Deadly Vengeance: A gripping crime thriller full of twists and turns (Detective Jane Phillips Book 3)

by OMJ Ryan

  ‘Yeah. We may as well head over there now. Although something tells me that, by the time we get there, Shelley Hamilton will be expecting us.’

  Bovalino chuckled again. ‘Yeah. I’d put your money on it, Jonesy.’

  20

  Phillips walked back towards her office from the small kitchen situated at the end of the incident room. She held a cup of instant coffee in her hand as she approached Entwistle. ‘How you getting on with Donald’s finances?’

  Entwistle blew out his lips and tapped the screen on his laptop with his pen. ‘This guy is up to his eyeballs in debt, Guv.’

  Phillips leaned in to get a closer look.

  Just then, Jones and Bovalino walked in.

  ‘Here they come, Bonnie and Clyde,’ joked Entwistle.

  Phillips chuckled and stood upright as they approached. ‘So, how was Mr Donald?’

  ‘A grade-A wanker, boss,’ said Bovalino.

  ‘Really? I am surprised,’ Phillips replied sarcastically as she took a mouthful of coffee.

  ‘He has an alibi, Guv,’ said Jones, ‘but, conveniently, it’s his girlfriend. We’ve just been to see her at work, and she backs up his story. The night Hollie was taken, she claims she went to Donald’s apartment straight from work. He cooked, they drank, watched a movie, and went to bed.’

  ‘And do you believe either of them?’

  Jones pursed his lips for a long moment before responding. ‘In all honesty, no. That said, I’m not sure they were involved in the kidnapping either. But there’s definitely something about the pair of them that I don’t like.’

  ‘And she’s way too hot for a guy like him, Guv,’ Bovalino chimed in. ‘She’s a petite, dark-skinned goddess. And, well, he’s just a prick with lots of cash.’

  Entwistle shook his head. ‘More like a prick with lots of debt. He’s up shit creek without a paddle at the moment.’

  Jones raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? He certainly doesn’t live like that. You should see the place – a huge penthouse overlooking the water – it’s like something out of that movie, Wall Street.’

  ‘And you’re right,’ said Entwistle. ‘They’re both lying. Unless, of course, someone used his car that night – or it was stolen.’

  Phillips’s interest was piqued. ‘Why do you say that?’

  Entwistle passed a document over to Phillips, which contained a number of CCTV photos. ‘These were taken from the ANPR cameras on Ashton Old Road, at 7.30 p.m. on the 31st of October. That’s Donald’s car.’ He pointed with his pen.

  Jones craned his neck to see the images. ‘I knew they were bloody lying.’

  Entwistle passed over another printed picture. ‘This is CCTV footage taken from one of the fixed road cameras outside the Northern Snooker Centre in Openshaw.’

  Phillips examined the printout. ‘There’s Donald’s car again.’

  ‘And guess who happens to be the owner of the Northern Snooker Centre?’ said Entwistle.

  ‘Go on,’ said Phillips.

  Entwistle flashed a wide grin. ‘The wife of Manchester’s most elusive gangster, Adders Bahmani.’

  Phillips eyes widened. ‘You’re bloody kidding me!’

  ‘I am not, Guv,’ said Entwistle, and pointed at the picture once more. ‘Look. The car next to Donald’s belongs to Bahmani. I’ve checked the DVLA database.’

  Bovalino moved round to stand beside Phillips. ‘Can I see that?’

  Phillips passed him the image.

  ‘Entwistle’s right,’ said Bovalino nodding ‘A white Range Rover. I remember seeing it at Bahmani’s yard. It was there when we questioned him about the canal murders case. It’s a great big thing with blacked-out windows’

  ‘So what the hell is Donald doing hanging around with a gangster like Adders Bahmani?’ said Phillips.

  Jones shrugged his shoulders. ‘Could he be behind the kidnapping?’

  Phillips chewed her lip for a moment as she considered that as an option. ‘It seems a bit high-profile for a slug like Bahmani. He usually prefers to stay in the shadows. Having said that, he’s certainly capable of kidnap. Sex Crimes and Trafficking have been after him for years on suspicion of kidnapping young girls from Eastern Europe.’

  ‘Yeah, but he puts those girls to work on the streets, Guv,’ said Jones. ‘Whoever took Hollie wants four million quid to give her back.’

