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

by OMJ Ryan

  Townsend remained silent on the other end of the line for a moment. When he finally spoke, he sounded resigned. ‘Whatever you say, Jane.’

  Phillips hoped he would do as she asked, but, knowing Don Townsend as she did, she wasn’t convinced he could stay away from the case even if he wanted to.

  ‘I’ll be in touch, Don’ said Phillips, and ended the call.

  ‘What’s he saying, Guv?’ asked Jones.

  ‘What we’re thinking. That Jennings is lying about Carpenter’s view on the St John’s Towers Development.’

  ‘So what now?’

  ‘Now, Jonesy? Now we need to find out why, because I’m pretty sure that when we do, we’ll find out why Carpenter was killed.’

  ‘Back to Ashton House, then?’

  Phillips nodded, opened the car door and jumped into the passenger seat.

  A moment later, they were making their way back to headquarters.

  8

  A couple of hours later, back in the offices of the Major Crimes Unit, Jones, Bovalino and Entwistle eagerly opened the hot cardboard boxes of freshly delivered Chinese food.

  ‘What’s yours, Bov?’ asked Jones, peering into one of the containers as Phillips emerged from her office.

  ‘Singapore chow mein with a double portion of chips and some salt and pepper ribs.’

  ‘It’s a good job Fox is relaxed about the budget on this case,’ said Phillips with a warm smile. ‘We need most of it just to feed Bov.’

  The big Italian grinned as Jones passed over three large boxes of steaming food. She’d asked the team to work late to try and get ahead on the case, and as a thank you had ordered in dinner. Like most hungry men presented with food, there was an initial flurry of movement as they each went in search of their quarry before a contented calm descended and they began to fill their bellies. Phillips chuckled to herself as she picked up her special fried rice, a pair of chopsticks and a diet coke, then headed back to her desk.

  She had not realised how hungry she was, and it wasn’t long before she had reached the bottom of the box and drained the can. A satisfied belch exploded from her mouth, drawing looks and grins from each of the team outside.

  ‘Did you enjoy that, Guv?’ said Jones.

  ‘Just a bit,’ said Phillips, laughing.

  At that moment, Phillips’s iPhone began to vibrate on the desk next to her. Chakrabortty. Phillips wiped her mouth and hit the green answer icon on the screen. ‘Tan?’

  ‘Sorry to call you so late, Jane,’ said Chakrabortty, ‘but I thought you’d want to hear this.’

  ‘Hear what?’ said Phillips, noting the time on her laptop: 8.18 p.m.

  ‘The DNA results are back from the lab. We have a match on the skin sample.’

  A shot of adrenaline coursed through Phillips’s body as her pulse quickened. ‘Who?’

  ‘The name’s Jimmy Wong.’

  ‘Jimmy who?’

  ‘Wong. He’s a Chinese national arrested on suspicion of rape last year. The case fell apart and he was never charged, but his details are still on the database.’

  ‘And what about the semen? Is that Wong’s, too?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘I’m afraid not, no. That matches the sample you sent over yesterday from Don Townsend.’

  Phillips nodded into the phone. ‘So you’re saying she wasn’t raped, then?’

  ‘Not unless Wong had sex with her after Townsend and used a condom.’

  ‘Which is not impossible, but rather unlikely,’ said Phillips.

  ‘I’d say so, yes.’

  Phillips said nothing for a moment as she mused over something that had been bothering her for a few days. ‘Tan, would you be able to do me a favour?’

  ‘As long as it’s not tonight, yes. I’ve been on my feet all day and I really need to get home,’ said Chakrabortty.

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s nothing urgent – just something as and when you have time,’ said Phillips.

  ‘In that case, what do you need?’

  ‘A paternity test on the foetus. I’d like to know if the father was Aaron Carpenter or Townsend.’

  ‘Why?’

  Phillips let out a sigh. ‘Something Jonesy said to me the other day. I haven’t told Carpenter that his wife was pregnant – and I still won’t if it wasn’t his. But if he was the father, then he probably should know the truth.’

  ‘Leave it with me,’ said Chakrabortty. ‘I’ve got a crazy week ahead, but I’ll get it sorted for you when I get some time.’

