Deadly Betrayal: A gripping crime thriller full of mystery and suspense (Detective Jane Phillips Book 4)

by OMJ Ryan

  Earlier that afternoon, he had called Phillips on her mobile. Based on his reputation for always being first to the big stories – not to mention her own experiences with him – she had fully expected a barrage of questions regarding Victoria Carpenter’s death. Instead, the complete opposite had happened. Sounding quiet and withdrawn, he’d admitted he did want to talk about Carpenter’s death, but not to get the scoop; rather, that he had information about her murder that he felt Phillips needed to hear. If Don Townsend wanted to share information, it had to be worth hearing.

  As Phillips waited for him to arrive, she checked Facebook on her iPhone. Since connecting with her ex-boyfriend from Hong Kong, Dan Lawry, through it late the previous year, she had started to post and share content on her page semi-regularly – but only a very small group of connections, which included Jones, Bov and Entwistle. She still couldn’t make up her mind whether it was acceptable or foolish to be Facebook friends with your direct reports, so was always careful with what she posted.

  Scrolling through her feed, she saw yet another post from Entwistle. She marvelled at his ability to plough through mountains of digital data during the day, and still have the energy to share funny videos, pictures and memes in the evening. Next up was a post from her niece, Grace – her brother’s eldest, who he often described as ‘fifteen going on thirty’. Her birthday was coming up in a week’s time, and Phillips had no idea what to get her. Grace was a girly-girl who loved makeup and the latest fashion trends – in other words, her complete opposite. Phillips smiled at Grace’s pout in the selfie, which had clearly been taken in her bedroom. She chuckled when she found herself trying to imitate the picture, puckering her lips and tilting her head to one side.

  ‘You look like you’re having a stroke,’ said a deep male voice from above her head.

  Phillips recoiled and blushed as she cast her eyes up towards a dour-looking Don Townsend. ‘Sorry,’ she said, closed the app and placed her phone face-down on the table.

  Townsend, holding a pint of Guinness in his right hand, took a seat. His tanned face carried a thickly wrinkled brow, and his gelled-back dark hair gave him the appearance of an American TV show gangster. ‘Thanks for agreeing to meet with me, Jane,’ he said, his voice low.

  ‘I must admit I was intrigued, Don. It’s not like you to give me information, is it? It’s usually the other way round.’

  Townsend took a long drink from the Guinness, and wiped his top lip as he set it down. ‘I’ll get straight to the point.’

  Phillips folded her arms. ‘Ok.’

  ‘You’re leading the investigation into Victoria Carpenter’s death, right?’

  ‘I am.’

  Townsend scanned the surrounding tables, as if checking to see if anyone was listening, then looked back at her. ‘Well, I’m certain she was murdered.’

  Phillips nodded. ‘Yeah, you said that on the phone earlier. What makes you so certain?’

  ‘Because I know who did it.’

  Phillips raised an eyebrow. ‘And who might that be?’

  ‘Her husband, Aaron.’

  ‘And why do you think that?’

  ‘Because he threatened to kill her a few months ago.’

  ‘Says who?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘Says me, and said Vicky.’

  Phillips’s ears pricked up. ‘Vicky? You knew her as Vicky, as opposed to Victoria?’

  ‘Yes.’ His shoulders suddenly sagged.

  ‘Just how well did you know Victoria Carpenter, Don?’

  Townsend took a moment to reply. ‘Very well.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘We were in love.’ His eyes glistened. He was clearly fighting back tears.

  Shocked, Phillips pushed an imaginary wisp of hair behind her ear. She had never pictured a man like Townsend ever uttering those words. They just didn’t suit him. ‘As in, you were having an affair?’

  Townsend nodded. ‘That makes it sound sordid, but yes.’

  ‘How long for?’

  ‘Just under a year. We met at a charity function and hit it off immediately. We swapped numbers on the night, and I genuinely never expected to hear from her again. I mean, she was ten years younger than me and gorgeous, and, well, I’m…’ His words tailed off as he tapped his bulging belly.

