Good Bad and Pure Evil: Anglesey Mysteries (The Anglesey Mysteries Book 1) Page 4

  ‘Awkward for who?’ the priest asked. ‘Not awkward for you, I’m sure.’

  ‘We’re not trying to make you feel awkward.’

  ‘Well. You are making me feel awkward. Very awkward indeed. I’m not a closet paedophile nor a closet anything else for that matter,’ Creegan said, growing frustrated. ‘I can assure you there are no sexual skeletons in my closet. You need to look elsewhere for the reason that man chose to end his life the way he did. He was clearly deeply disturbed.’

  ‘Disturbed people are rarely so organised and dramatic,’ Alan said.

  ‘I’m not sure I follow.’

  ‘Disturbed people throw themselves under trains or off motorway bridges with no regard for the painful death they’ll endure. There is rarely such a level of planning, or paraphernalia involved.’

  ‘You’ve lost me.’

  ‘Do you own a shotgun, Father?’

  ‘Good heavens, no. Why on earth would I want a shotgun?’

  ‘Sport,’ Kim said.

  ‘Football is sport. Shotguns are designed to kill. I would question the reason why anyone wants to own one.’ The priest shook his head in disgust. ‘There must be something wrong with them mentally.’

  ‘I have two,’ Kim interjected.

  ‘I mean no offence.’ The priest held up his hands in apology. ‘I’m tired and not a fan of guns.’

  ‘A lot of people in rural communities and farming areas own them. There are thousands on this island.’ The Father looked shocked. ‘I use them for clay pigeon shooting. Sport.’

  ‘I see. Please accept my apology. I meant no harm.’

  ‘Apology accepted,’ Kim said. ‘The gun used in your house doesn’t belong to you or anyone you know?’

  ‘No. Of course not.’

  ‘If it isn’t yours, it’s paraphernalia, Father Creegan.’

  ‘What is paraphernalia?’ Father Creegan asked, shaking his head. ‘You’re referring to the shotgun?’

  ‘I am. A complete stranger made his way on foot to your home, broke in, and attacked you in the bathroom, tied you up, undressed, and blew his brains all over your bedroom wall.’

  ‘That would appear to be a reasonable summary of events.’

  ‘He had to have the gun with him when he arrived. Hardly a simple thing to achieve bearing in mind where you live. It would take a level of planning beyond the capabilities of someone suffering a breakdown,’ Alan surmised. ‘You can see where I’m coming from, Father?’

  ‘Yes. I can, but there are other possibilities.’

  ‘Such as?’ Alan asked, but the priest remained silent. ‘You want us to consider this very deliberate act was carried out by a complete stranger who just happened to stumble across your house?’ Alan asked.

  ‘He may not be a stranger but that doesn’t mean I know him and he may have arrived by bus or taxi or parked nearby and walked to the vicarage.’ Creegan grasped for an explanation. He was becoming annoyed. ‘How would I know?’

  ‘He got a bus carrying a shotgun?’ Alan asked, smiling. ‘We haven’t recovered a gun case of any kind at the scene and I’m certain most bus and taxi drivers would be extremely reluctant to pick up someone carrying a gun, case or no case.’ He paused to let the priest think. ‘The local taxi companies have no record of anyone being dropped off in your part of the island and it is pretty remote, to say the least.’

  ‘Meaning what?’

  ‘Taxi drivers would remember dropping someone off in the middle of nowhere.’ Alan shrugged and watched Creegan’s expression change. He looked genuinely confused. ‘Especially carrying a shotgun.’

  ‘Yes. I can see how that would be memorable,’ Creegan mumbled.

  ‘We’ve canvassed most of your parishioners and no one has reported or noticed anyone missing from the community.’ He left another pause. ‘There are no abandoned vehicles nearby, so we’re back to the original question, which is why would a stranger kill himself in your home?’

  ‘I simply can’t answer you, detective,’ Creegan said. His eyes held Alan’s. He reached for a cup of water and sipped it. ‘And I might add that I’m not happy with your tone or your insinuations.’

  ‘That’s unfortunate, but a man has blown his head off in your bedroom and he wanted you specifically to witness the act and the aftermath.’

  ‘I can see how it looks like that.’

