘Good. Glad to hear it.’ Bill nodded. ‘Give me a ring and we’ll go out for coffee. You might need to think about Step Four at the beginning of next year.’

  ‘Yeah. Thanks. Will do.’ Nick was squirming inside.

  Feeling guilty for his deception, Nick wandered outside. Amanda was waiting on the path, smoking a cigarette.

  ‘Come on, chauffeur. Chop, chop.’ She chuckled as they turned to go.

  ‘I really liked your share,’ Nick said. He wanted to be as encouraging as he could.

  ‘Did you? I thought I was waffling on about a load of old nonsense.’

  ‘Far from it. I’m proud of how you’re doing,’ Nick said, and then regretted saying it. It was too intimate, wasn’t it?

  ‘Really? No one’s ever said that to me before.’ Amanda beamed. She stopped to look at him.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Nick asked. Surely someone in her life had told her they were proud of her?

  ‘Pretty dysfunctional family. So no one’s ever said that they’re proud of me before. Never.’ Amanda looked directly at him.

  Oh God, Nick thought as he dropped his gaze to the floor, struggling to fight his feelings.

  ‘Really. Right.’ Nick knew they needed to keep walking.

  As they rounded the corner to where the car was parked, he felt Amanda reach gently for his hand. He didn’t resist. He linked his fingers in between hers and they walked hand in hand to the car. It was such a nice feeling, but Nick could feel his pulse quickening.

  They got into the car and there was a moment of silence. Nick looked over at Amanda. The light inside the car highlighted her face softly. She looked stunning, there was no doubt about it.

  Amanda frowned and pulled a quizzical face. The tension between them was mounting. ‘What are we doing?’ she whispered.

  Nick sighed. ‘I don’t know. But I have an overwhelming desire to kiss you.’ His stomach turned again in excitement. He was going against everything he had thought in the last two days. Time to hit the fuck-it button, he thought.

  ‘You don’t need to ask permission to kiss me.’ Amanda whispered again as she leaned over and pressed her lips to his. Not breaking contact, she slid across and sat astride Nick in the driver’s seat.

  CHAPTER 14

  ‘Andy, can you explain why we found a body in the boot of your car yesterday?’ Ruth asked.

  Gates was unshaven and had his tinted glasses on. He was wearing a grey tracksuit as his clothes had been taken to be forensically checked the night before. Sitting back with his legs apart, Ruth could see Gates was trying to show that he wasn’t fazed by being interviewed. They had been going at it for ten minutes and it frustrated Ruth that they were getting nowhere.

  ‘Ruth, we’ve been through all this. I don’t understand how it got there. Someone must have put it there. That’s the only explanation I can offer.’ Gates shrugged innocently. He was acting like it was a ridiculous question, and it was getting right up her nose.

  Gates glanced over at the duty solicitor and shook his head as if to say that he couldn’t believe he was being asked to go through this again.

  ‘Andy, we found a rope in the boot that has blood on it. It matches marks that we found on the man’s neck. When we check that for DNA, you’re sure that we’re not going to find anything to link you to that rope?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘No, of course not. Can’t you see? Whoever is trying to set me up put the rope in the boot with the body,’ Gates sighed in exasperation.

 
‘And you have no idea who the man in the boot of your car is?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘No, of course not. How could I?’

  Either Gates was enjoying playing with her, or he was so utterly deluded that he truly believed what he was saying. Both options were unsettling.

  Ruth looked back at her notes. ‘Okay, Andy. Does the name Stefan Olsen mean anything to you?’

  ‘Ruth, you asked me that when you came to my house. And I told you quite clearly then, I have never heard that name before,’ Gates said, sounding like he was reprimanding a child.

  ‘You’ve never met Stefan Olsen?’ Ruth asked, trying to remain calm.

  ‘No ...’ Gates gave a chuckle of disbelief.

  ‘Have you ever been on a male dating site, U’veGotMale?’

  ‘What? Oh my God! That sounds like a gay dating site.’ Gates looked at her in utter disgust. ‘Is it?’

  ‘Just answer the question, please.’

  ‘Dear God! I’m sorry but I don’t understand any of this. You know I’m married, Ruth. You met Kerry when you came to my house.’

  Ruth had to give it to Gates. He was convincing in his protests of innocence. She was also aware, however, that only a madman would not realise that the remains at his house, meeting Nick at Bar One Hundred and the body and rope in his car were incontestable proof that he had carried out multiple murders of homosexual men.

  ‘Andy, you know as well as I do that there are men who are seemingly happily married but are homosexual and live a double life.’

  ‘I’m not naïve. But that’s not me.’ Gates shifted in his seat. ‘Is this going to take long? I’ve got to get back to Kerry. There’s no one else to look after her except our neighbour. I’ve got some roofers arriving tomorrow to give me an estimate on the roof. All this nonsense is completely ruining my life.’

  Gates sounded like he had been caught up in a minor traffic accident rather than arrested for multiple murders.

  ‘Can we turn to the property that you own, number four, Abbey Terrace.’ Ruth looked through her notes again. ‘As you know, we have found the remains of Stefan Olsen and two unidentified males in the sewer at the property. A DNA sample shows that the remains originated from your property. Can you explain that to me?’