  Phillips nodded softly. ‘Good point.’

  ‘I do have another theory, Guv,’ said Entwistle.

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘Bahmani could be Donald’s business partner.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Phillips.

  ‘Well. Having looked into his records, in the last twelve months Donald has been refused finance by every major bank in the city. He wanted money for a development project he’s been trying to get off the ground near the airport – a hotel and leisure complex. He then tried the smaller banks, but they turned him down too. It seems that, after the public lawsuit he and Hawkins got themselves into, he’s considered a big risk. As of today, Gerry Donald is in debt, and I mean serious debt.’

  ‘How much?’ asked Jones.

  ‘Just shy of one million, sterling.’

  Bovalino whistled. ‘Wow.’

  Entwistle continued, ‘On paper, Bahmani owns very little, as we know. Every business he’s involved in is registered in his wife’s name. But, talking to one of the guys in Sex Crimes earlier today, they believe he’s super cash-rich. Maybe Donald wants him to finance the development deal?’

  ‘That’s a very dangerous game to be playing if he does,’ said Jones. ‘Bahmani’s hardcore. If things go south in a deal with him, he won’t just walk away like Hawkins did. He’ll make sure Donald ends up in the development, if you know what I mean.’

  Phillips nodded.

  At that moment, PC Lawford approached, looking a little sheepish. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt Ma’am, but Chief Superintendent Fox has just called.’

  ‘And you spoke to her?’

  ‘Yes, Ma’am. The phone in your office has been ringing off the hook for the last five minutes, so I picked it up from my extension.’

  ‘And what did Fox say, exactly?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘She wants to see you right away, Ma’am. In her office.’

  Phillips rolled her eyes. ‘Ok. Thank you, Lawford.’ She turned back to the team. ‘Right, guys. Finding the link between Donald and Bahmani is our new priority. See what you can find as a matter of urgency.’

  Each of the men nodded.

  ‘In the meantime, I’d better go and find out what our beloved leader wants.’

  21

  Fox’s personal assistant, Ms Blair, knocked on the door to the chief super’s office, then waited. A moment later, Fox shouted, ‘Come!’

  Blair opened the door and ushered Phillips inside.

  Fox sat typing into her PC at her desk. She didn’t look up or acknowledge Phillips, who took a seat without being asked.

  When her task was complete, Fox turned to face Phillips. Her expression was grave as she peered over her spectacles. ‘What the hell is going on, Phillips?’

  Phillips recoiled slightly, in her chair. ‘I’m sorry, Ma’am?’

  ‘DCI Saxby informs me that Sir Richard is less than impressed with the progress MCU has made on finding his daughter. It’s three days since we received the ransom demand and we have nothing to go on.’

  Phillips’s brow furrowed. ‘I must have missed a meeting. Are we reporting to Sir Richard now?’

  ‘Don’t be facetious,’ said Fox. ‘You know full well how connected he is. He’s been on the phone to the chief constable, raging about how incompetent we all are.’

  Phillips shook her head. ‘Bloody Saxby’s been stirring the pot again.’

  ‘That may very well be the case, but the truth of the matter is, Sir Richard’s daughter’s been missing for four days now and we’re still no closer to finding her. Has there been any further contact from the kidnappers?’

  ‘No, Ma’am. Nothin
g.’

  Fox let out a loud sigh. ‘This investigation is going nowhere fast. You don’t need me to tell you, it doesn’t look good for MCU, Phillips.’

  ‘I know, Ma’am. And I was sure Sam Cartwright was the connection to the gang, but whatever she knew died with her.’

  ‘You’re referring to the junkie found dead the other day?’

  ‘Yes, Ma’am.’

  Fox let out a loud sigh and leaned back in her chair. ‘Well, as you say. Whatever this Cartwright woman did, or didn’t, do, we’ll never know, now. She’s dead. So it’s time to move on from that one.’

  ‘I hear what you’re saying, Ma’am, but with your permission, I’d like to canvass her neighbours and see if they saw anything suspicious the night she died. We had planned to do it the day we found her body, but you told us it was a waste of time.’

  ‘And I’m telling you the same thing now. Cartwright was a junkie who died of an overdose. We will not be wasting any more time investigating her death. I want all your energies focused on finding the girl.’