  ‘I can’t apologise for doing my job, Father Creegan.’ Alan shrugged. The priest nodded that he understood. ‘So, I’ll be straight with you.’

  ‘Please do.’

  ‘In my book, you know who this man was.’

  ‘You’re very wrong.’

  ‘He targeted you specifically.’

  ‘You’re saying he wanted me to witness it. Me specifically?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying.’

  ‘That’s pure speculation.’

  ‘Really?’ Alan asked. ‘He definitely knew who you were or why would he target you as his audience?’

  ‘Because I’m a priest.’

  ‘In which case he must have known you’re a priest. He wasn’t wandering aimlessly around the island waiting for someone wearing a dog collar to go by.’

  ‘Maybe he wanted one of God’s servants to witness his death.’ Creegan suggested. ‘I can’t tell you the answer,’ he added with a narrow smile. ‘And I can’t tell you who he was. I didn’t see him.’

  ‘Did you witness his death, Father Creegan?’ Alan asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Did you actually witness his death?’ Alan repeated. ‘Only earlier you said he was already dead when you came around.’

  ‘Yes. He was already dead.’

  ‘Did you hear the blast?’

  ‘I’ve had enough of this.’ Creegan sighed. ‘I’m not sure being attacked and tied to a chair and left to starve to death is actually a crime or have I missed something?’ The priest frowned. ‘Why do I feel like you think I’ve committed a crime?’ Alan and Kim remained silent. ‘I’m the victim and I’m very tired and you’re confusing me,’ Father Creegan said, folding his arms. ‘If you have any more questions, I suggest you arrest me for something, and I’ll bring the Church’s solicitors with me. They’re very experienced at dealing with slander and false accusations.’ The priest looked at them defiantly. His eyes challenged them. ‘Now, please leave me alone. I’m not saying anything else to you.’

  ‘Okay, Father Creegan,’ Alan said. ‘I understand you’re frustrated. We’ll leave it at that for now.’ Alan gestured to Kim that they should leave. As they reached the door, he turned back to the priest. ‘Just one more question.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘How do you think your attacker got into the vicarage?’ Alan asked. Father Creegan looked stumped. His face blushed a little. ‘There’s no sign of a break-in, you see.’ The priest shrugged but didn’t answer. ‘Do you think you might have left the front door open by mistake?’

  ‘I have no idea how he got in,’ Creegan said. His lips narrowed and the muscles at his temple twitched. ‘You’re the detectives. Go and detect.’

  Alan nodded and smiled. ‘We will do that,’ he said. ‘I hope you’re on the mend soon.’

  ****

  Luca counted his takings. He had sold enough cocaine to pay Sutton what he owed him and a bit more on top. That was a relief because Sutton was becoming oppressive to work for. He was taking too much of his own gear and becoming a paranoid prick. One day he would push someone too far and get a good hiding. He wasn’t as hard as he thought he was. It wasn’t that long ago that Jon Price destroyed him and sent him to Ysbyty Gwynedd in the back of an ambulance. He did use a baseball bat, but that didn’t matter; a win is a win. At the time, Sutton was pushing his weight around and he got slapped into place for it. That was in the good old days when Price was top dog on the island and Sutton was just the fat boy who dealt from an ice-cream van on the council estates. The same thing would happen again if he didn’t take a chill pill and stop giving everyone a hard time. He needed t
o realise there’s always someone who can beat you, especially if they bring a weapon to the party. His phone rang. Talk of the devil. It was Sutton.

  ‘All right, mate,’ Luca said. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Have you heard about Price?’

  ‘No. What about him?’

  ‘He’s out, man,’ Sutton said. He sounded worried. ‘I need you to keep your eyes and ears open and if you speak to him, I want to know about it.’

  ‘How can he be out?’ Luca asked, incredulous but excited too. ‘He’s only done seven years.’

  ‘Some crazy shit to do with the virus. They released all of them.’

  ‘That’s madness. Fucked up.’ Luca fist bumped the air. Jon Price would wipe the floor with Sutton’s head and then stick it up his arse. ‘I’ll keep my ear to the ground. Don’t worry. You can count on me.’

  ‘I’m not worried. Call me if you hear anything,’ Sutton said bluntly before he rang off.

