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

by OMJ Ryan

  Phillips wasted no time in getting to the point of her visit. ‘I understand you worked for Mr Hawkins as his head of security until about twelve months ago?’

  ‘That’s correct,’ said Baker.

  ‘Can you tell me why you left the company?’

  Baker flashed a wry smile. ‘I’m afraid not, Chief Inspector. I signed a gagging order in return for a lump-sum payment.’

  Phillips nodded. ‘I can assure you that anything you tell me will be treated in the strictest confidence.’

  ‘I understand that, but I really don’t think I can share anything with you. I’m sorry.’

  Phillips fixed him with a steely glare. ‘This is police business, Mr Baker. I don’t think gagging orders apply.’

  ‘Look. I promise I’m not trying to be difficult here,’ said Baker. ‘It’s just, I could get into a lot of trouble if I speak to you about what happened.’

  Phillips sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. ‘Well. I could always come back with a bunch of paperwork that would compel you to tell me, plus a gang of uniformed coppers, if you’d prefer that option?’

  Baker raised his hands in mock defence. ‘No. No, that won’t be necessary. If you put it like that, then I’ll tell you what you need to know.’

  Phillips said nothing, but maintained her glare.

  ‘But if anything gets back to him, it’s on you. Ok?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Phillips. ‘So, what happened?’

  Baker sat back in his large office chair, but kept his fingers connected to the desk. ‘The truth of the matter is, we had a disagreement and I punched him in the gut.’ Baker smiled briefly at the memory. ‘He fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes.’

  ‘Must have been some disagreement to end in a fight?’

  ‘It was. And I wouldn’t call it a fight. A fight takes two people to actually throw punches.’

  ‘So, you hit your boss. Isn’t that a bit excessive?’

  ‘Ordinarily, I’d say yes. But if you’ve ever met Hawkins, you’ll know he’s a massive arsehole. He’d had it coming for a very long time.’

  Phillips found herself half smiling.

  Baker obviously noticed. ‘So you have met him, then?’

  Phillips nodded. ‘Yes. I have met Richard Hawkins. And off the record, I’d have to say your assessment seems pretty accurate. But then again, having met him, it seems odd to me that he would pay anyone off for punching him to the ground.’

  Baker chortled. ‘Pride, Chief Inspector. The man thinks he’s smarter, fitter and stronger than anyone else. News of him hitting the ground like a lead weight, with one punch? Well, that’s not the sort of thing he wanted out in the public domain. He also knew that if I was arrested, I wouldn’t have gone quietly. You see, I know all about some of his more private business dealings. So he did what he always does – he threw money at the problem to make it go away. I left that day, and walked away with six months’ salary to keep my mouth shut.’

  ‘Can you tell me what the argument was about?’ said Phillips.

  Baker shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. That detail must stay with me. Unless – as you say – you compel me to tell you. That way, Hawkins’s Rottweiler lawyer will come after you as opposed to me.’

  ‘When you say, “Hawkins’s more private business dealings”, what do you mean by that?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Inspector. You’ll have to ask him about that. My lips are legally sealed on that, I’m afraid.’

  Phillips nodded. As interesting as this information was, it wasn’t the real reason she was here. So she changed tack. ‘Where were you on the night of the thirty-first of October?’

  Baker’s brow furrowed. ‘Halloween?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why do you need to know?’

  ‘Just standard procedure,’ said Phillips.

  ‘Er, well, I’m pretty sure I was here. Let me check my calendar.’ Baker took a moment to type in his computer, and waited a few seconds. He stared intently at the monitor for a long moment, then tapped a finger on the screen. ‘October thirty-first, I was here all day and worked into the evening. Ah yes, I remember now. I was behind schedule on a security plan for a new development in Salford. I worked late to catch up.’ He clicked the computer mouse. ‘According to the security log, I left just after midnight.’

  ‘And is there anyone who can verify that?’

  Baker recoiled. ‘Verify it? I’m sorry, Chief Inspector. Have I done something wrong?’

  Phillips remained stoic. ‘I’m looking into something confidentially. At this stage, I just need to know if anyone can vouch for your whereabouts on the night of Halloween.’