  Phillips knew there was no point arguing.

  ‘So, what else have you got to go on?’ said Fox.

  ‘Well, Ma’am. It looks like Hollie’s uncle – Sandra Hawkins’s brother – Gerry Donald, could be a person of interest,’ said Phillips.

  ‘Really? How so?’

  ‘He’s in serious debt. Almost a million pounds.’

  Fox’s eyes widened. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Entwistle has been digging into his finances, and it turns out he and Hawkins were in business together, on a deal that went south. Hawkins pulled the plug and cut his losses – easy to do when you’re worth millions. Not so for Donald, who lost everything. His financial situation, and the fact he blames Hawkins for it, means he has motive. Plus, he lied about his whereabouts on the night Hollie was taken. He says he was at home with his girlfriend, but we’ve tracked his car to a snooker club in Openshaw.’

  ‘An interesting development indeed.’

  Phillips sat forwards now. ‘What’s even more interesting is the fact the snooker club is registered to the wife of Adders Bahmani.’

  Fox’s eyes appeared to glisten. ‘Bahmani could be involved?’

  ‘It’s possible, yes. But then again, it’s not his usual caper. It seems quite high-profile for a man used to operating in Manchester’s underbelly.’

  Fox appeared excited now. ‘Well, well, well. If we could finally nick that reptile, it’d be a feather in MCU’s cap, for sure. And Chief Constable Morris would be royally pissed off it was my team that nicked him. Every copper in Manchester knows Bahmani’s crooked, but no one’s been able to prove anything despite years of trying.’

  ‘If you’re in agreement, Ma’am, I’d like to search Donald’s home,’ said Phillips, ‘see if we can find anything that could lead us to Hollie.’

  Fox nodded eagerly. ‘Of course. Based on the danger to life, and the fact he lied about his alibi, you should have no issues with the search warrant.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll sort the paperwork and we’ll go in at dawn.’

  ‘Excellent. I want a full debrief as soon as the raid’s complete,’ said Fox.

  ‘Yes, Ma’am,’ said Phillips, and stood. ‘I’d better get back downstairs and brief the team.’

  Fox appeared lost in her own thoughts now as she shooed Phillips away. ‘Adders-Bloody-Bahmani,’ she muttered under breath, and her Cheshire Cat grin reappeared. ‘We might finally have got you,’ she added, as Phillips left the room.

  22

  November 5th

  Presented with the warrant to search Donald’s apartment, the overnight concierge had no choice but to allow Phillips and the team access to the elevator. As instructed, there was no call ahead, and a uniformed officer remained in reception to ensure this instruction was strictly adhered to.

  As Phillips, Jones, Bovalino, Entwistle, and a number of uniformed officers gathered in the cramped hallway outside Donald’s penthouse, Phillips checked her watch; it was 5.30 a.m. Jones and Bovalino had explained the layout of the apartment, in detail, during the briefing just over an hour ago. The plan was that she and Bovalino would take the bedrooms, whilst Jones, Entwistle and the uniformed team would take downstairs.

  Phillips ensured her stab vest was secured in place, then whispered final instructions. She gave the uniformed officers the green light. The heavy metal battering ram slammed into the wooden frame, and the door burst open at the first attempt. Phillips led the team inside and rushed towards the staircase.

  The apartment was cavernous. By the time Phillips reached the top of the stairs – with Bovalino in tow – Donald stumbled out of his bedroom, having clearly been woken by the noise. He wore pyjamas, and his hair was dishevelled, eyes puffy.

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ he shouted, an incredulous look on his face.

  Phillips flashed her ID. ‘DCI Phillips, from the Major Crimes Team.’ She handed him a copy of the warrant, ‘We have authority to search these premises in relation to the disappearance of Hollie Hawkins.’

  ‘You’ve gotta be joking!’ said Donald. Phillips pushed passed him and headed for his bedroom. Donald followed her. ‘Look, I told your officers the other day, I haven’t seen my niece for almost two years. I didn’t bloody kidnap her!’

  Phillips turned to face him and looked him dead in the eye. ‘Are you alone, Mr Donald?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I am.’

  ‘So no one else is in the apartment?’

