Death in the Docks

By Simon Glyndwr John

Owen Jones returns to the main Abermorfa Police Station as an Acting Detective Inspector. Owen’s new role includes his overseeing of the Special Branch unit based in the docks who police the arrival of ships and their crews particularly those from behind the Iron Curtain. An outbreak of flu in the town devastates the police leaving Owen to accept responsibilities, like complaints about police behaviour, usually tasks for the uniformed branch. Showing his ability by managing these new responsibilities plus his regular detective work Owen hopes will see his post be made permanent. What may enhance Owen’s chance of becoming a Detective Inspector will be the quick solution of the bizarre death in the docks, of a well-known Ship’s Chandler.
Owen’s home life is a battle of wits between him and his wife versus their teenage daughter. The flu affects both his wife and daughter leaving Owen baffled as he faces a problem he has never encountered before - cooking.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon Glyndwr John
• Release date: May 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005296636

Simon Glyndwr John

London born with major interest in the First World War, Sport and Wales - where I now live.London League Publications have published on Amazon in October 2015, as an ebook, 'Go North, young man.' Set 1n 1961-2 against the background of the Cold War it tells the story of a Rugby Union player in Wales who must decide whether to play as a part-time professional in Rugby League.'My novel, a mystery, 'Death And The Hunter' is available on Smashwords. Set in the 1960s in a West Welsh industrial town it introduces Detective Sergeant Owen Jones as he investigates the body of an identified man washed ashore on a local beach. Meanwhile at home he and his wife also lock horns with their rebellious teenage daughter'Death in the Docks' is my latest novel. Again set in the 1960s Owen Jones investigates deaths in the town docks. The Cold War still rages for Britain as does the Hot War for Owen and his wife against their daughter.

Book preview

DEATH IN THE DOCKS

BY

SIMON GLYNDWR JOHN

First published by Smashwords.com May 2021

Copyright © May 2021 by Simon Glyndwr John

Cover illustration: Lynn Blake John

Front Cover: Porthcawl Harbour – a painting by Lynn Blake John

Distributed by Smashwords

Ebook formatting by ebooklaunch.com

ISBN: 9781005296636

First edition

The right of Simon Glyndwr John to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This book is copyright under the Berne Convention. All rights are reserved. It is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

The events, towns, villages, and characters in this book are fictitious except the references to London, and towns in England.

Any similarity to real events, towns, villages, or characters living, or dead is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favourite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

To the memory of my Great Uncle Griffth John Griffiths drowned aged 11 in Swansea Docks. His body was retrieved from the water by Detective David Griffiths his father and my great grandfather.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank the following for their help, advice and recollections in writing this book.

Barbara Youssefi suggestions on structure.

Alun Martin evaluating the text.

John Simonson for sharing memories of life in a Welsh industrial port.

Robert Warne for his recollection on policing in a Welsh port.

Greg Williams providing direction for research.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Books by Simon Glyndwr John

About the Author

Chapter 1

The early 1960s

Owen stood up and looked at the clock. He had just about enough time to get to the bank, get back in time to have his interview with the superintendent, then go to testify in court. As he reached the office door, he realised he’d forgotten something. But what? He turned and looked at his desk and laughed to himself – his cheque book. It was in the leather case he’d been given last Christmas – a change from socks. Back he went and just as he put it in his pocket he cursed. If he’d remembered them, Owen would have been half-way out of the police-station not hearing Inspector Probert’s dulcet tones inviting Owen to join him in his cubby hole. When Owen arrived at the door Probert said Superintendent O’Brian wanted to see both of them in his office - now.

O’Brian was sitting chatting amiably to Chief Inspector Morlais Smith. O’Brian was smiling and that didn’t change when Owen and Probert entered the room. O’Brian motioned for the incomers to sit. They sat.

O’Brian dropped his voice as he continued to Smith, ‘Berlin I assume.’ He turned to Probert and Owen. ‘Glad you could both make it. I know we were going to have this meeting Owen this afternoon. However, I’ve been summoned to Abertaff for a big, big meeting. So, it’ll have to be now. Does that cause a problem?’ He looked from Probert to Owen and back to Probert.

Probert smiling, ‘Good lord, no sir.’

‘Only to my stomach, sir.’ Owen turned to look at the clock, ‘It’s lunchtime, and it likes regularity.’