  ‘Should I be calling my lawyer about now?’

  Phillips stared him straight in the eye. ‘I don’t know, Mr Baker. Should you?’

  Baker flashed an awkward smile. ‘I have nothing to hide, I can assure you of that. Here, I can prove it to you.’ He once again tapped on his keyboard. A moment later, he turned the monitor to face Phillips, then clicked his mouse, which activated the video on the screen. It was CCTV footage taken from the main office. According to the timestamp, it showed Baker entering his office at 7 p.m. He was carrying what looked like cartons of Chinese food. Baker engaged the fast-forward function on the video, and for the next few minutes they watched as time passed and his office door remained closed. At 00.03 a.m., Baker emerged, wearing a long coat and carrying an umbrella. He switched off the light and walked out of the shot.

  ‘I can show you the other cameras, if you like,’ said Baker. ‘There’s a bunch of them that will have tracked me all the way to the car park.’

  Phillips did her best to hide her growing frustration. ‘Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.’

  Baker’s smile returned, and a glint lit his eyes. ‘So, my whereabouts have been verified then?’

  ‘It looks that way, yes,’ said Phillips, without feeling.

  ‘So, is there anything else I can help you with?’

  ‘No, thank you. I think I have everything I need.’ Phillips stepped up from the chair. ‘You’ve been most helpful,’ she said, and moved towards the door.

  ‘Off the record, Chief Inspector,’ said Baker, ‘what’s Hawkins been up to now?’

  Phillips turned and forced a thin smile. ‘Thank you for your time, Mr Baker. I can see myself out.’

  16

  Jones and Bovalino presented themselves, along with their credentials, at the reception of Hawkins Industries PLC HQ in Trafford Park, and asked to see Holmes and Matthews. They remained standing whilst they waited.

  Holmes was the first to appear, a short, stocky man with a shaven head to hide his receding hairline.

  ‘Detective Sergeant Jones,’ said Holmes, his tone clipped, his accent the middle-England drawl of a military officer. ‘I understand you would like to speak to me?’

  Jones stepped forwards and offered his outstretched hand, which Holmes gripped and shook, with force. ‘Yes, Mr Holmes. Could we go somewhere more private?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Holmes, eyeing Bovalino.

  ‘Sorry. This is my partner, Detective Constable Bovalino.’ The big Italian nodded as Jones continued. ‘He’s here to speak to Kerry Matthews.’

  Holmes’s brow furrowed. ‘Can I ask what this is about?’

  Jones produced a wide grin. ‘I’ll explain everything once we’re out of earshot.’ He inclined his head in the direction of the receptionist.

  Holmes followed his movement. ‘Very well. Come this way please.’ He turned on his heels and set off towards the belly of the building.

  Jones turned to Bovalino and winked before dropping in behind Holmes.

  A few minutes later, Holmes poured two mugs of coffee from the percolator in the corner of his plush office on the eighth floor of the nine-storey building. He presented one to Jones and took a seat in silence. He sipped from his mug.

  Jones took the initiative. ‘When was the last time you spoke to Sir Richard?’


  Holmes took a moment to answer. ‘Yesterday at 3 p.m. He called regarding a shipment that’s due to be sent to Islamabad in the next few days. Why do you ask?’

  Jones dodged the question. ‘How did he sound?’

  ‘Like he always does: to the point.’

  ‘And are you aware of his personal circumstances at the moment?’

  Holmes’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you referring to his daughter, Hollie?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I know she’s disappeared, and that Sandra is very upset,’ said Holmes.

  Jones wondered whether Holmes was being coy or whether Hawkins had been economical with the truth. He decided to keep his cards close to his chest and let things play out. ‘And what about Sir Richard? Did he sound upset?’

  ‘Upset? No. Irritated? Most definitely. But then Hollie is a highly strung teenage girl – not the type of person Sir Richard has much time for.’

  Jones felt his lips purse. ‘Are you saying he doesn’t get on with his daughter?’

  Holmes took another drink of coffee. ‘They’re not close, that much I know. He’s old-school – like me. We believe the father’s job is to provide for the family. The cuddles, and what-have-you, is the domain of the mother.’