  ‘Much appreciated, Tan. Now go home and get some rest.’

  ‘Don’t you worry. I’m leaving now,’ said Chakrabortty cheerfully, as she ended the call.

  Phillips sat for a moment in silence, thinking of the mess made by Carpenter and Townsend’s affair. Still resolutely single, she wondered if she would ever have the courage to trust someone with her heart. Occasionally she found herself longing for someone to talk to besides the team and her cat Floss – a partner to share things with – but then something like the Carpenters-Townsend love-triangle would show up and scare her half to death. What a mess they’d all made of everything. Still, it didn’t help to dwell on things, so she jumped up from her chair and made her way out to the main office. ‘Entwistle, I need you to find me an address for a Jimmy Wong. He’ll be on the database for an alleged rape last year.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Entwistle, as he began typing.

  Jones and Bovalino gazed at Phillips, their eyes wide and expectant.

  ‘Wong’s DNA was found under Carpenter’s fingernail.’

  ‘Jesus, really?’ Bovalino sounded more than a little surprised.

  ‘He’s now our number one suspect,’ Phillips continued. ‘Jonesy, book a uniform team in for the morning. We’ll raid his place at dawn.’

  Jones nodded and picked up the phone.

  ‘Once that’s done, let’s all get some rest. It’s gonna be an early start and a big day tomorrow.’

  9

  News travels fast in Chinatown, especially when it comes to the activities of outsiders.

  As soon as he had received the message from one of his trusted sources, he had travelled through the empty streets of Manchester city centre to his current position, less than forty feet up the street from the entrance to the old building. Despite it being the early hours of the morning, he had made the short journey on foot without being seen. Standing in the shadows of the doorway, he watched on as a number of uniformed police prepared to make a dawn raid through the main entrance of the apartment block. The speed at which they had found his associate’s address had both surprised and infuriated him. He knew his accomplice had made some rookie errors on the night of the kill. Precisely because of that, he had gone to great lengths to remove any trace that they had been there that night. Clearly he had not gone far enough. He cursed himself for allowing such an amateur into his world and vowed that, from here on in, he would only ever work alone.

  Up ahead, the uniformed officers made ready their weapons as a woman in a long, dark coat emerged from a side street with three men in tow. He was too far away to hear any of the conversation, but from the way she moved and the reactions of the men when she spoke, it appeared that she was in charge of the operation. A moment later, a number of the uniformed officers headed towards the rear of the building at pace, and the remainder of the crew turned their attention to the main entrance.

  He continued to stare out from the shadows as he considered his options. Tempted as he was to watch the entire operation unfold, he knew it was too much of a risk. That was just not his style.

  The police finally gained access through the large glass front door of the apartment block, and began to file into the reception area. As they did, he stepped out from the doorway and slipped away silently down the adjacent alley.

  10

  Wong’s apartment was located in the city centre, just a minute’s walk from Chinatown, in an old clothing factory that had been repurposed as part of the city’s redevelopment in the early
noughties.

  With the sun casting a hazy glow on the horizon as dawn approached, Phillips stood on the street outside the block with Jones, Bovalino and Entwistle, waiting to raid Wong’s apartment. Each of them wore a stab vest as they stood alongside the uniformed tactical firearms unit, all of whom carried MP5 semi-automatic machine guns. Because of the time of day, the procedure was further complicated by the lack of a concierge to let them into the building. Instead, one of the TFU officers had been forced to call a number of Wong’s neighbours in the hopes that one of them would open the main door. After a few false starts, and expletives from residents who clearly did not believe they were speaking to the police, one neighbour did finally agree to give them access.

  A second TFU team was stationed at the rear of the building in case Wong tried to make his escape through one of the metal fire exits attached to the apartment block.

  Once inside the ground floor lobby, the team split, with the TFU taking the stairs while Phillips and the team used the elevator. A moment later, huddled on the small landing outside Wong’s address, Phillips gave the order for the lead member of TFU to smash open the door with the small battering ram he held in his hands. A couple of deafening blows followed, and as the door gave way, the TFU charged into the apartment, each shouting ‘Armed police!’ as they fanned out, weapons engaged and trained on any potential targets. Phillips and the team followed them in to hear shouts of ‘Clear!’ from every room.