  ‘What? Apart from ten tooled-up coppers, you mean?’ said Donald, in a sarcastic tone.

  Phillips scanned the room. ‘Your girlfriend, Shelley Hamilton. She’s a regular visitor, isn’t she?’

  Donald dropped onto the end of the bed. ‘Sometimes, yes. But not tonight. Tonight I’m all alone, as my bed will testify.’ He waved his arm across the enormous mattress, which did indeed appear to have been slept in by just one person.

  ‘Can I have your phone, please?’ said Phillips.

  ‘What?’

  Phillips took a step closer and held out her hand. ‘Your phone. Where is it?’

  Donald ran his fingers through his matted hair. ‘Why do you need my phone?’

  Phillips was in no mood to explain every detail of the search. ‘Read the warrant. It explains the scope of what we can, and can’t, have access to. If you do, you’ll see your phone now belongs to me. Hand it over.’

  With some obvious reluctance, Donald stood up from the bed and retrieved his iPhone from his bedside cabinet. He handed it to Phillips.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Phillips with a thin smile. ‘Bov, can you escort Mr Donald downstairs and have one of the uniformed team sit with him, out of the way?’

  ‘Yes, Guv.’ Bovalino stepped forwards and locked his thick hand around Donald’s bicep. ‘This way, sir,’ he said, and yanked him out of the room.

  A few minutes later, when Bovalino returned, Phillips had already begun her search. With hands protected by latex gloves, she was rummaging through his sock drawer.

  ‘I’ve left him with PC Lawford, Guv.’

  ‘Good,’ Phillips said, without turning round. ‘You can start in the en suite.’

  Bovalino headed into the en suite and started his search. For the next twenty minutes, Phillips checked every drawer, cabinet and hanging rail in the room, but came up with nothing. After a thorough search of the space under his bed, she stopped to take a breath and scrutinised the room. ‘What are you hiding, Donald?’ she whispered.

  At that moment, Bovalino reappeared from the en suite. Phillips could tell by the look of disappointment on his face that he’d had no luck either.

  He shrugged. ‘Sorry, Guv. Nothing in there.’

  Phillips let out a frustrated sigh. ‘Nothing in here, either. Let’s check the next bedroom.’ She got to her feet.

  Bovalino nodded, and followed her through to the second bedroom.

  As Phillips opened the large wardrobe doors, a voice from downstairs shouted, ‘Guv!’

>   She stopped what she was doing and walked out onto the mezzanine balcony to peer over the rail.

  It was Jones, who stood looking up at her. ‘You’d better come and see this.’

  Phillips instructed Bovalino to continue his search, then headed downstairs to where Jones was stood waiting. As she moved closer, he leaned in and whispered – so Donald couldn’t hear – ‘I think we might have found the link to Bahmani.’

  Phillips raised an eyebrow.

  ‘It’s in the downstairs toilet.’

  Phillips followed Jones into the surprisingly large WC. Entwistle stood in front of a mirrored wall, holding a large object covered in foil. He presented it to her as she moved closer.

  ‘Looks like heroin, Guv,’ Jones said. ‘We removed the side panels on the bath and found it taped to the underside of the tub. Entwistle is just about to run a mobile test on it.’

  Phillips took a closer look. It did indeed look like a large pack of uncut heroin, probably about two kilos. She allowed a wide grin to spread across her face. ‘Who’s been a naughty boy, then?’

  Just then, one of the uniformed team knocked on the toilet door. ‘Ma’am, have you got a second?’

  A moment later, Phillips entered the utility room, where Donald kept his washing machine and other laundry paraphernalia.

  ‘I found it down here, behind the washing machine,’ said the officer, who took a knee and pointed his finger at a black leather bag lying on the floor against the wall.

  Phillips knelt next to him and opened the bag with a gloved finger. Inside were bundles of twenty-pound notes. ‘Jesus. There must be fifty grand in here,’ she said. She picked up the bag and got back to her feet. ‘Let’s see what he has to say about this lot.’

  Phillips strode into the lounge area where Donald sat, with PC Lawford keeping a watchful eye on him. She dropped the bag on the glass coffee table and opened it wide enough for him to see some of the notes poking out. ‘Where did you get this?’

  Donald’s eyes darted in the direction of the money, then back to Phillips. ‘I’ve never seen that before.’