  Jones nodded softly. 'How well do you get on with Sir Richard?’

  ‘He’s my employer and he pays me well to do a job for him. I get on with him just fine.’

  ‘Is he a good boss?’

  Holmes’s face remained deadpan. ‘He’s blunt, and he has very high standards. If you meet those standards, you have no reason to worry. If you don’t, he’ll let you know – in no uncertain terms. It’s not too dissimilar to the military. So it suits me fine.’

  ‘That’s right. You were a Major in the Royal Signals, weren’t you?’

  Holmes’s eyes widened. ‘I see you’ve done your homework, Sergeant.’

  Jones smiled and wiggled his fingers in the air, as if typing. ‘Google. What did we do before it?’

  ‘Can I ask why you googled me?’

  ‘Oh. Just standard practice when I’m making enquiries,’ said Jones.

  Holmes sat forwards now, clasping his hands together on the desk. ‘Yes. And you still haven’t managed to explain your reasons for being here.’

  ‘Like I said. Just making enquiries,’ said Jones. He changed tack. ‘Where were you on the evening of Halloween, Mr Holmes?’

  Holmes didn’t flinch. ‘The night Sir Richard’s daughter disappeared? I was working.’

  ‘Whereabouts?’

  ‘Here. I was in my office all night, working on the transport routes for the Islamabad shipment. When you’re transporting munitions, security is paramount.’

  ‘I see,’ said Jones. ‘And can anyone verify that?’

  ‘Do they need to? Have I done something wrong, Sergeant?’

  Jones shook his head. ‘Just checking where you were.’

  ‘Why? Do you think I had something to do with the girl’s disappearance?’

  ‘Did you?’ said Jones, his eyes locked on Holmes’s.

  Holmes said nothing for a moment, and instead stared back at Jones. ‘No. I was here all night. My second in command, Kerry Matthews, can vouch for me on that one. She was here, working with me until the early hours.’

  Kerry Matthews arrived a few minutes after Jones and Holmes had left the reception area. She was smartly dressed in a light grey suit with a white shirt. Her hair was tied back in a neat bun on the top of her head, and her thin-framed spectacles reminded Bovalino of Phillips. She was certainly around the same height.

  Bovalino introduced himself, and suggested they move to a private room for a quick chat. A few minutes later, they stepped out of the lift onto the fourth floor.

  ‘My office is just down here,’ Matthews said as she beckoned for her guest to follow her.

  Bovalino made mental notes of the office layout, and couldn’t help but sense this was a serious place of work. There was next to no chatter, and the predominant sound was that of fingers typing furiously at keyboards.

  Matthews opened the door to a glass office, ushered Bovalino inside, and closed the door firmly behind her.

  ‘I must say, this is a very tidy office, Miss Matthews,’ Bovalino said as he glanced around the small, but impeccably clean, space.

  Matthews appeared to blush slightly as she sat opposite him. ‘Old habits die hard.’

  ‘How long have you been on civvy street?’

  ‘Too long,’ said Matthews.

  ‘You miss it, then? Life behind the wire?’

  A look of sadness flashed across Matthews’s face. ‘Yes, I bloody do. I wish I’d never left.’

  ‘And why did you leave?’

  ‘I thought the grass would be greener. But it’s not. Look, do you mind if I ask what this is about?’

  ‘At this stage, it’s confidential,’ said Bovalino.

  ‘I’m guessing it has to be something to do with Hollie Hawkins going missing.’

  ‘You know about that?’

  Matthews nodded. ‘Everyone does. Sir Richard’s not what you might call discreet. When he’s on the phone, his voice carries a long way, if you know what I mean?’

  ‘So what’s it like working for Hawkins, then?’ asked Bovalino.

  Matthews blew her lips. ‘Could be worse, I suppose.’

  ‘Do you have much to do with Sir Richard?’

  Matthews shook her head and chuckled. ‘Me? A lowly fourth-floorer? No, he doesn’t venture down here where the plebs live. He deals strictly with our head of security, Mr Holmes.’

  ‘And what’s he like?’

  ‘Is this confidential?’ asked Matthews.

  ‘Strictly,’ said Bovalino.

