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

by OMJ Ryan

  Phillips scoffed. ‘Oh, come on, Donald. Don’t piss us about.’

  ‘I’m telling you the truth. I’ve never seen that bag in my life.’

  Phillips shouted for Entwistle to join her.

  A moment later he appeared, still holding the packet of heroin. ‘It’s heroin, Guv.’

  Phillips nodded. ‘We found it taped to the bottom of your bathtub. Is that not yours, either?’

  Donald stared at the package in silence for a long moment before he finally spoke. ‘I’d like my phone call, please.’

  Phillips chortled. ‘This isn’t bloody Law and Order, mate.’

  Donald appeared indignant. ‘I know my rights.’

  ‘Funny you should say that,’ said Phillips, as she cast her eyes towards Entwistle, ‘because I’m arresting you for possession with intent to sell class-A narcotics. Entwistle, caution him, then help him get dressed.’

  Entwistle stepped forwards. ‘You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say, may be given in evidence…’

  Sometime later, Phillips and Jones stood in the interview room observation suite, staring at the monitor feed from Interview Room Two.

  ‘How the hell can he afford Nic Johnson as his counsel?’ said Phillips, with considerable irritation. ‘She’s a bloody nightmare.’

  Jones nodded his agreement as the door opened and Entwistle entered, followed by Bovalino, who made straight for the monitor.

  ‘Jesus. I heard he’d got Johnson as his lawyer,’ said the Italian.

  Entwistle looked puzzled. ‘What is it with everyone and this chick?’ He stared at the monitor. Nic Johnson was dressed impeccably in a designer black suit, her stair-rod-straight jet-black hair cut into a sharp bob.

  Jones folded his arms and hitched his buttocks onto the desk behind him. ‘You’ve clearly never had the pleasure of doing battle with Nic Johnson then, Entwistle?’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’

  Jones continued, ‘Well, if you had, you’d know she’s as tough as a cat’s head, and strikes fear into almost everyone in the CPS. She rarely loses her cases. And if I were you. I wouldn’t let her hear you refer to her as “a chick” either. She’s likely to cut your balls off and feed them to you on a silver platter.’

  ‘As you can see, Jones is a big fan,’ Phillips commented. ‘He met her for the first time when she represented Marty Michaels. As you know, he was up for murder a few years back.’

  ‘The case where you got shot?’ asked Entwistle.

  ‘That’s the one,’ said Phillips, without feeling.

  ‘She’s a piece of work, I can tell you,’ added Jones.

  ‘Yes, she is,’ said Phillips. ‘Not long after that case, she used the fact I broke the law to help Michaels – her own bloody client, I might add – to discredit me in court on another case. The jury bought it and her client got off on a rape charge. He was a mega-rich footballer who was sleeping with a fifteen-year-old girl. He was found not guilty and went straight back to his old life. In fact, he’s still playing.’

  ‘Do you think she’ll try that one again here, Guv?’ asked Jones.

  Phillips shook her head. ‘The CPS will be prepared for it this time. They were blindsided in that case.’ She turned her attention back to the monitor. ‘How is the lab getting on with the full test of the heroin?’

  ‘We’ll have the results back this afternoon,’ said Entwistle.

  ‘Good,’ said Phillips. ‘Okay. So, aside from the suspected heroin and a bag of cash, there was no trace of Hollie in the apartment. But we do know Donald’s broke, he has serious beef with Richard Hawkins, and lied about where he was the night Hollie was taken. If he is involved, we need to use his current predicament to get him to talk – and fast. Time is running out for Hollie.’

  The team around her nodded.

  ‘Jonesy, I want you in there with me.’

  ‘Yes, Guv.’

  ‘You two, stay here and make notes. If you spot anything we miss, pull us out. Ok?’

  Bovalino and Entwistle nodded again.

  Phillips picked up her leather-bound notepad from the desk and took a deep breath. ‘Right then, Jonesy. Let’s do this.’

  As Phillips and Jones entered Interview Room Two, Gerry Donald remained seated behind a small desk, arms folded against his chest. He said nothing, instead fixing them both with an icy stare.

