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

by OMJ Ryan

  Bovalino laughed along. ‘Looking forward to it, partner!’

  ‘Right. We’re just outside the Town Hall now, so we’ll see you in half an hour,’ said Phillips and ended the call.

  Jones pulled the car away from the curb and slipped into the late afternoon traffic.

  ‘Sorry, I should have asked,’ said Phillips. ‘You’re all right working late tonight, aren’t you?’

  Jones shrugged his shoulders. ‘Yeah. I mean, I’ve got nothing else to do have I? Better than sitting at home on my own.’

  38

  The journey from Ashton House in Failsworth to Shaw’s home in Droylsden took just over ten minutes with Bovalino at the wheel, driving with the usual aggressive style he had honed on the weekends as an amateur rally driver.

  As a densely populated suburb situated four miles east of Manchester City Centre, many people still found it surprising that Droylsden actually had its own marina, home to over twenty narrowboats and their moorings. Shaw’s small apartment was located on the top floor of a three-storey block that overlooked the water.

  As Bovalino turned off the engine, Jones opened the file on his knee and checked the contents were all in place. Satisfied, he closed it and stepped out of the car along with Bovalino.

  ‘I’ll take the lead, but jump in as and when you want,’ said Jones as they approached Shaw’s front door.

  ‘Got ya,’ replied Bovalino.

  In the absence of a bell, Jones rapped his knuckles on the door three times and waited. A moment later, the door opened on the chain and Cindy Shaw peeped out through the gap.

  Jones held up his credentials and deliberately spoke in a voice that was louder than necessary. ‘DS Jones from Major Crimes; we spoke earlier today with DCI Phillips.’

  ‘I know who you are,’ said Shaw.

  Jones continued, ‘This is my partner, DC Bovalino. May we come in?’

  ‘What’s this about?’

  Jones glanced left towards the neighbouring flat – purely for effect – then back at Shaw. His voice remained loud. ‘I think you’d prefer it if we explained the reason for our visit inside, Miss Shaw.’

  Shaw stared out in silence for a long moment, nodded, then closed the door in order to release the chain before she opened it wide. ‘Go on through to the lounge.’

  Jones did as directed, with Bovalino in tow, and stepped into the small, but smartly decorated, lounge room. He took in the view of the water and the boats through the large window in front of him.

  Shaw joined them. ‘Can I offer you gentlemen a hot drink?’

  Jones turned to face her. ‘No, thank you. Would you mind taking a seat?’ He gestured, with his arm outstretched, towards the small IKEA-style armchair.

  Shaw followed his instruction as Jones and Bovalino squeezed together into the petite sofa that matched the armchair. Both men remained silent as Jones made a show of opening the folder on the small glass coffee table in between them.

  ‘How much do you earn in your job at the Council?’ Jones asked.

  The question appeared to catch Shaw off guard. ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘What’s your annual salary, currently?’

  ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘Because we’re police officers, Miss Shaw, and it’s important.’

  Shaw’s neck flushed. ‘I really don’t see how what I earn could be important to the police?’

  ‘Oh it is, I can assure you,’ said Jones through a thin smile.

  ‘Erm, well, I’m on twenty-five thousand pounds if you must know.’

  Bovalino made a note in his pad.

  ‘I see,’ Jones nodded. ‘And when was the last time you spoke to your ex-husband?’

  Shaw recoiled in the chair. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘I think you heard my question just fine.’

  Shaw stared open-mouthed for a moment. ‘Why? Has Steven done something wrong?’

  ‘You tell us, Miss Shaw,’ said Jones as he locked eyes with her.

  ‘I really wouldn’t know. I haven’t spoken to Steven since the divorce came through.’

  ‘And when was that?’

  Shaw shrugged. ‘I dunno. Probably eighteen months ago, now.’

  ‘Was it amicable?’

  ‘Well, considering he cheated on me, not really, no.’

  ‘He was seeing another woman?’ Jones asked.

  ‘Another man, actually,’ said Shaw, her tone acerbic. ‘It turns out I was Steven’s beard.’

