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

by OMJ Ryan

  As the car pulled onto Wilmslow Road, he dialled the usual number on his phone. It connected. As was customary, he didn’t wait for a response.

  ‘It is done,’ he said, his voice devoid of emotion, and ended the call.

  CHAPTER 2

  As the time approached midnight, DCI Jane Phillips made her way down the side of the detached house in Withington, four miles south of Manchester. SOCO – scene of crime operation – was already on site, the garage at the end of the drive lit up like a movie location. Just before she reached the garage, she stepped inside the white SOCO tent. Detective Constable Bovalino, his massive, muscular frame squeezed into the biggest forensic suit the Greater Manchester Police could provide, turned towards her. Next to him stood a uniformed sergeant, waiting.

  Phillips nodded to Bovalino, then turned her attention to the sergeant. ‘Are you Baxter?’

  The sergeant nodded. ‘Yes, Ma’am.’

  ‘You said on the phone it looks like a suicide, but you wanted MCU to have a look at it because her husband’s claiming she was murdered?’

  Baxter cleared his throat and shifted his feet before answering. He seemed nervous. ‘That’s right, Ma’am. He’s insisting that there was no way she would kill herself, and that someone else must have done it.’

  ‘And he found the body?’

  ‘That’s correct, Ma’am. Her name’s Victoria Carpenter.’

  Phillips glanced at Bovalino, eyebrows raised. ‘Well, we’d better take a look at her then, hadn’t we?’ she said, and thrust her right leg into a forensic suit.

  A moment later, with her athletic frame fully suited and her dark-haired ponytail reset, she cleaned her glasses with an antiseptic wipe, then stepped into the garage, closely followed by Bovalino. Baxter remained outside.

  Phillips had witnessed hundreds of crime scenes throughout her twenty years on the force, but the first sight of a dead body always gave her pause. Tonight was no different, and she stopped to take in the scene. Carpenter’s dead body hung from the ceiling joist, a blue rope tied around her neck. Her face was bloated and her wide, blood-shot eyes appeared to be staring off into space. Her jogging bottoms were wet from the crotch down to her ankles, which hung about two feet above the ground. Near her feet was an upturned chair.

  Camera flashes from the forensic team cast flickering, temporary shadows across the space as the crime scene specialists moved around, attempting to capture every detail.

  Phillips knelt to get a closer look at the small pool of liquid on the floor below the body.

  ‘Looks like she peed herself,’ said Andy Evans, the senior CSI on duty. Despite his pale face being covered by a mask, she recognised his voice instantly.

  Phillips nodded and got back to her feet. ‘So, was it suicide?’

  ‘On first inspection, it looks that way,’ replied Evans.

  ‘I’m told the husband claims it was murder.’

  Evans’s eyes widened. ‘Really? Why?’

  ‘I dunno…’ Phillips, frowning, took in the scene once more. It certainly had the appearance of a suicide and, to the naked eye, there was no sign of a struggle. ‘…but I guess we’d better talk to him and find out.’

  She turned back to Bovalino and signalled for him to lead the way out. A few minutes later, after removing and bagging their forensic suits, Phillips and Bovalino made their way into the main house, which was detached from the garage.

  The property was the classic Victorian architecture prevalent in the suburbs to the south of Manchester. Inside, it looked as if it had been lovingly renovated, with an array of modern furniture and fittings that complemented the original features and high ceilings. Making their way into the lounge, they found Victoria Carpenter’s husband, Aaron, sitting in an armchair, cradling a glass of something that looked like brandy as he stared at the floor. He wore jeans and a replica England Cricket shirt with short sleeves. Seated, it was difficult to tell how tall he was, but his bare arms were muscular. It appeared he was a man who enjoyed exercise, and his close-cropped auburn hair and stubble only added to his sporty appearance.

  ‘Mr Carpenter?’ Phillips said, her tone soft. ‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Phillips and this is Detective Constable Bovalino. Can we have a quick word?’

  Carpenter moved his gaze from the floor to meet Phillips’s. He nodded without blinking, as if in a trance.

  Phillips and Bovalino took a seat on the adjacent sofa.

  ‘I’m told you were the one who found your wife’s body. Is that correct?’ asked Phillips.