  ‘So, had Aaron found out about you two?’

  Townsend took another drink. ‘Yeah. He must have had his suspicions, because he went through her phone one night when she was asleep. He found text messages I’d sent, telling her how much I loved her and wanted to be with her. The crazy bastard even called me in the middle of the night to confront me!’

  ‘And then what happened?’

  ‘I hung up, of course, and tried to call Vicky, but she didn’t answer. Apparently, when I ended the call, he made his way into the bedroom and started screaming at her. She didn’t deny it, and under pressure she told him who I was – and where I lived. Why she ever thought that was a good idea, I’ll never know. He went ballistic, jumped in his car and raced over to my house in the early hours of the morning. Vicky called me to warn me, and the next thing I knew, there was a brick through my front door. I went outside onto the drive to try and calm him down, only to find he’d scratched the word “cunt” across my white garage door with his keys. That pissed me off, so I told him to grow up. Then he took a swing at me. I ducked out of the way and ran back inside before Vicky showed up and persuaded him to go home with her.’

  ‘And was that the end of it?’

  ‘No. According to Vicky, when they got home and she managed to speak to him, he told her that she had to stop seeing me. And that if she didn’t, he’d kill her, and then he’d kill me.’

  ‘Did she believe him?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘Considering the fact he was holding a 12-inch carving knife in his hand at the time, yes, I’d say she did.’

  Phillips took a sip of her own drink. ‘Look, Don. We both know people make threats to kill their partners every day. That doesn’t mean they actually go through with it.’

  ‘True,’ said Townsend, ‘but the fact is, we didn’t stop seeing each other. Not completely.’

  ‘So the affair continued?’

  ‘After a short break, yes. Deep down she still had feelings for Aaron and wanted to make a go of it, but that didn’t last long. Neither of us could bear to be apart, so we started seeing each other again. But as far as Aaron was concerned, Vicky was committed to their marriage.’

  ‘But she wasn’t?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘No. Once she realised she only wanted to be with me, she took legal advice from a solicitor. Once we were ready, and her finances were all in order, she was going to file for divorce and move in with me.’

  ‘I’m guessing he found out about you two again, then?’

  ‘Yes, he did,’ said Townsend. ‘Apparently he got an anonymous call one night from a woman who told him we were still having an affair, then hung up.’

  ‘Really? That’s a bit Machiavellian, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s what we thought.’

  ‘Any ideas who might have made that call?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘None. We wracked our brains, but couldn’t think of anyone who would benefit from doing it.’

  Phillips took a moment to think. ‘Look, Don. I get the whole jilted husband, and the attack on you and your house in the heat of the moment, but I’m not sure that translates into Aaron Carpenter strangling his wife and making it look like a suicide.’

  ‘But who would want her dead other than Aaron?’

  ‘I don’t know. I mean, was she sick?’

  Townsend’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head. ‘No. Why do you ask?’

  Phillips chose her words carefully. ‘I have to consider all possibilities, and that includes the fact that she may have died from assisted suicide, Don.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Townsend scoffed. ‘She had absolutely no reason to want to kill herself. She had everything to live for. We were going to start a new life, mayb
e even a family.’

  Phillips felt a pang of sorrow, knowing Vicky had been carrying an unborn child. Now wasn’t the right moment to bring it up, so she blocked it out of her mind. ‘What about work?

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Were there any issues at work she may have been keeping from you? They can soon build up for people,’ said Phillips.

  ‘Vicky loved her work. She lived for it, in fact. I mean, sure, she had some challenges with the politics of working in the public sector, but she accepted that as an occupational hazard.’

  Phillips’s mind was drawn to Fox. ‘I know the feeling.’

  ‘Seriously, Jane, it wasn’t work. She was totally dedicated to the job. Especially just recently, with the proposed St John’s Towers Development decision looming.’

  ‘St John’s what?’

  ‘Towers Development.’