  ‘Well. He’s a typical officer. Likes everything to be done formally and to the letter. Insists on being called Mr. Holmes. To be honest, I don’t even know his first name. And there’s also a clear hierarchy, with Holmes at the top. And trust me, he doesn’t ever let anyone forget it.’

  ‘Did you work with Marcus Baker, before he left?’

  ‘Yes, I did. That’s half the problem,’ Matthews said with a sigh. ‘Marcus hired me, so Holmes still thinks I’m “Baker’s man”. Even though I’m a woman.’

  ‘Why did Baker leave?’ said Bovalino.

  ‘You’re sure this is confidential?’

  ‘One hundred per cent.’

  Matthews grinned. ‘Rumour has it he punched the old man out cold.’

  Bovalino feigned ignorance. ‘The “old man”?’

  ‘Sir Richard. Apparently Baker knocked him clean out during an argument.’

  ‘What was the argument about?’

  Matthews shrugged. ‘I dunno. Baker never said. Just came into the office and told me he was leaving, there and then. But it didn’t take long for the rumours to start doing the rounds. It was the most exciting thing to happen round here for years.’ Matthews stared into space, seemingly lost in her own thoughts, for a moment. ‘God, I wish I’d seen that.’

  ‘And have you seen Baker since then?’

  ‘No. Not a word. I heard he picked up a new plush gig in the city, but I don’t know the details. It’s a shame. I liked him. He was a decent bloke. But then again, he wasn’t an officer, was he?’

  Bovalino changed tack. ‘Can you tell me where you were on the 31st October between 7 p.m. and midnight?’

  ‘Halloween?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, I was here working with Mr Holmes,’ said Matthews. ‘I remember it because I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to spend the night answering the door to trick-or-treaters.’

  ‘And what were you doing working so late?’

  ‘Planning the transport route for a shipment of munitions. It’s due in the next few days, and Sir Richard and Mr Holmes like everything planned in detail – well in advance. Hawkins signs off the routes personally.’

  ‘And you didn’t go out at all? For food, perhaps?’

  Matthews shook her head. ‘No, we
ordered in. Dominos.’

  ‘I see,’ said Bovalino. He placed his pad and pen back in his jacket pocket. ‘Well, I won’t take up anymore of your time.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’ve been much help, detective?’ said Matthews, as Bovalino stood up.

  ‘Actually, you’ve been very helpful. Thank you. I’ll see myself out.’

  Walking out onto the streets of Spinningfields, Phillips cursed her luck. On paper, Baker looked like a viable suspect, with his military background and an abject hatred for Hawkins. But with a new successful career and not a single criminal conviction, it seemed unlikely he was involved in the kidnapping. Plus, CCTV made for a compelling alibi in court.

  To satisfy her own curiosity, Phillips stepped away from the building and stared up in the direction of Baker’s office, hoping to see some means of exit – a balcony, or fire stairs that would have allowed him to leave his office without being seen on the internal cameras. But the building was made of sheer glass with no opening windows.

  She pulled her phone from her pocket and called Jones.

  ‘Hi, Guv. I’m in the car with Bov, so you’re on speaker. How did you get on with Baker?’

  Phillips let out a loud sigh. ‘Solid alibi with CCTV evidence. How about you guys? Did you get anywhere with Holmes and Matthews?’

  ‘Holmes and Matthews were working together that night,’ said Jones.

  ‘Yeah,’ added Bovalino, ‘with a bunch of witnesses, and CCTV, to back them up, too.’

  ‘So everyone has an alibi?’ said Phillips.

  Bovalino continued, ‘Yep. Pretty convenient that Holmes’s and Matthews’s alibis are each other, though. They could be lying to cover for each other.’

  ‘It’s possible, Bov,’ said Phillips. ‘But even if they are lying, it’ll take time to break those alibis. And time is one thing we don’t have right now. Like Fox said to me the other day, the longer this goes on, the less chance we have of finding Hollie alive.’

  ‘So what’s our next move, Guv?’ said Jones.

  Phillips said nothing for a long moment as she considered her options. ‘Let’s get back to Ashton House and regroup. See if Entwistle, or any of the wider team, have found anything else that might help.’