O’Brian smiled as did the others a second or two later. ‘Well, it’s all to your benefit. We’ve had a call from the court. Yours and my favourite burglar, Mr John Burgess, has had his case postponed till tomorrow morning. I don’t know why.’ He looked round the room and grinned. ‘How many times has Burgess been done?’ Nobody offered a number. ‘Anybody in the room not arrested him for burglary?’ Three heads shook. ‘I think Burgess’ record goes back to when Queen Victoria was on the throne.’ The others dutifully laughed as he looked at them. When the laughter subsided, he continued, ‘Owen, there’s now plenty of time for you to have lunch in half an hour or so after we’ve finished here.’ His face darkened, ‘However, the main reason to you Sergeant Owen of this early meeting is, ‘He paused still grim, ‘About your promotion to temporary inspector.’

O’Brian breathed in loudly and looked at his desk. He shuffled some papers about. He studied them for a moment. Owen’s heart sank. ‘Congratulations Inspector Owen Jones and at the same time welcome back to the main station.’ O’Brian’s face was now wreathed in smiles as he stood and then shook Owen’s hand. The others followed suit and offered their congratulations.

‘Thank you,’ Owen spluttered to each in turn. His heart was pounding. It wasn’t quite how he’d imagined he’d hear of his promotion.

Once when they had all returned to their seats, O’Brian continued, ‘Did you enjoy your year out running your own station in Coedfawr, Owen?’

‘Really good learning experience under the expert guidance of Inspector Idwal Davies, sir.’ Idwal wasn’t a bad lad but more to the point he was O’Brian’s brother-in-law – was he being too servile.

‘Good, I’ll tell him in his glorious retirement. What made you change your mind about taking the inspector’s examination. We’ve been after you for years to take the thing?’

That was true. It was Sian, his daughter, who’d been partially to blame for his change of mind. Sian had complained that her parents, Owen and Mair, were always telling her to work hard at school and pass lots of examinations so she could have a better life than them. Why had Owen not sat the exam for inspector? If he did and passed it then not just the parents but she could have a better life now. Owen thought that meant more money to spend on clothes. Owen beamed, ‘I just thought having learnt so much since I joined the force, not just from everyone here,’ was he laying it on too much? ‘That it was my responsibility to do the same to those who follow in our job.’ Nobody laughed at those words. Wow! That’s a surprise.

‘Very commendable,’ said O’Brian pursing his lips the others nodded their agreement. ‘Mind, Owen a bigger pension will come in handy, and you’ll get a better job when you retire.’

‘The way coal, steel and tinplate production are going down sir I may have to stay here till I go out feet first.’

‘Let’s us hope that’s through old age and nothing else,’ Smith said looking stern, ‘I’m thinking of PC Billy Williams recently killed chasing a burglar on a factory roof. The pair fell off the roof the burglar survived virtually without injury.’

‘There’s no justice in this world.’

‘There will be in the next world,’ countered Smith who was a deacon in his local Baptist Chapel.’

‘I hope so,’ said O’Brian, ‘That was a bad business. Anyway, Owen as you know you’ll be on probation maybe for several months as Acting Inspector. Then, if you keep your nose clean, you’ll be made up to Inspector. I doubt you will have a problem. You’ll have Chief Inspector Probert’s old office. Move in there after lunch. Now before you go to lunch, I think the others want to give you the benefit of their experience and wisdom in your new role.’

Probert and Smith looked as though O’Brian had sprung that decision on them. Owen sat as rapt as possible at what was being said. All the two men did was give re-iterations of what they already said to him when he’d originally passed the exam a few months ago and then again when he came back to the station from Coedfawr a few days ago. Still, it gave Smith and Probert a chance to appear before O’Brian doing what was expected. All the while Owen’s stomach grumbled as it wished the two men would speak faster.

The telephone rang just as the others had seemingly come to the end of their spiel. O’Brian answered before uttering, ‘I told you no. Oh, is he – put him through. Hello sir. Yes, sir. Just telling Sergeant Jones about his promotion, sir.’ He fluttered his eyes, ‘He knows it’s probationary, sir. I told him. I think so. I’ll ask, sir,’ he put his hand over the mouthpiece, ‘You’ve done Special Branch work in the past?’ Owen nodded. ‘Yes, he has. I’ll sir.’ He put the telephone back on its hook.’

‘Chief Constable, sir?’ Smith asked despite the fact he’d heard the voice on the phone and knew exactly who it was. ‘Anything urgent?’

O’Brian shook his head. ‘Owen, you did Special Branch (SB) work when?’

‘Ten or eleven years ago, sir.’