  Carpenter nodded again. ‘Yes,’ he said, his voice almost a whisper.

  ‘And what time was that?’

  Carpenter took a moment to answer, as though deep in thought. ‘I’d say about 10.45. A few minutes after I came home from the cricket.’

  ‘And which cricket was that?’

  ‘England, the 20/20 at Old Trafford.’

  ‘Can you talk us through your movements after you left the cricket tonight?’ said Phillips.

  Carpenter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. ‘I left just before it finished so I could get ahead of the crowds. There was a tram just about to leave as I got to the station, which got me back to Burton Road at about half-ten. Then I walked back here.’

  ‘And what happened when you got home?’

  ‘When I came in, I noticed the house was oddly quiet. I couldn’t see or hear any sign of Vicky, so I called out to her. When there was no answer down here, I headed upstairs, but there was no sign of her. I couldn’t figure out where she could be, so I came back down and called her mobile, which started ringing nearby. I found it on the kitchen table and started to panic – she never went anywhere without her phone. And that’s when I spotted the back door was slightly ajar.’

  ‘And is that unusual?’

  Carpenter scoffed, ‘Around here? Too bloody right. We make a point of locking the doors and windows all the time. People are always getting burgled; it happened to us a few months ago – although they didn’t take much, just Vicky’s laptop.’

  Phillips continued ‘So what happened then?’

  ‘I went out to the garden to see if she was outside, but there was still no sign of her. That’s when I thought to check the garage, and found…’ Carpenter’s voice trailed off and tears streamed down his cheeks.

  ‘Did you touch Vicky at all?’

  Carpenter nodded. ‘I ran and grabbed her legs, trying to take the weight off her neck.’

  ‘And when did you call the police?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘Immediately. I had my phone in my pocket, so I called 999. I stayed with her, holding her legs, but it was no use. I could see she was already dead…but I couldn’t just leave her hanging there.’

  ‘I understand, Mr Carpenter,’ said Phillips. She allowed a moment of silence before she asked her next question. ‘Did Vicky ever talk about taking her own life?’

  Carpenter recoiled. ‘God, no. Never.’

  Phillips glanced sideways at Bovalino, who discreetly raised an eyebrow. She continued. ‘The uniformed sergeant told us that you think your wife was murdered. Why would you say that?’

  ‘Because there was no way she would kill herself. Not Vicky.’

  ‘You’re certain of that?’

  ‘One hundred percent,’ said Carpenter.

  ‘So she hadn’t shown any signs of being depressed of late…anxious, even?’

  ‘No. No. Not at all.’

  ‘Are you sure? Mental health can be a silent killer,’ said Phillips. ‘Many people feel the need to hide it when they’re struggling.’

  ‘She wasn’t struggling,’ said Carpenter firmly. ‘She was having the time of her life.’ His voice was acidic now.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  Carpenter swallowed hard and waved away the question. ‘Nothing. We just weren’t getting on very well of late, that’s all.’

  Phillips eyed him for a moment. ‘If your wife was murdered, Mr Carpenter, do you have any idea who might want to
kill her?’

  Carpenter took a gulp from his glass, then shook his head. ‘No. I don’t.’

  ‘So what makes you so sure it wasn’t suicide?’

  ‘It’s just not something that Vicky would do. It wasn’t in her nature. She would consider killing herself as cowardly. She was a fighter, no matter what the issue.’

  Phillips watched Carpenter for a long moment, attempting to read his body language.

  Baxter entered the room. ‘Sorry to interrupt, Ma’am, but there’s someone here claiming to be Mr Carpenter’s sister.’

  ‘That’ll be Florence,’ said Carpenter. ‘I called her straight after I called you lot.’

  Phillips stood up from the chair. ‘Look, Mr Carpenter; as forensics may be here for some time, I think it might be best if you were to stay somewhere else tonight. Maybe you could stay with your sister?’

  Carpenter nodded, and Phillips smiled sympathetically. ‘In the meantime, I’m sorry to do this, but because you touched your wife, we’ll need to take a DNA swab and fingerprints. It’s purely for elimination purposes.’

  ‘Sure. Whatever you need.’

  ‘One of the forensic team will be in shortly to sort it all out. It’ll just take a minute, and then you can leave.’

