Deadly Caller: A gripping serial killer thriller (Detective Jane Phillips Book 6) Read online

‘A total bloodbath. One dead male that we can see, but we haven’t been able to get upstairs because of the position of the deceased. We’re calling in the CSIs as we speak.’

  ‘What can I do?’

  ‘Can you pull up all the information we have on file for Matthew Rice? The address is 48 Baird Lane in Lymm. See if there’s a photo ID so we can be sure he is actually our victim.

  ‘Will do.’

  ‘Can you email it through to my phone once you have it?’

  ‘Of course. I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  As Phillips ended the call, Jones reappeared. ‘What’s the ETA on Evans?’ she asked.

  ‘Within the hour, Guv.’

  ‘Ok, that’s good.’ Phillips handed him Berry’s contact details. ‘Read out that number, will you?’

  Jones obliged, and Phillips keyed the digits into her phone. A moment later, it began to ring.

  ‘Time to find out what our witness has to say.’

  3

  Later that day, back at Ashton House, Phillips gathered the core team of the Major Crimes Unit in her office. As she and Jones took seats, the man-mountain that was Bovalino wandered in, cradling a huge sandwich and chewing a large mouthful.

  ‘Eating again, Bov?’ Phillips chuckled in quiet admiration at the sheer volume of food it took to keep her enormous detective constable sustained daily.

  Bovalino nodded and smiled as much as he was able to without losing any of the precious quarry from his mouth, then took a seat opposite her, next to Jones,

  Entwistle was last in, carrying a Manila folder. As ever, he looked fresh, athletic, and as if he belonged on a catwalk as opposed to at a crime scene. His light brown mixed-race skin was accentuated by his crisp white shirt.

  ‘So, Whistler. Have you managed to find anything on Rice?’ asked Phillips, using Entwistle’s new nickname, awarded by Bovalino – a man who believed every copper should have one. It had stuck surprisingly quickly among the team, and now she found herself using it more and more often. She liked it – and so did he, it seemed.

  ‘See, I told you that nickname would stick,’ said Bovalino with a wide grin. ‘Even the guv is using it now.’

  Entwistle smiled and shook his head. ‘It could be worse, I suppose.’ He pulled out an enlarged printout of a driver’s licence, which he handed across to Phillips. ‘This is what he looks like according to the DVLA records. That picture was updated just a couple of years ago.’

  Phillips stared down at the solemn face looking back at her, then presented it to Jones. ‘Looks like our guy.’

  Jones took a long look. ‘Yep. That’s him.’

  Entwistle placed the folder on Phillips’s desk before hitching his buttocks onto a cabinet a few feet away. ‘Well, in that case, our victim is Matthew Joseph Rice, aged forty-seven. He’s lived at that address for over fifteen years, and has a mortgage on it with ten years left on the term. According to council tax records, he lives alone, and as far as I can see from his social media profiles, he’s single, but also very sociable.’

  Phillips leafed through the documents in the file.

  ‘Any kind of record?’ asked Jones.

  ‘Nothing. Spotless.’

  ‘So, what did he do for work?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘He was the chief financial officer for a company called Ardent Technologies Ltd. based out of Stockport. They’re into construction, from what I can tell, and the address is in the file. I’m sorry it’s just top-line info at the moment, Guv, but with time I should be able to get a lot more.’

  ‘No, no, this is good.’ Phillips closed the file. ‘Ok. So, just before Jones and I left Rice’s place, I spoke to our so-called witness, Antonia Berry.’

  ‘How was she?’ asked Bovalino.

  ‘Quite shaken, to be honest. She couldn’t see what happened because of the position of the laptop camera, but it sounds like she heard the attack in all its glory. She describes a pretty standard business meeting, via a Zoom call, before Rice broke away to answer the door. There were raised voices, followed by someone screaming repeatedly before everything went silent. She panicked and began asking Rice if he was ok, but got no response. A few moments later, someone closed the laptop, ending the call.’

  ‘Did she see who it was?’ asked Entwistle.