  ‘He’s not here, Ma’am,’ said Sergeant Rhodes, the TFU senior officer.

  ‘Shit!’ said Phillips as her frustration boiled over.

  Jones and Bovalino disappeared into the bedrooms whilst Phillips scanned the lounge. The place was sparsely decorated, with just a small sofa, an IKEA armchair and an old TV on a stand beneath the large window.

  Jones reappeared. ‘There’s nothing in the main bedroom to indicate where he’s gone, and the wardrobe is empty apart from a couple of metal hangers on the rail.’

  A moment later, Bovalino walked into the lounge holding a small piece of paper in his hand, which he passed to Phillips. ‘There’s an address written on here, but it’s quite hard to read. The handwriting is shocking.’

  Phillips squinted as she attempted to decipher the scrawled words. ‘Looks like somewhere in London. Jonesy, you’re our resident cockney. What part of the city is the W1 postcode attached to?’

  Jones stepped forwards, took the piece of paper and inspected the address for a moment. ‘Er, if my memory serves me right, I think W1 is Soho, or Chinatown way,’ he said, then began typing the sequence of letters and numbers into Google on his phone. A second later, he found what he was looking for. ‘Yep, that address is coming up as the Golden Flower restaurant, just a few doors down from the Chinatown Gate.’

  ‘Anyone fancy a Chinese?’ grinned Bovalino.

  Phillips shot him an agitated look and his face straightened.

  ‘I’ve got a friend in the Clubs and Gangs Unit of the Met, DI Ben Walsh. I could call him and see if that address is known to them?’ said Jones.

  Phillips checked her watch; it was just after 5.30 a.m. ‘Will he be up yet?’

  Jones smiled. ‘One way to find out.’ He opened up the contact list in his phone and walked back into the main bedroom.

  ‘What would you like us to do, Ma’am?’ asked Sergeant Rhodes.

  Phillips released a frustrated sigh. ‘Nothing. You and your guys can get back to base.’

  Rhodes nodded, and signalled to his team that it was time to leave.

  For the next five minutes, Phillips, along with Bovalino and Entwistle, milled about the apartment looking for anything that might give them a clue as to Wong’s location, but found nothing.

  Then Jones returned to the lounge room.

  ‘Was Walsh awake?’ asked Phillips, as Bovalino and Entwistle gathered next to her.

  ‘No, but he is now,’ said Jones, with a grin. ‘It turns out that address is well known to the boys in CGU.’

  Phillips eyes widened. ‘Go on.’

  ‘It’s an apartment above the Golden Flower restaurant. From the outside it looks legit, but Walsh reckons it’s used as an illegal gambling den by Chinese nationals. They keep themselves to themselves and don’t involve tourists, and because the CGU don’t have enough people to shut them down, the Met turns a blind eye.’

  ‘So could Wong be there?’ said Phillips.

  ‘Possibly. He’s known to Walsh and CGU,’ said Jones. ‘He used to run with one of the Triad gangs down in the capital, but as far as they were concerned, he had moved up here a couple of years ago. He’s not been seen in London since.’

  Phillips mulled the information over for a moment.

  ‘What you thinking, Guv?’ asked Bovalino.

  Phillips smiled and turned to face him. ‘I’m thinking it’s time you took a little trip to London, Bov, with your Cockney mate over here,’ she said, nodding in Jones's direction.

  ‘London?’ said Bovalino, clearly aghast. ‘I fucking hate London. It’s full of arseholes.’

  ‘Oi!’ said Jones, with a grin, as he punched Bovalino on his arm. ‘I’m one of those arseholes, thank you very much.’

  ‘You know what I mean, Jonesy,’ said the big Italian. ‘Can’t Entwistle go instead? He’s a flash git, he’ll fit right in down there.’

  Entwistle’s brow furrowed. ‘Are you deliberately trying to offend everyone today, Bov?’

  Phillips cut in before he could answer. ‘I need Entwistle here with me, so it has to be you and Jones. I’ll speak to Fox this morning to get her approval to set up a joint operation with the Met to raid that place. See if we can flush Wong out.’

  Bovalino nodded reluctantly and his shoulders sagged, which gave him the appearance of a freshly chastised teenager.