  Nic Johnson followed her usual strategy of trying to assume control of the room from the outset. She stood and offered her hand to both Phillips and Jones before she returned to her seat and started in on the defensive. ‘My client fully intends to cooperate with your investigation. We are very confident that all of this can be explained quite simply.’

  Phillips nodded, but said nothing – her own tactic that helped her gain control. She placed her notepad on the table and busied herself as she set up the DIR – digital interview recorder. When she was finished, she turned to look directly at Johnson. ‘I must say, Ms Johnson, I’m surprised to see you representing Mr Donald. Especially when I consider your considerable fees and your client’s financial issues.’

  Johnson didn’t flinch. ‘Whoever settles my client’s account is none of your business, Inspector.’

  ‘Chief Inspector, actually,’ Phillips shot back.

  ‘Oh? You were reinstated?’ said Johnson, obviously feigning surprise. Phillips was sure there was little gossip Johnson did not know of in the Manchester criminal justice system.

  Phillips ignored the comment and pressed on. ‘Now then, Gerry. We found a large quantity of uncut heroin in your apartment, along with a hold-all containing almost fifty thousand pounds in cash. Can you tell us how they came to be in your possession?’

  Donald opened his mouth to speak, but Johnson cut in before he had chance to answer. ‘My client has shared with me the fact he has a drug problem. The heroin was for personal use.’

  ‘Two kilos? That’s some habit, Gerry,’ Phillips scoffed.

  Johnson continued, ‘And he won the money playing poker.’

  Phillips snorted loudly. ‘That must have been a high-stakes game.’

  ‘It was,’ said Johnson.

  ‘I’d like to hear it from Gerry. If you don’t mind?’ said Phillips.

  Johnson beckoned Donald to move in close, and whispered in his ear. Donald nodded, and turned his attention back to Phillips. ‘Like Nic said. It was a high-stakes game. Five grand buy-in.’

  ‘If you won the cash playing poker, why did you say you’d never seen it when we found it this morning?’

  ‘I panicked. That’s all.’

  ‘Ah, right, you panicked,’ said Phillips.

  ‘Yes, I did. It’s pretty bloody scary having a load of coppers kicking your door down and going through your stuff, I can tell you.’

  Phillips continued, ‘We’ve checked your finances and you’re flat broke, Gerry. In fact, you’re worse than broke – you have debts of close to a million quid. If that’s the case, where did you get five thousand pounds for the buy-in?’

  Donald shrugged. ‘I borrowed it.’

  Phillips raised her eyebrows. ‘And who would be stupid enough to lend you money?’

  ‘My sister,’ said Donald.

  ‘Sandra?’

  ‘That’s right. You can check with her. She gave it to me last week,’ said Donald.

  ‘And does Sir Richard know he’s funding your gambling habit?’

  Donald screwed his face up. ‘It’s not a habit, but I very much doubt it. And besides, that bastard owes me a lot more than five grand.’

  Phillips latched on to Donald’s obvious irritation. ‘That’s right. You and he were business partners, weren’t you?’

  ‘If you can call it that. In my world, a partner doesn’t walk away and leave you in the shit!’

  Johnson placed her hand on Donald’s wrist – a silent cue used by lawyers when they felt their client was sharing too much inform
ation. It worked. He stopped talking.

  Phillips continued. ‘Is that how you feel? That Richard Hawkins left you in the shit?’

  Donald looked at Johnson, who cut in now. ‘Chief Inspector. How are my client’s business dealings relevant to why we’re here?’

  Phillips ignored the question and changed tack. ‘Where did you get the heroin, Gerry?’

  Donald glanced at Johnson, who nodded. ‘Just some guy I met in the pub.’

  Phillips eyes narrowed. ‘You bought two kilos of heroin from a guy in the pub?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And does this guy have a name?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘He never told me. And I didn’t ask.’

  Phillips reclined in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. ‘So how did you meet this guy in the pub, then?’

  ‘He walked up to me at the bar and asked me if I wanted any gear. I said yes. He said, “How much?” and I said as much as he could get.’

  ‘And which pub was this?’

  Donald shrugged again. ‘I can’t remember.’