  ‘No. The killer was smart enough to not be caught on camera,’ said Phillips. ‘Plus, we believe they also nicked the laptop.’

  Jones cut in. ‘But not that smart. They did leave behind a shitload of bloody footprints at the scene. Forensics are doing a full sweep of the place as we speak.’

  ‘That’s right,’ added Phillips. ‘Evans called us in the car when we were on our way back here. He’d done a full sweep of the house and confirmed Rice was the only person there, which is what we expected, to be honest. And having witnessed the scene for ourselves, it looks as if all the action happened at the front door.’

  The room fell silent for a moment as the team processed the information.

  ‘So, from our initial intel, it seems Rice answered the door without any obvious caution, was fatally stabbed on the doorstep in broad daylight, then left for dead as our perp entered the property and removed his laptop.’

  ‘However,’ Jones cut in, ‘they did leave the power cable behind, so we can assume they left in a hurry.’

  ‘Or they know their tech-kit and realised it wasn’t worth the hassle of carrying it,’ said Entwistle. ‘Most standard power cables are interchangeable these days, or at the very least you can pick them up for almost nothing on Amazon.’

  Phillips nodded. ‘The question is, what was on that laptop that was so important?’ She reopened the Manila file and, a second later, scribbled down the address she was looking for on a Post-it note, then stood. ‘Bovalino. Can you find out Rice’s next of kin and organise a uniform team to break the news?’

  ‘Sure, Guv,’

  ‘Whistler, get me a full background on Rice, will you?’

  ‘On it.’

  Phillips turned her attention to Jones now. ‘Let’s take a trip out to Ardent’s offices, see what they can tell us about Mr Rice and what, if anything, on that laptop was worth killing him for.’

  Phillips and Jones had worked together for so many years now, they had no issue with long moments of silence between them. In fact, the quiet time served a valuable purpose, allowing them to think, to process the intricacies of their, very often, complex investigations.

  As they made the thirty-minute journey to Ardent Technologies, Phillips stared out of the window and tried to imagine the last moments of Matthew Rice’s life. Her mind was awash with questions: was he aware of the danger he faced before that fateful knock interrupted his call with Antonia Berry? Had he recognised his killer, or were they looking at a stranger murder? And was the content of his laptop worth killing for?

  Right now, they had very little to go on, but she knew – as she always did – that in the days that followed, her team would do whatever it took to find the answers she was looking for.

  Her mind was drawn back to the present as Jones pulled into the car park of Ardent Technologies headquarters, comprised of a cluster of large, modern buildings on an industrial site in the town of Stockport, seven miles south of Manchester city centre.

  After parking up in a visitor’s bay, they followed the signs to the main office reception, where they were greeted by a smartly presented receptionist who appeared efficient, if a little dour.

  Phillips flashed her identification. ‘We’d like to speak to someone in charge, please.’

  The woman behind the desk raised an eyebrow, then pointed to a large sofa to the side of the reception area. ‘If you’d like to take a seat, I’ll see who is available.’

  Phillips and Jones followed her instructions and a few minutes later, a blonde-haired woman strode towards them with a wide, fixed grin. Surprisingly tall, her long limbs were accentuated by her navy trouser suit.

  Phillips and Jones stood as she approached.

  ‘I’m Ch
erie Howard, the marketing director. How can I help?’ she said, offering her outstretched hand.

  Phillips shook it firmly, then presented her ID. ‘Is there somewhere private we can speak?’

  Howard’s brow furrowed. ‘Er, yes. We can use one of the conference rooms,’ she said, and gestured for them to follow her.

  A few moments later, Phillips and Jones were led into a spacious room replete with a large, polished wood table surrounded by executive chairs. The motion-triggered lights flickered to life as they entered, illuminating the almost chilly air-conditioned room.

  ‘Can I get you a tea or a coffee?’ asked Howard, taking a seat.

  ‘Not for me, thanks,’ said Phillips as she sat.

  Jones shook his head, following her lead. ‘I’m fine too, thank you,’ he said. He placed his open notepad and pen on the table.

  ‘So, how can I help you?’