  Luca wanted to call his contacts to see if anyone had spoken to Jon, but decided to let others do the gossiping. Sutton would be watching like a hawk. He would be looking for dissent in the ranks and there would be plenty. It all started going wrong for Sutton when he began screwing Hayley Longhurst earlier in the year and things went downhill from there. Granted, she was good looking enough and half Sutton’s age, but she was also a raging cokehead with a volatile temper and a jealous streak the size of an elephant. She had Sutton partying till all hours in the morning for days on end, sniffing the uncut gear they kept for themselves. No wonder he was losing his grip. His brains were fried.

  Luca felt his mobile phone vibrate. It was a text message from a withheld number asking for an ounce. He sent a message back with his location and instructions. He was near Penrhos Beach, but not on it. He could see customers arriving without being seen himself. It was an excellent vantage point. The view from the hospital car park was ideal. His exit route was perfect too should the dibbles or a rival try to set him up. This would be his last customer of the night, and then he was going home. His missus had left him again and taken the kids. She was kicking off about him dealing, but how else did she expect him to pay the bills? He was doing his best. The mortgage was covered, Sutton was paid, and he had enough gear left to clear a few grand by the end of the month to keep her happy. She might come home if he could persuade her. He couldn’t wait to tell her that Jon Price was out.

  A vehicle pulled onto Penrhos and flashed its headlights three times. That was the signal he gave to all his clients. A hundred yards of low sand dunes lay between him and the car park, the sea to his left. He stashed his money and the rest of his stock under the driver’s seat and put an ounce down the back of his boxer shorts, which had a secret pocket stitched in them. Luca opened the door and climbed out, heading to a dark spot in the dunes. He saw his client heading towards the meeting place from the direction of Penrhos. A cigarette burnt in his hand; orange embers flickered in the wind. They reached a dip in the sand and faced each other. Luca couldn’t make out his client’s features. His mouth was covered with a facemask.

  ‘All right. How much did you say you wanted?’ Luca asked. It was a final check that this was who had messaged him. If he said anything but an ounce, the deal was off.

  There was a flash of dull steel to the left of his blind spot. Luca stepped back, but it was too late. The crowbar struck him above the left ear, splitting his skull before becoming embedded in the brain cavity. Luca fell onto the sand, twitching uncontrollably. He felt his attacker putting his foot on his back so that he could tug the bar free from his head. The pain was blinding. Lights flashed behind his eyes as the blade was tugged free. He heard a whooshing sound as the crowbar fell again. He felt a devastating crack against his neck and freezing cold air rushing into his lungs as his windpipe was severed; then he felt nothing.

  Chapter 7

  Cristy was tucked up in bed with a cup of hot chocolate and a biscuit, watching Prison Break, which seemed ironic. She was three seasons in and hooked. Jon Price was not going to ruin her binge watching. She had told her boss she would be all right to work the next day, which her mum disagreed with completely, but the world would keep spinning regardless of where Price was. Cristy wanted to carry on as normal. She had to if she were to remain sane. Hiding in her bedroom dwelling about what had happened seven years ago would do no one any good. He had broken her then and turned her into a hermit, frightened to be around other humans. She wasn’t going to let it happen again.

  Her mobile rang. The screen said it was Karen from work. She was worried when she’d called in earlier, distraught, saying she had to go home. Karen had been a friend and colleague for years, and she knew all about Price. The entire town knew, as did most of the island too. His notoriety for domestic abuse was legendary. A string of ex-girlfriends recounted the same pattern of behaviour, yet it didn’t stop him charming others into his web. In hindsight, Cristy couldn’t fathom how she became ensnared, but it didn’t matter now. She had fallen in love with a bad egg, and now she had to deal with the consequences.

  ‘Hello, Karen,’ Cristy said. ‘I’m really sorry to let everyone down.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry. You haven’t let anyone down. I can’t believe they let him out. Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine. It was just a shock. I panicked but I’ve calmed down now.’

  ‘Good. It must have been a huge shock for you. I can only imagine how scary it must be to know he’s back,’ Karen said. She seemed hesitant. ‘I don’t want to frighten you, but does he know you’re a care worker now?’