  Carpenter’s tear-stained face oozed grief.

  ‘Get some rest, Mr Carpenter,’ said Phillips. ‘We’ll be in touch if we need to speak to you again.’

  Carpenter didn’t respond, instead taking another swig from his drink as he returned his gaze to the floor.

  ‘Bring Mr Carpenter’s sister in, Sergeant,’ said Phillips as she turned to face Baxter, ‘and ask forensics to take the samples they need as a matter of urgency so he can get out of here as soon as possible.’ Phillips turned back to face Carpenter. ‘Do you still have your ticket for the cricket?’

  Carpenter flinched, then locked eyes with Phillips.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your ticket. For tonight. Can I see it?’

  ‘Er, yes of course,’ he said, and pulled his wallet from his pocket and produced a large, folded ticket emblazoned with the three-lions branding. He passed it to Phillips.

  ‘Can I borrow it for a day or two?’

  Carpenter’s brow furrowed. ‘Why?’

  Phillips smiled flatly as she tapped the card against her fingers. ‘Just procedure.’

  Still confused, Carpenter nodded. ‘Keep it. It’s of no use to me now.’ He turned his attention back to his drink.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Phillips, and she and Bovalino made their way out of the room.

  A couple of minutes later, they were back outside the SOCO tent. ‘What do you make of his story then, Bov?’

  ‘He seems plausible enough, but like Evans said, it looks like a straightforward suicide. It’s not as if he had any alternative theories about why anyone would want to kill her.’

  ‘That’s true.’ Phillips nodded in the direction of the tent, where Victoria Carpenter’s body was being placed into a body bag. ‘I’ll head over to pathology in the morning with Jonesy and see what Chakrabortty has to say. While we do that, you and Entwistle see what you can find on Victoria and Aaron Carpenter. See if anything of interest pops up.’

  ‘Will do, Guv,’ said Bovalino.

  Phillips checked her watch. ‘Jesus. It’s almost one in the morning.’ She patted Bovalino’s thick shoulder with a warm smile. ‘You get yourself home to Izzie and I’ll go and see if my cat still loves me.’ She set off in the direction of her car.

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  Acknowledgments

  This book is dedicated to the memory of my cousin Thomas Joseph Patton, Lance Corporal, The Duke of Wellington’s Regiment, my real-life action hero when I was growing up.

  Deadly Vengeance would not have been possible without the constant encouragement and unwavering belief of my amazing wife, Kim. As ever, thank you for your patience, trust and faith in me.

  My gorgeous boy, Vaughan. You constantly remind me that every day gives me a chance to be better than the day before.

  A huge thanks to Mum for all your support, love and prayers.

  Carole Lawford, ex-CPS Prosecutor, and Lambo, who helped me accurately reflect the complex world of British Law.

  Joseph Mitcham, Kenny Hope and WO2 Dusty Rhodes, REME; my experts on all things British Military. Thank you for answering what must have seemed like abstract questions, day and night.

  My coaches, Donna and Cheryl, from ‘Now Is Your Time’, who helped me navigate writing through the COVID-19 Lockdown.

  My publishers, Brian and Garret, and my editor, Laurel, who inspire me to always improve.

  And finally, thank you to my readers for reading Deadly Vengeance. If you could spend a moment to write an honest review, no matter how short, I would be extremely grateful. They really do help readers discover my books.

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  Best wishes,

  Owen

  www.omjryan.com

  Also by OMJ Ryan

  DEADLY SECRETS

  (A crime thriller introducing DCI Jane Phillips)

  DEADLY SILENCE

  (Book 1 in the DCI Jane Phillips series)

  DEADLY WATERS

  (Book 2 in the DCI Jane Phillips series)

  DEADLY VENGEANCE

  (Book 3 in the DCI Jane Phillips series)

  DEADLY BETRAYAL

  (Book 4 in the DCI Jane Phillips series)

  DEADLY OBSESSION

  (Book 5 in the DCI Jane Phillips series)

  DEADLY CALLER

  (Book 6 in the DCI Jane Phillips series)

  Published by Inkubator Books

  www.inkubatorbooks.com

  Copyright © 2020 by OMJ Ryan

  OMJ Ryan has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work.

  DEADLY VENGEANCE is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher.