The Mostyn Strangler

 

My name is Ken Frane, I am known as the last of the Cardiff Docks’ Detectives. Terry Heston and I were the last police officers to leave the old Butetown police station before it was demolished. The Cardiff Bay police now inhabit the spot with a lighthouse outside as an art installation. You might be of an age to remember the Lynne Black case of the late 1980s where there was a huge miscarriage of justice, well myself and Detective Heston fell the wrong side of the internal investigation so after doing various jobs unrelated to policing just for a rest and change more than anything we decided to set up a Private Detective Agency together on our old patch. It is an office above a Massage Parlour just off James Street, Butetown.

Frane spreads an OS map of the area out beside his plate. A splat of brown sauce alighting upon the town of Hollywell where he was now sitting. Just as he is focusing on the different towns and villages his mobile phone goes off.“For fuck’s sake, there is no peace to be had” “Ken, it’s Terry” “Yes Terry?” Frane swallows a sigh “There are some right double headers in Cardiff mate, some right double headers” “What’s happened mate?” “One minute you think they are on your side, the next, they’ve done the dirty on you” “I’m having me breakfast Terry; can I ring you back after I’ve finished?” “Relapsed Ken didn’t I, ended up going into a bookies”

Frane inhaled the estuary air as he was back beside the Dee. The local police were not being very forthcoming, in fact,since the Snake of Splott affair, word had gone out from Cardiff for forces not to engage him or entertain him in anyway whatsoever. He had been black balled by the Bizzies. He was getting information from local reporters and journalists who had been told by Craig Standish to give the old man any and all help and assistance he required. 

“Well, I was returning from the Dining Room and I looked up the corridor towards the kitchen and there was a figure standing there looking at me, a shapeless figure, I couldn’t tell whether it was a woman or a man. I could smell the River Dee. There was a smell of the foreshore and then the eyes on the figure turned red and I fell to my knees and screamed. In all my years here, Reginald in all our years I have never, ever seen anything like it.”