  ‘Don’t worry, Bov,’ said Jones, playfully. ‘I know you get a nosebleed whenever you leave Manchester, but I’ll look after you, big man.’

  ‘Piss off!’ said Bovalino, half-smiling now.

  ‘Right. Let’s get back to Ashton House and get organised,’ said Phillips. She made to leave the apartment. ‘Get forensics in here ASAP. I want every inch of this place checked for anything that might connect Wong to Carpenter’s murder.’

  Jones nodded. ‘Guv.’

  Phillips continued, ‘And I want you and Bov on the train to Euston this afternoon.’

  Entwistle and Bovalino followed her out as Jones brought up the rear, jokingly singing a famous old London song in a thick Cockney accent, thumbs tucked into his stab vest. It was clearly for Bovalino’s benefit. “Knees up Mother Brown, knees up Mother Brown, under the table you must go, Ee-aye, Ee-aye, Ee-aye-oh…”

  11

  After returning from the raid on Wong’s apartment, Phillips debriefed Fox, who wasted no time in ensuring that a joint operation was agreed between the MCU and the Met’s Clubs and Gangs Unit. The plan was to raid the address above the Golden Flower at midnight.

  As the time approached 6 p.m., Jones and Bovalino found themselves on the 17.55 train to London Euston as it rolled steadily out of Manchester Piccadilly. Sadly for Bovalino, it was rush hour and the carriages were packed to the rafters. Huddled into his tiny seat in standard class, he was forced to stick his huge thighs out into the aisle, which had already proved problematic with other passengers struggling to get their luggage through. Conversely, Jones, who was at least six inches shorter and about half as wide, sat comfortably in the window seat next to him.

  ‘So why do you hate London so much, Bov?’ asked Jones.

  Bovalino flinched as a passenger, making his way down the aisle on his way back from the buffet car, clattered into his protruding knee. Bovalino shot him a frustrated look.

  ‘Sorry,’ said the man with a sheepish expression, then continued back to his seat.

  ‘Like I said, it’s full of arseholes,’ said Bovalino, ‘and it’s just too damn busy for my liking.’

  ‘How often have you been, then?’

  ‘Often enough,’
said Bovalino, as he adjusted his weight in a vain attempt to get comfortable.

  ‘Come on. How many times?’

  ‘It’s not important, Jonesy. Just leave it, will you.’

  Jones stared at his partner for a long moment before a large grin spread across his face. ‘You’ve never been, have you?’

  ‘Yes I have,’ replied Bovalino indignantly.

  ‘Bollocks! I know you, Bov, and I can tell when you’re lying. And you’re definitely lying now. You’ve never been.’

  Bovalino attempted to change the subject. ‘Is there a drinks trolley on here?’ He leaned out into the aisle and looked left and right.

  Jones chortled. ‘You’re a bloody idiot, Bov. Thirty-five years of age and you’ve never even been to London.’

  Bovalino turned back to face Jones now. ‘All right, all right. You’ve made your point. Can we just drop it, please?’

  Jones grinned, and tapped Bovalino on his left thigh. ‘A bit touchy, aren’t we? What’s the matter? You scared what might happen to you in the Big Smoke?’

  ‘Oh piss off.’

  Jones giggled. ‘Don’t you worry, big man. I’ll keep you safe and get you back to your beloved Manchester in one piece.’

  Bovalino didn’t respond. Jones turned to the view out of the window. When Bovalino finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper. ‘If you must know, I am scared.’

  Jones spun round to face Bovalino, eyes wide. ‘You what?’

  Bovalino’s chin dropped to his chest. ‘I’m scared, Jonesy.’

  Jones shifted in his seat. ‘Is this a wind-up?’

  Bovalino took a deep breath. ‘No, no it’s not. Since my accident on the Hawkins case, I feel like I’ve lost my nerve. I came so close to losing everything. Everything. What if I’m not so lucky next time?’

  ‘Don’t be daft, mate. That was a complete one-off. That won’t happen again.’

  ‘But what if it does? What if next time I end up in a wheelchair, for good? Or get killed, even? What would that do to Izzie? I can’t stop thinking about it.’