  Phillips produced a wry grin and allowed herself a chuckle. ‘That’s convenient, isn’t it?’ She signalled for Jones to take over.

  Jones leant forwards in his chair. ‘Where were you on the night of the 31st October, Gerry? Halloween?’

  Donald tutted. ‘You know where I was. I’ve already told you this yesterday.’

  ‘You may have told me, but DCI Phillips hasn’t heard it from you, yet. Could you share your movements with her?’

  Donald released an exasperated sigh. ‘Like I told you and that big fella that was with you, I was at home with Shelley, all night. We had dinner, watched a movie, then we went to bed.’

  Jones opened a Manila folder on the desk. ‘So you never left the apartment?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘And Shelley stayed the night?’ Jones continued.

  ‘Yes. She came to mine straight from work, and then went back to work the following day.’

  Jones glanced down at his own notes. ‘Ah yes. She confirmed that when we spoke to her yesterday.’

  Donald flashed a lopsided grin, evidently pleased with his alibi.

  ‘Which seems a bit odd, really,’ said Jones, as he pulled an A4 print from the folder. He turned it to face Donald and Johnson, and slid it across the table. ‘Because we came across this ANPR footage of your car in Openshaw, on the night you and Shelley claim to have been at yours all evening. Are you familiar with automatic number plate registration cameras?’

  Donald’s mouth fell open, but no words came out.

  ‘They’re all over the city,’ said Jones, ‘and each time your car drives past one, it registers on our database. It means we can track cars twenty-four hours a day. Do you know where this picture was taken?’

  Donald’s eyes darted towards Johnson, who cut in. ‘How is any of this relevant to my client’s arrest this morning?’

  Phillips rejoined the fray. ‘It’s relevant to your client’s credibility regarding his whereabouts on the night of October 31. Now answer the question, Gerry. Where was your car parked when it was caught on this ANPR camera?’

  Johnson nodded for Donald to answer. ‘The Northern Snooker Club in Openshaw,’ he said, his voice cracking as he spoke.

  ‘Bingo,’ said Jones theatrically. ‘And what were you doing there on Halloween, when you told us you were tucked up in bed with your girlfriend?’

  ‘Playing snooker,’ said Donald, regaining his composure.

  ‘Who with?’

  ‘On my own,’ said Donald.

  Jones nodded. ‘Of course you were. Do you by any chance know who owns the Northern Snooker Club?’

  Donald’s nose twitched. It was obvious enough for Phillips to see it, so she was sure Jones had seen it too.

  ‘No. I can’t say that I do.’

  ‘Adders Bahmani,’ said Jones, and tapped the picture with an index finger. ‘That’s his Range Rover parked next to your car.’

  Johnson interjected. ‘As fascinating as this is, again, how is any of it relevant?’

  Jones stared at Johnson. ‘Adders Bahmani is a suspected serious criminal. He’s been implicated in all manner of crimes, including drug trafficking and kidnapping.’

  ‘So?’ said Johnson.

  ‘So. You have to admit, it does seem a little convenient. We find two kilos of heroin and fifty grand cash in Gerry’s apartment the same week his car is spotted, parked next to a suspected drug dealer and kidnapper’s car. Especially as he lied about being there when we questioned him yesterday.’

  Phillips cut back in before Johnson could respond. ‘Why did you lie about where you were on the night of your niece’s disappearance, Gerry?’

  Donald stuttered.

  Phillips pressed on. ‘Is it because you were involved in her kidnap, along with Adders Bahmani? Did you help him get into the Marstons Club on the night she was snatched? Are the drugs and the money your cut of the ransom?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘It’s time to stop lying, Gerry,’ said Phillips. ‘Where is Hollie? What has Bahmani done with her?’

  Donald’s complexion had turned ashen. He stared blankly at Phillips and Jones.

  ‘Can I have a moment alone with my client, please?’ asked Johnson.

  Phillips forced a thin smile and stood. ‘Of course. We’ll find another room until you’re ready.’

  Jones followed her out, and the door closed behind them. They made their way to the observation suite, where Bovalino and Entwistle waited.

  Following the correct protocols, the monitors and speakers had been switched off whilst Johnson held counsel with Donald.