‘With current retirements, promotions and resignations I’m taking the opportunity to do a bit of re-organisation. I’ll want you as one of your initial areas of responsibility to keep a watching brief over the SB whilst also doing your detective role.; He pulled a face. ‘There is another temporary inspector currently being made up - John Hywel John. We’ll see how you both get on and then decide who’ll fill the actual vacancy and become the permanent inspector. Sorry I misled you or implied, earlier that you were on your own for the position, the Chief just reminded me of Johnny John Hywel.’ O’Brian shook his head. ‘How I forgot that I don’t know. I apologise,’ before Owen could accept the apology, O’Brian pressed on, ‘Even if John Hywel John was to get the substantive inspector’s role following the Promotion Board’s decision, that is not the end of the line for you Owen. If we like what you’ve done, you could remain a temporary inspector till the next round of promotions where again we’d make the decision whether you become permanent. I make this clear to everyone. I told John Hywel John exactly the same the first thing this morning.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Owen replied po-faced. ‘He’d suspected that Johnny John would be in contention for the promotion.’ He also knew there was only one spot available. Now Johnny was definitely in contention his euphoria of a few minutes ago waned.

The telephone rang again. When O’Brian spoke into the mouthpiece, he was consistent in the words he used. ‘Yes, sir. No sir. I’ll tell him, sir. Thank you, sir.’

‘That’s the chief on the telephone again. He is adamant that you keep a firm grip on Special Branch Business down in the docks.’

When it was all over, Owen went to the canteen and had the last available steak and kidney pie with peas and mash potatoes – his stomach slipped into contented tranquillity. He walked quickly to the bank which caused his stomach to complain. As he arrived back at the station, he got the stitch. As he walked upstairs, holding his side, everyone he passed congratulated him. Owen could only thank everyone through clenched teeth – he hadn’t had stitch for years. Was it the portent of something serious? No. He was only in his forties and all his family lived into their sixties except the miners, of course, they never got to his current age. He moved his belongings into Probert’s old office very slowly.

Once that was done Detective Constable Ginger Moses appeared as if by magic. Moses was all smiles a) about Owen’s promotion and b) that they’d be working together again. Incapable of moving till the stitch disappeared Owen and Moses reviewed the outstanding cases. The pair agreed on how they were to move forward on them. The pair discussed acquiring another detective because Norman Davies who’d replaced Owen, when Owen went as station sergeant to Coedfawr a year and a half ago, had resigned. Both Owen and Moses knew that Norman, whom neither trusted, resigned before he was sacked for some infraction that they both knew involved money one way or another. Moses suggested a name that sounded to Owen as a good choice which he’d look into.

Owen concluded the meeting by standing up. ‘I’ve got to go down to the docks to see Graeme Morris. In my new role I’m also temporarily in charge down there.’

‘War with the Commies, sir?’

‘Constable Moses you know I can’t discuss such things with you.’ They both laughed at the thought that people like them would have any way of knowing that till it happened.

‘Weren’t you due in court today? Burgess again, wasn’t it?’

Owen pulled a face. ‘Yes. He’ll be sentenced, come out and do it all again. It’s postponed until tomorrow morning. I need to go to the docks now to find out whether Sergeant Morris has everything under control. I’ve a lot to do,’ he pointed at a stack of papers in his in-tray. ‘We’ll finish our chat tomorrow after court.’

The Special Branch (SB) office was a wooden shack on the docks not far from the Customs Building. The SB officers though based in the shack but because it was, so ram shackled whenever possible they worked in the main station. Anything important that needed to be kept in the shack was locked in a safe.

Sergeant Morris smiled when he saw Owen, arose and stood ramrod straight to attention. ‘Congratulations, sir.’ Morris emphasised the last word. ‘I gather you’re the new head man.’

Owen plonked down opposite Morris. ‘Yes.’

‘Who you up against to make the post substantive?’

‘Only John Hywel John as far as I know. He’s a good lad and his speciality is traffic. That worries me. There is a growing concern as more people have cars, so they’ll need more policing. That section will have to get bigger to cope with traffic growth.’

‘Just ask all the men you arrested over the years to commit more burglaries.’

Owen gave a wry grin. ‘I don’t think I can do that.’ His face became serious, ‘Anything going on other than the usual?’

‘No. Probably traffic is down from when you were here. Foreign ships obviously still give us more work than British ones. Russian ships remain the worst. Two of us still go on board with the Home Office lists of undesirable characters and check all their crew passports. The ship’s captain is always accompanied by what we assume is their political officer.’

‘In my day he could be a steward, the mate, or a boilerman,’ Owen looked questioningly at Morris.

‘That hasn’t changed. Nor has their attempt to get us legless by drinking that hooch they call vodka. No wonder there needs to be two of us to go there.’