  ‘We understand Matthew Rice is listed as a director here?’ said Phillips.

  Howard flinched slightly. ‘Matthew? That’s right, but why do you ask?’

  Phillips sat forward in her seat. ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Ms Howard, but Matthew is dead.’

  Howard’s eyes bulged and her mouth fell open. ‘What?’

  ‘His body was found at his home in Lymm this morning. He’d been stabbed to death, and we think he was murdered.’

  ‘I don’t believe it!’

  Phillips continued. ‘As we understand it, he was on a video call with one of your suppliers, an Antonia Berry from Edinburgh.’

  ‘I know the name, but I’ve never met her,’ said Howard, clearly still in shock.

  ‘We believe that whoever killed Matthew stole his laptop. We wondered if there was anything on it that might explain why he was murdered?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘No business secrets. Valuable information?’

  ‘I very much doubt it,’ said Howard. ‘I mean, we make industrial foam for the construction industry, which is all very standard stuff. We own the patent outright, so it’s totally copyright protected. Plus, it’s in the public domain, so it’s no secret how we make the stuff, either.’

  ‘I see,’ said Phillips. ‘We understand Matthew was Ardent’s chief financial officer?’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘What did that entail, exactly?’

  ‘Erm, well. As the title suggests, he was in charge of all the finances, including procurement and negotiating contracts with suppliers,’ said Howard.

  ‘Was he well liked?’ asked Jones.

  Howard shrugged her shoulders slightly. ‘Yes, I guess so. He was widely known as a tough negotiator, but at the same time was charming and very easy to be around.’

  ‘Do you know if he was single? Girlfriend, boyfriend, maybe?’ Phillips said.

  Howard released a sardonic chortle. ‘Matthew was very much a ladies’ man. He seemed to have a new girl every week, but none of them ever came to anything. Probably because he had a thing for married women.’

  Phillips raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh?’

  ‘He said there was less chance of them getting serious on him. Plus, I got the impression he enjoyed the clandestine nature of affairs. Liked the excitement of sneaking around.’

  Jones scribbled in his notepad.

  ‘Were you two close?’ asked Phillips.

  ‘Not particularly. We worked well together in a business sense, but our lives outside of work were very different, and we had little in common.’

  Phillips nodded, then changed tack. ‘You mentioned you make industrial foam here for the construction industry. What’s that used in?’

  ‘Well, it’s rapidly replacing the use of concrete in high-rise buildings. It’s ten times lighter than the traditional mix, which makes lifting it into position at height much easier, but with the added advantage that it’s just as strong as concrete and steel. Plus, it’s more eco-friendly to manufacture. We ship it to markets all over the world, such as the US, China, and more recently, the Gulf states and South East Asia. Not bad for a small business set up in Stockport.’

  ‘Very impressive,’ said Phillips. ‘So, who owns Ardent? Who calls the shots here?’

  ‘We have a board of directors, which is made up of the four partners: Lesley Bailey, the CEO and founding partner, David Nelson, partner and managing director, me as marketing director and partner, and Matthew…’ Her words tailed off.

  Phillips cut in. ‘So, Matthew was a partner too?’

  Howard nodded as she bit her bottom lip.

  ‘I know this is a lot to take in.’

  ‘Like I said, we weren’t close, but it’s still come as a shock.’

  ‘I’m sure it has. I just have a few more questions, if that’s ok?’

  Howard took a deep breath in through her nose. ‘Yes. Whatever I can do to help.’

  ‘Can you tell me when you last spoke with Matthew?’

  Howard took a moment to think. ‘Erm, it would have been Monday at 10 a.m. He’d been working from home since Thursday on a special project, so I hadn’t seen him for a few days, but we always made time for a quick catch-up call at the start of the week.’

  ‘And how did he sound on the call?’

  ‘Fine. Normal, I guess.’

  ‘Can you tell me anything about the special project he was working on?’

  Howard shook her head. ‘I’m afraid it’s confidential. You’d need to speak to Lesley or David for any details on that.’

  Phillips’s eyes narrowed. ‘I thought you said there was nothing of value on Matthew’s laptop?’