  ‘What do you reckon, Guv?’ asked Bovalino.

  Phillips rubbed the back of her neck for a moment before answering. ‘He’s as dodgy as all hell, but I’m still not sure he’s involved in the kidnapping.’

  ‘Me neither,’ said Jones. ‘But, based on his lifestyle, he’s definitely involved in dealing drugs – and with Bahmani – in some capacity.’

  Phillips nodded. ‘One hundred per cent. I mean, does he look like a man with a smack habit that requires him to buy two kilos of heroin at a time?’

  ‘Not one bit,’ said Entwistle.

  Phillips tapped her tongue against the roof of her mouth for moment as she considered her next move. ‘Right. Well, if I know Johnson like I think I do, she’s about to produce a client statement that’ll bear as much regard to the truth as a bloody fairy story. So whilst she creates her work of fiction, I’m off to get a cuppa. Shout me when she’s ready to share her masterpiece.’

  Sometime later, Jones appeared in the canteen, where Phillips was sat cradling the remains of her black tea. He smiled as he approached. ‘They’re ready, Guv.’

  Phillips drained her mug and followed him back towards the interview suite. A few minutes later, she led the way into Interview Room Two. She and Jones took a seat each, opposite Donald and Johnson.

  ‘My client would like me to read a statement he has prepared regarding the night his niece was taken,’ said Johnson, who produced a hand-written statement. ‘It also explains the drugs and money found in his apartment this morning.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Phillips.

  Johnson began reading aloud. ‘On the evening of the 31st of October, I visited the Northern Snooker Club in Openshaw, where I played snooker, alone, from 7.30 p.m. until approximately 10 p.m., at which time I left and made my way home to my apartment in Salford Quays. I did not speak with anyone at the club, or on my way home. I did, however, speak to the concierge on my return to the apartment block at approximately 10.30 p.m. He can verify this fact. The money that was found in my apartment was winnings from a poker game. The drugs recovered from my home were for my own personal use. I have a significant drug habit, and it was never my intention to sell the heroin to anyone else. I do not know anyone named Adders Bahmani, nor do I have any knowledge of his alleged crimes. The fact my car was parked next to his at the Northern Sno
oker Club is nothing more than a coincidence. I have nothing further to say on the matter. Gerry Donald.’ Johnson passed over the statement to Phillips, who didn’t bother looking at it.

  ‘If this is all just a coincidence, then why did you lie about your whereabouts on the night Hollie was taken, Gerry?’

  Donald folded his arms and stared Phillips dead in the eye. ‘No comment.’

  23

  Jones had handled the formalities and charged Donald for possession of the heroin, and he was now safely locked away in the custody suite of Ashton House. He would remain there until morning, at which point he would be transferred to Manchester’s Magistrates’ Court, and then remanded into HMP Hawk Green until his trial.

  Back in her office on the third floor, Phillips closed the door, but remained standing as she placed a call to Dr Chakrabortty’s mobile. The pathologist answered after a few rings.

  ‘Jane. What can I do for you?’

  Phillips wandered over to her desk and glanced at the lab report displayed on her computer screen. It was a full analysis of the drugs seized from Donald, and had arrived in her inbox less than half an hour ago. ‘I want to know if the heroin you found in Cartwright’s system is a match for a batch we seized this morning. Do you have the compositions report?’

  ‘It’s on my laptop,’ said Chakrabortty. ‘Give me a minute to find it.’

  Phillips took a seat in front of her PC while she waited. She could hear Chakrabortty tapping away at the other end of the phone before she rejoined the call.

  ‘I’m sending it to your email now,’ said Chakrabortty.

  ‘Ditto,’ said Phillips. ‘I’ve just sent you my lab report on the drugs from this morning’s raid.’

  Phillips’s PC pinged, signalling she had incoming mail, and a moment later the message icon appeared in the bottom of the screen. Through the phone, she could hear the same thing happening on Chakrabortty’s side. They opened their respective documents at the same time.

  On the screen, Phillips placed her own lab report next to the one Chakrabortty had sent over. Side by side, it was evident they were pretty much identical, but Chakrabortty was the first to comment.