  Jones felt his cheeks flush slightly at the unexpected revelation, and the room fell silent for a moment. Regaining his composure, he continued, ‘Do you receive any payments from your ex-husband as part of the divorce settlement?’

  Shaw scoffed. ‘You’re kidding, aren’t you? He’s broke. All I got was full responsibility for the mortgage on this place when he buggered off with his boyfriend.’

  ‘And how much is that mortgage each month?’

  Shaw rubbed the back of her neck as her brow furrowed. ‘Look, why are you asking me all these questions about money?’

  Jones didn’t respond, and instead deliberately took a moment to locate the PDF file he was searching for. He held it in his hands for a few seconds before passing it over to Shaw. ‘Is this your account?’

  Shaw took the file, and her eyes widened as she stared down at the statement.

  ‘You and Steven had a joint account whilst you were married; a copy of which you have in your hands right now. As far as we can tell, Steven withdrew five hundred pounds around the time your divorce was finalised in 2018, and he’s not touched that account since. You did the same, at which point it sat doing nothing. Until last November, when someone suddenly started paying two thousand pounds a month into it.’

  Shaw’s breathing had become rapid. She held her clenched fist up to her mouth and began to shake her head.

  Jones pushed on. ‘We’ve traced those payments and they’re coming from a bank in Macau. So, who’s sending you two grand a month from China, and why would they want to do that?’

  ‘I need a glass of water,’ said Shaw as she got up out of the chair.

  ‘Please sit, Miss Shaw,’ Jones said firmly. ‘DC Bovalino will get you a drink. We don’t want you running off now, do we?’ He forced a smile.

  Bovalino disappeared into the kitchen for a minute as Jones and Shaw sat through an awkward silence. The big man returned with a tall glass of water from the tap and carefully placed it on a coaster on the glass table in front of Shaw. She picked it up and took a couple of mouthfuls. Jones sensed she was playing for time, trying to figure out how to explain the money, so he pushed on. ‘Once again, Miss Shaw, who is sending you two grand a month from China, and why?’

  Shaw began to cry, quietly at first, and then tears streamed down her cheeks. Jones and Bovalino had already discussed this as a possible outcome of the interview, so were prepared. It was vital that they remained aloof until she admitted what was going on. Then they could support her if needed.

  ‘If you come clean, Cindy,’ said Jones, deliberately using her first name to disarm her, ‘it will look a lot better for you than if you stay silent on the matter. We’ll find out in the end. We always do, and it could mean the difference between a suspended sentence or prison time.’

  ‘Oh God,’ said Shaw as she placed her face into both hands and began to sob.

  Jones continued unabated. ‘Are you receiving money in exchange for favours within the Planning Department?’

  Shaw’s face remained covered, but she nodded slowly.

  ‘And is Eric Jennings the man who offered you the money?’

  Shaw lifted her head and noisily wiped her nose on her sleeve, then folded her arms across her stomach. ‘Yes.’

  ‘When did he first propose this arrangement?’

  Shaw shook her head and shrugged. ‘I dunno. A month or so after I started at the Town Hall, I guess.’

  Bovalino stepped in for a moment. ‘What made him think you’d be receptive to such an offer?’
>
  ‘He must have overheard me talking to one of the girls in the office about money one day; how I was struggling to pay for this place on my own after Steven left. About a week later, he asked me to work late for a couple of hours, and when everyone had gone home, he called me into his office and asked if I wanted to earn some extra money – off the books. The other girls in the offices had told me he was a bit creepy and lived alone, so at first I thought he was going to ask me to sleep with him. I remember actually being quite relieved when he told me it involved me acting as signatory on one of the corporate accounts. All I had to do was co-sign the transactions and he would do the rest.’

  ‘You must have known what he was asking was illegal, though?’ said Bovalino.

  ‘I had my suspicions, but I needed the money, so I didn’t ask too many questions. I mean, he’s the head of the Planning Department and a clever bloke. I assumed he had it all under control and there was no real danger of anyone finding out.’