Owen grimaced. ‘If anyone offers me vodka nowadays, I almost throw up just hearing that word.’ He shuddered. ‘The things we do for queen and country. When I did the Special Branch job, we always felt the Bolsheviks were trying to get their hands on our book of people of interest by getting us legless. I did the Branch job ten,’ Owen stopped whilst he thought, ‘No, twelve years ago. Where has the time gone? How much has the job changed since then?’

Morris smiled,’ As coal exports are going down fewer people are leaving the docks covered in coal dust. We can actually recognise people’s faces.’

‘Is that an advantage?’ Grinned Owen. ‘We caught a couple of Germans who were wanted in France and several very doubtful characters we sent back from whence they came. You still catch Nazis and the like, Graeme?’

‘No. Too much time has elapsed since the war’s end. Nobody is much interested in old Nazis – when we’ve got the Russians to think of.’

Owen chipped in, ‘In those days of rationing, we worked with Customs to stop booze and fags being smuggled in – though it was small amounts. What about now?’

Morris groaned out loud. ‘Nothing major. I must ask, did you find updating the book a veritable pain?’

Owen grunted, ‘Depends on what you mean by veritable. I spent half my time going through those telexes from London identifying undesirables to look out for. Then trying to remember all those names. I hope and pray that one day they’ll be a better method than sending us box after box of those damn telexes. You still put them into a book, then in a safe where not even a microbe could get in? We were threated that we’d be hanged by the neck if anything was lost.’

‘As I said everything remains the same. For example, I’ve never seen one of those Russian political officers, smile, did you?’

‘No, Graham. I mean it was obvious who they were. I bet there was another NKVD man on many ships. The Russians would know we’d keep an eye on the one we met so we reckon they’d try to sneak the unknown spy ashore if they could or if they wanted to.’

‘You’re behind the times, Owen. The NKVD is now called the KGB. Morris paused, ‘Something unusual occurred recently. We had a Russian Fishing vessel in a couple of weeks ago after that big storm. First actual fishing vessel in here in my experience. As with any Russian ship the crew were kept aboard except for one outing as a group to the market accompanied by their commissar. The boat was here for a couple of days needing a repair. Before you ask, the boat stank of fish, so it definitely wasn’t one of those so-called trawlers full of listening devices that follow our Royal Navy ships all over the ocean. The Russians try and outwit us in the west by using Vodka. I think we’re doing the same to them but by using food.’

‘Food?’ Owen looked amazed.

‘Russians have vodka by the gallon but little food. Jasper Cottle’s Ships Chandler company did some trading with the Russian trawler over the repairs it needed. I understand the Russians bartered vodka for food and for some spare parts. I wonder what the local University’s left-wing lecturers would think of their Marxist Shangri La reduced to bartering.’

‘Ignore it or claim you’re spreading propaganda. Were customs interested in that barter?’

‘No. Customs weren’t interested because it was not large volumes. I suppose live and let live would be Customs motto in this instance.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Back to the smuggling of cigarettes and spirits by crew members. It is low-key and we work with the Customs boys on that.’

‘Now beyond your work in the docks. Special Branch used to keep an eye on the ‘The Halfway House,’ pub. It was always full of Commies, Lefties and God knows what. You still do that?’

‘We call it Little Moscow now. It gets a lot of students from middle class families mixing with National Union of Miners and the Steelworkers Union members as if that will get them accepted into the working class. What I think worries me, as a parent as much as a policeman, are the schoolteachers and university lecturers who go in there. Some think those academics spout mostly hot air but they’re educating our children – leading them up the garden path to some type of Utopia.’

Owen interrupted, ‘Are they the same lecturers who run English classes for students from the German Democratic Republic (GDR) in the summer?

‘Yes. We’re told they run those lectures to bring in cash for the University. Earning money for the University is one thing pontificating about the beauties of Marx or how wonderful the GDR is – that’s disquieting.’

‘Why?’

‘I did my National Service in Germany. I saw a bit of the German Democratic Republic and it wasn’t pretty. Their police and soldiers look just like the SS and Wehrmacht resurrected.’

‘Are the West Germans any better? Doesn’t Adenauer have ex-Nazis in his government for example General Adolf Heusinger. Adolf is head not just of the German army but the NATO forces as well. It appears Herr Heusinger made some questionable decisions in the Ukraine during the war, which the Russians would like to revisit with him.’

‘Owen, he was in the planning department. He was one of those injured in that bomb blast that should have killed Hitler. The Gestapo thought Heusinger was involved in the plot itself but didn’t have enough to link him to it. After the war he claimed he was part of the anti-Hitler plot. Doubt has been