  ‘That’s news to me. What is it?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘It’s a twin-tower development of commercial and residential units. The proposed site is where St John’s Gardens and Tranquil Park currently sit, just off Deansgate.’

  ‘Really? I would have thought that place was green belt and protected from developers.’

  ‘It is,’ said Townsend eagerly, ‘but it’s worth £700 million to the development company, and would bring in thousands of jobs to the city. A lot of people inside the Town Hall want the area rezoned so the development can get the green light.’

  ‘Was Vicky one of those people?’

  ‘No fucking way. She was totally against it. That’s why she was working so many hours lately. She had teamed up with local conservationists and protest groups to help them stave off the development through the courts.’

  Phillips frowned. ‘So, how was she able to do that without upsetting her bosses in the Town Hall?’

  ‘Very carefully. It was all done on the QT, and I helped where I could. She did all the background work that demonstrated how the development went against various planning laws and regulations. Then I met with the groups and their key members to pass on the information, which they used to block the proposed changes each time they returned to the Planning Department.’

  ‘So her bosses had no idea what she was doing?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of, no,’ said Townsend, taking another drink from his glass.

  Now Phillips had reached the point in the conversation she had been dreading. She shifted in her seat and fiddled with her glass as she prepared to change tack. ‘Don, I’m sorry to have to ask you this…’

  ‘Ask me what?’

  ‘Did Vicky like rough sex, at all?’

  Townsend swallowed hard and closed his eyes momentarily. ‘What makes you ask that?’

  ‘Just something in the post mortem. It might be nothing, but it could be something.’

  Townsend remained silent, his eyes fixed on Phillips, then nodded softly. ‘Yes, she did.’

  ‘How rough?’

  ‘Rougher than I’d done it before I met her.’

  ‘Did she ever scratch your back during sex?’

  ‘Occasionally,’ said Townsend.

  ‘So, when was the last time you slept together?’

  ‘The evening she died.’

  ‘And what time was that?’ asked Phillips.

  Townsend appeared deep in thought for a moment before he answered. ‘Aaron left for the cricket at about 6.30 p.m., and I was waiting round the corner from her house. She called me and I rushed round. We’d not seen each other for about a week, so we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.’

  ‘Did she scratch your back on that occasion?’

  ‘Not that I can remember, but to be fair it was all over pretty quickly. We never even made it to the bedroom.’

  Phillips took a sip of her drink. ‘And what time did you leave?’

  ‘About 7.15 p.m. I had a story to follow up on and she had a pile of work to get through. It was only meant to be a quickie. I could never have imagined it would be the last time I’d ever see her.’

  Knowing what she was about to ask next, Phillips took a long, silent breath, then let it out and made a conscious effort to soften her voice. ‘Don, did you know Vicky was pregnant?’

  Townsend didn’t react at first. Instead, he just stared at Phillips’s face. Eventually he broke down, dropping his chin to his chest as he closed his eyes tightly. After a long moment, he lifted his head. A single tear fell down his cheek.

  ‘It might not have been yours,’ Phillips said, reaching out to touch his hand. ‘It could have been Aaron’s.’

  Townsend straightened his posture and took a deep breath in through his nose. ‘How far gone was she?’

  ‘Four weeks.’

  ‘It was mine,’ he said with confidence. ‘She told me they’d not had sex since he first found out about us. Aaron was struggling with that side of things.’

  ‘Oh Don, I’m so sorry.’

  Townsend forced a weak smile. ‘Don’t worry about me,’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘I’ll get over it.’ Another tear streamed down his cheek.

  Phillips pulled her hand back and picked up her phone. ‘Do you really think it was Aaron Carpenter who killed Vicky? Or is he just an easy target for you?’

  Townsend rubbed his hands down his face, causing his cheeks to redden. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Jane. I really don’t. All I can say for sure is that it wasn’t suicide in any way shape or form. She just wouldn’t do that. No way.’

  ‘Ok, Don, I hear you. Look. Because you and Vicky were intimate the night she died, I’m going to need to take some DNA. You know how these things work. It’s purely for elimination purposes.’