  Jones took the lead once more. ‘So, who is the money coming from?’

  ‘I honestly have no idea,’ said Shaw. ‘Mr Jennings knew I’d been married before, and asked if I still had access to any accounts in my married name. I hadn’t bothered to close the joint account, so I gave him that and the money started coming in the next month, regular as clockwork.’

  ‘Do you know what he’s doing with the funds you’re signing off?’ said Jones.

  ‘No. He makes a point of covering up the document itself; “plausible deniability” he called it. All I do is sign and print my name.’

  Jones exhaled loudly. ‘You do realise you could have opened yourself up to serious fraud with this caper of yours, don’t you?’

  Shaw’s bottom lip trembled, and she nodded.

  ‘You could be in serious trouble; looking at a custodial sentence.’

  Shaw broke down again.

  Jones watched her for moment. As a father, his heart went out to her. It was evident for all to see, she was no criminal mastermind; rather, a naive young girl who’d made a terrible mistake in a desperate moment. This time he grabbed a box of tissues from the side and handed them over. ‘Look. Whatever mess you’ve gotten yourself into, if you help us, we can make sure the CPS know about it. That will stand for a lot when it comes to the level of charges you could face.’

  Shaw blew her nose into the tissue and attempted to control her breathing.

  ‘Is there anything else you can tell us about Jennings that might help us?’ asked Jones.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘This afternoon – when DCI Phillips asked you if he’d asked for access to Victoria Carpenter’s emails and files – you said he hadn’t. Is that true?’

  Shaw’s shoulders sagged and she appeared to shrink in the chair. ‘No, it’s not.’

  ‘So he did ask you for access?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And did you give it to him?’ said Jones.

  ‘Yes, I did. I said no initially, but by then I'd already started receiving the extra money. At that point he made it quite clear that I had no choice but to give him what he wanted.’

  ‘I see. And did he ever ask for anything else regarding Carpenter?’

  Shaw took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. ‘He asked me to take a photocopy of her personal diary each week. She kept it in her desk drawer, and because I knew her movements at work and was in and out of her office constantly, it wouldn’t look suspicious if anyone came in and found me there.’

  Jones sat forwards now. ‘Did you give Jennings a copy of her personal diary the week that Victoria was killed?’

  Shaw nodded.

  ‘Were you aware Victoria was having an affair?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And how did you find out?’

  ‘Mr Jennings told me. Said he had it on good authority.’

  ‘I see.’ Jones moved forwards on the small sofa. ‘Cindy, did you call Aaron Carpenter to tell him about Victoria’s affair?’

  ‘Yes. Mr Jennings told me to do it or he’d tell everyone about the money I’d been getting.’ Tears began to well up in Shaw’s eyes again before she dropped her face into her hands once more.

  Jones glanced at Bovalino; they both knew these revelations needed to be on the record.

  A few minutes later, when Shaw had composed herself and sat upright, Jones changed his approach, adopting a soft, supportive demeanour. ‘Look, Cindy, we want to help you out of this mess, we really do. But to do that, we’ll need you to come to the station and make a formal statement about what you’ve just told us.’

  ‘The police station?’

  ‘Yes. Ashton House in Failsworth. You’ll need to come in first thing in the morning.’

  Shaw exhaled and rubbed her face so the skin reddened to match her tear-stained eyes. Mascara ran down her cheeks.

  ‘How does 10 a.m. suit you?’ said Jones.

  ‘That’s fine.’

  Jones produced a warm smile. ‘Good. We can leave you in peace, now.’

  As they made their way to the door, Shaw stopped them. ‘Will there be an investigation into what I’ve done, Sergeant?’

  Jones turned to face her. ‘It’s highly likely, but you’ve helped yourself a lot by being so open about it. That’ll go a long way with the CPS.’

  Shaw forced a weak smile. ‘Well, that’s something, I suppose.’

  Jones offered her a faint smile and then headed for the door.