  ‘I don’t know, to be honest, why?’ The question caught her off guard a little.

  ‘Someone called me earlier and asked me if you worked here,’ Karen said. ‘I said I’d never heard of you and they hung up. It was a man, and he was local.’

  ‘It must have been him,’ Cristy said. Her heart was beating like a drum again. She felt sick to her stomach. ‘Why can’t he just leave me alone?’

  ‘If you need to take some time off, just ask,’ Karen said. ‘I will completely understand.’

  ‘I feel sick,’ Cristy said. She thought for a few seconds. ‘I’m not letting the bastard scare me into giving up my job. I’ll be in tomorrow. He’s not controlling me again.’

  ‘I could swap you and Tracey over so you can work in the nursing home and she can take the home visits for a while. At least you’ll be safe inside surrounded by other people.’

  ‘Thanks, Karen. I’d really appreciate that,’ Cristy said. ‘I’ll go straight there in the morning. Will you tell Tracey she’s got my round?’

  ‘I’m with her now,’ Karen said. ‘It was her idea. She says hi.’

  ‘Tell her hello from me and thank you. I’m really sorry about this. I was reluctant to get the police involved, but I may have to. He ruined my life once, he won’t do it again. I’m not going to let him interfere with our routines at work.’

  ‘We can be flexible until you sort him out. I wonder how he knew to call here?’ Karen asked. ‘Do you think he’s asked people about you to find out what you’re doing?’

  ‘Probably. It wouldn’t take long, would it?’ Cristy said. ‘Some of his cronies are still out there. They would know where I work. You know what town is like. Everyone knows everyone’s business. I’m sorry he’s bothered you. I feel so embarrassed about the whole thing. He’s haunting me.’

  ‘You don’t need to feel embarrassed around us. We’re your friends and we’re here for you, Cristy. We’ll help in any way we can. Men like that need their bollocks cut off and I’m quite happy to do it. Pass me the scissors and make sure they’re blunt,’ Karen said. Cristy chuckled despite being frightened. ‘That’s better. You nearly laughed.’

  ‘Nearly,’ Cristy said. ‘Thank you again and I’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘Good night, Cristy,’ Karen said. ‘Try not to worry too much. Easier said than done, but you know what I mean.’

  ‘Yes. I do. I’ll try. Good night.’

&
nbsp; Cristy lay back on the bed and took a deep breath. She was tired and frightened and angry and frustrated and a dozen other things too. She wanted to tell her mum and dad that he might have contacted work, but she couldn’t yet. There was no point in them not sleeping too. She would tell them in the morning and let her dad call Col Gallagher. It couldn’t hurt. Price was clearly not going to let her live her life. She wondered if he knew about Rowan yet. It wouldn’t stay hidden from him for long. The first questions Price would ask would be who she’d been with while he was away and who she was with now. Rowan was fit and strong and could look after himself, but Jon Price was evil. Her phone beeped. It was a text message.

  Night, night, Baby Girl. I’m thinking of you naked on your knees. You like that. See you soon. X

  Cristy reread the message. It was from a withheld number. There was only one person who called her that. Price. Another message arrived.

  You’re a total slut, but I forgive you. x

  The psychopath had her number. She felt vulnerable. Another message beeped.

  Your friend Karen at work lied to me. She’s a little liar just like you. I’m going to fuck her before I drown her.

  Cristy dropped the phone. He had reached into her safe place. Her bedroom was sacrosanct to her state of mind and emotional stability. It was a place even her mum didn’t enter. Price had violated her yet again.

  Chapter 8

  Penrhos beach was cordoned off in its entirety, angering the local dog-walking community, but they hung around anyway, waiting for the latest gossip. When Alan arrived, a black Audi was being winched onto a tow truck. Kim was waiting for him in the hospital car park. Her hair was blowing across her face in the wind. She looked cold. Alan handed her a large latte from McDonald’s and sipped on his.

  ‘I thought you would want one,’ Alan said. He needed the caffeine to seep into his system to jump start his brain. The sun was only just up, and an icy wind blew off the sea. An Irish ferry was manoeuvring around the lighthouse at the end of the breakwater, leaving a foamy white wake. ‘It’s too early for anything complicated. What have we got?’ Alan asked.