  ‘I get it,’ said Townsend, and nodded once.

  ‘You can either come to Ashton House tomorrow, or I can take some tonight?’

  Townsend’s eyes widened. ‘Tonight? Where?’

  ‘In the car park. I have a mobile sample kit in the car. It’s up to you, mate.’

  Townsend wiped his damp cheeks with his sleeve and drained the remainder of his pint. ‘Let’s do it now. Ashton House has way too many nosey bastards who’ll try to find out what I’m doing there.’

  Phillips smiled softly. ‘You know it well, then?’

  Townsend nodded as Phillips stood up to leave.

  ‘Look, Jane,’ he said from his seat. When he looked at her, his eyes, surrounded by dark shadows, were filled with sadness. ‘God knows you don’t owe me any favours, but promise me you’ll find out who did kill Vicky.’

  Phillips smiled softly. ‘I’ll do everything I can, Don. I can promise you that.’

  Townsend stood up now, his tall frame almost dwarfing Phillips’s.

  ‘You ready?’

  ‘Yeah. Let’s get it over with. I just wanna go home, now.’

  6

  The following morning, when Jones, Bovalino and Entwistle filed into the offices of the Major Crimes Unit at Ashton House, Phillips shared Don Townsend’s surprising revelations from the previous evening.

  A couple of hours later, at 11 a.m., she and Jones arrived at the Carpenters’ Withington home to hear Aaron’s version of events from the night he threatened to kill his wife.

  After a few minutes of constant bell ringing from Jones, an unshaven Carpenter finally answered the front door. Wearing sports shorts and a T-shirt, and staring at them with bloodshot eyes, he led them into the open-plan kitchen, where he took a seat at the breakfast table. He reeked of booze and, as Phillips cast a cursory glance at the array of empty whiskey bottles perched on the kitchen bench, it was clear he’d been drinking heavily.

  ‘Do you mind if we sit?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘Do what you like,’ Carpenter replied without conviction.

  Once seated, Jones took out his notepad and Phillips took the lead. ‘How are you holding up, Aaron?’

  ‘Peachy,’ he replied, his tone sarcastic.

  ‘Are you feeling up to answering a few questions about Victoria?’

  ‘Have I got any choice?’

 
Phillips glanced at Jones, then forced a thin smile as she locked eyes with Carpenter. ‘I promise it won’t take long.’

  Carpenter nodded.

  ‘Look. I’m sorry to have to ask this, but I’m afraid I must. Is it true your wife was having an affair?’

  Carpenter’s jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. ‘How do you know about that?’

  ‘We’re detectives, Mr Carpenter. It’s what we do.’

  Carpenter breathed heavily, then raised his chin. ‘She told me it was all over, but they were still at it behind my back.’

  ‘When did she tell you it was over?’

  ‘About three months back, when I first found out about it.’

  ‘And how did you discover the affair?’ asked Phillips.

  Carpenter looked at the table for a long moment. ‘It was something she said in bed one night. It got me thinking.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘That she “didn’t deserve me.”’

  Phillips frowned. ‘That seems a fairly innocuous statement.’

  ‘Maybe so, but for some reason it stuck in my head. She’d been a bit distant and working late a lot at the time, so at first I figured she was referring to that. But when I mentioned it to a mate of mine who I go to the cricket with, he jokingly said that maybe she was having an affair. He reckoned he’d said the same thing to an ex-girlfriend he’d cheated on when he was feeling a bit guilty. He was just having a laugh at the time, but it rankled me and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. Then, with that thought in the background, for the next week or so it did start to look to me like she was having an affair: text messages at all times of night, going into the garden to take so-called work calls, and making excuses as to why she had to work late. So one night, when I couldn’t sleep for thinking about it, I brought her phone down here to the kitchen and had a look through her messages. That’s when I found them from that slimy cunt Townsend.’

  ‘Did you know who he was at the time?’