  39

  She had never met him before, so there was no way she would recognise him. Still, as a precaution he wore the hood of his jacket pulled up tightly over his head, along with a pair of large black sunglasses, perched on the bridge of his nose, that covered the majority of his face. The city centre was awash with CCTV cameras – as was the tram that would carry her towards Manchester – and it was imperative he remained covered and unrecognisable at all times.

  He had been waiting for her, out of sight opposite her tiny flat, since the early hours of that morning. Finally, just over an hour ago, she had emerged before making her way on foot off the small housing estate and five hundred metres down the main drag towards the tram stop. He had followed her at a safe distance the whole way before eventually boarding the tram through a door that was positioned behind her. She had not noticed him – or anyone else, it would seem – appearing lost in whatever it was that was playing through the small headphones secreted in her ears.

  The tram was destined for the city centre where, he suspected, she would alight at St Peter’s Square, then wait for the connecting tram to Rochdale. With each passing stop, more and more rush-hour commuters piled into the carriage, each of them lost in their own little world, focused on the phone in their hand, or the free morning papers handed out along the route.

  Thirty minutes later, the tram rolled slowly across St Peter’s Square, and came to a stop. The doors opened and passengers leaving the tram pushed and shoved their way past those who remained, as well as impatient commuters keen to board.

  As she stepped up from her seat and headed for the exit, he leapt to his feet and followed her out, moving quietly within the crowd behind her as she made her way across the tramlines to the opposite platform.

  Careful to position himself with his back to the CCTV camera above him, he watched as she stood staring into space in the direction of the oncoming trams.

  It wouldn’t be long now, he thought.

  40

  When Jones and Bovalino had left Cindy Shaw’s apartment the previous evening, they hadn’t expected to be back again so soon. She had been a no-show for her 10 a.m. appointment at Ashton House and, after unsuccessfully trying to reach her for an hour on the phone, they had returned to her home.

  This time it was Bovalino who rapped his knuckles on the door whilst Jones cupped his hands to the side of his face as he looked in through the small kitchen window at the front of the residence. After five minutes of continued knocking and still no response, Jones crouched down and opened the letterbox to peer inside. From
his viewpoint, he had sight of the majority of the flat, including the hallway and most of the lounge. There was no sign of Shaw anywhere.

  Next, they tried the neighbour’s door, which was answered by an elderly woman who Jones put in her mid- to late-seventies.

  ‘Yes?’ she said, opening the door without the use of a security chain.

  ‘We’re from the police, ma’am,’ said Jones as they both presented their IDs. ‘Do you know your neighbour, Miss Shaw, at all?’

  ‘Cindy? Oh yes, she’s a lovely girl,’ said the lady with a warm smile.

  ‘We’re trying to contact her but there’s no answer.’

  ‘She’s probably at work. She usually sets off about eight each morning.’

  ‘She was supposed to meet us for an appointment first thing, but she didn’t show. We just want to check she's ok.’

  The old lady raised her finger. ‘I have a spare key. I won’t be a second.’

  She returned a moment later, holding the Chubb-lock key in her grip with purpose. ‘She gave me it in case of emergency. She was burgled not too long since, and I think she felt safer knowing someone else could get in if she was in trouble.’ The lady moved the short distance to Shaw’s front door and rattled the key in the lock. ‘Now, I’ll have to stay with you. I wouldn’t feel right letting you in on your own.’

  Jones opened his mouth to protest but, seeing the steely look in the woman’s eyes, he decided against it. ‘Very well, Ma’am, but for your own safety, we’ll need you to stay out here by the front door.’

  She nodded her agreement and opened the door.

  Jones stepped inside and took point.

  The flat was deadly silent. As they moved through the various rooms, they found no sign of Shaw – but no indication of foul play either.

  ‘Do you think she’s done a runner?’ asked Bovalino.

  ‘Check the bedroom, see if any of her stuff is missing,’ said Jones.

  ‘Got ya.’

  ‘Is this to do with her husband, Steven?’ asked the lady in a loud voice, from her position by the front door.