  Howard stalled momentarily. ‘Well, of course, the work he does has value…’ She suddenly caught herself. ‘Sorry, did have value. But what I meant was that I can’t imagine anyone would want to kill him to access the contents of his laptop. Like I said, we manufacture industrial foam.’

  Phillips stared at Howard for a long moment, trying to figure out if she was lying. She certainly didn’t appear to be, but she knew better than to write anyone off so early in an investigation. For now, she changed tack. ‘So, where can we find Lesley and David?’

  ‘Ordinarily they’d be here, but Lesley’s in London today and David is on annual leave. That’s why you got lumbered with me.’

  ‘I see. Well, in that case, I think we have everything we need for the moment.’ Phillips offered her a soft smile as she passed over her business card. ‘If you think of anything that might be relevant – any reason why someone would want to hurt Matthew or steal his laptop – call me, any time.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Howard, standing as she took the card. ‘What about Matthew’s parents? Who will tell them about what’s happened?’

  ‘It’s already been taken care of. No need for you to worry,’ Phillips said.

  Howard’s shoulders sagged and she let out a heavy sigh. ‘That’s a relief.’

  Phillips and Jones nodded in unison.

  ‘I’ll show you out,’ offered Howard.

  Once outside, as they walked side by side across the large car park to the visitors’ bays, Jones ventured a theory. ‘If he was as much of a ladies’ man as she suggested, could it have been a jealous husband?’

  ‘It’s certainly plausible, and might explain why the killer took the laptop. I mean, if it were you, would you want images or videos of Sarah sitting on another man’s computer?’

  ‘No, I bloody wouldn’t,’ Jones replied gruffly.

  Just then, Phillips’s phone beeped in her pocket, indicating she’d got an SMS. Pulling it out, she stopped in her tracks to read it.

  Jones continued walking for a moment, before turning to face her. ‘Everything all right, Guv?’

  Phillips tried her best to hide the smile on her face as she returned the phone to her pocket.

  ‘You look like the cat that got the cream,’ said Jones.

  Phillips felt her cheeks flush. ‘Shut up and get in the car, will you?’

  ‘Hot date, is it?’ he teased.

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; ‘Never you mind, Jonesy,’ said Phillips with a grin. ‘Never you mind.’

  4

  People, in general, are creatures of habit. They like routine, the comfortable, the familiar. They buy from the same shops each day, eat at the same cafes, drink at the same bars and restaurants. But – he wondered – would people be as keen to live a life so rich in routine if they knew it made them vulnerable to acts of crime?

  This morning, for example, he had waited patiently as the old lady parked up her car after returning home from her daily trip to the local shops. Parked in its usual position, her anonymous-looking vehicle was out of sight of CCTV cameras or overlooking neighbours. Both of which meant he was able to break into the car and drive it away in a matter of minutes, without being spotted. And, having studied the old lady’s habits for several days, he was also confident the vehicle would not be missed until her next trip out, at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning, by which time the car would have served its purpose.

  This evening, routine was once again playing a vital role in his activities. Right on cue, as had been the case over the last few nights, he watched his next victim leave the office at 7 p.m. sharp.

  Sitting in the stolen car, parked on the main road opposite their workplace, he switched on the ignition and prepared to follow them home. However, something different was in play tonight. Instead of walking to their car in the office car park, as normal, they walked to the main road and flagged down a black cab, then jumped in the back. A few moments later, as the taxi pulled away, he moved out into the traffic and began to follow at a safe distance.

  Driving a stolen car always presented the risk of being pulled over by the police, so, in order to minimise any unwanted attention, he was careful to stick to the speed limits as he followed the black cab for the next twenty minutes.

  Where were they going tonight, he wondered. It certainly was a break from the routine he had witnessed over the last week.

  Eventually, the cab came to a stop outside what appeared to be a trendy bar, packed with revellers standing out on the street, enjoying their drinks in the warm night air. He pulled up to the kerb a few car-lengths farther down the street and watched as they stepped out of the cab and headed for the entrance to the bar.