The Inspector Walter Darriteau Murder Mysteries - Books 1-4 by David Carter (best finance books of all time .txt) 📕

of six feet, fit looking blokes, like rowers. The leading one, a grammar school boy judging by his accent, white skin, short mousy hair, tiny nose that looked as if it belonged on a rabbit. The other was fractionally taller, tanned, overlong straight and floppy blond hair that he adjusted with his palm, loud voice speaking poncy English, as if he couldn’t care less who heard what he had to say. Dai Williams over at Prestatyn had a name for men like him, Rodneys, he called them, and Walter could empathise with that.

They hustled through and disappeared into Mrs West’s room without knocking.

‘Who are they?’ asked Karen.

‘Dunno,’ said Walter, though he had a good idea. ‘Anything else happening?’

‘A newsagent in Boughton got attacked, some dispute over a lottery ticket.’

‘Serious?’

‘He’ll live.’

‘Anything else?’

‘A bloke at Blacon was attacked by his wife.’

‘Oh, aye?’

‘She hit him over the head with his computer gaming machine; he had to go to hospital.’

‘Poor love.’

‘You’re not really interested are you?’

‘Nope, I’m not, but I’ll tell you what does interest me.’

‘Go on.’

‘I want you to look into the deaths at Eden Leys. They’re bugging me, I can’t think of anything else. If any laws have been broken in that hellhole of a place, I want to be the man at the front of the queue asking the questions.’

‘OK, if that’s what you want.’

‘It is what I want.’

‘Where do we start?’

‘Coroner’s reports would be a good place.’

‘I’ll look at it now.’

Walter bobbed his head and tried to imagine what had gone on in Eden Leys. He’d checked their bland website, edenleys.com. Didn’t tell him much. No surprise, there. Bland exterior, bland content, bland words, but inside? Who knows what?

Mrs West’s office door opened. The two guys came out looking pleased with themselves, closed the door behind them, and marched across the room without looking round. Headed straight for the exit, and within seconds they were through and away and out of the building.

‘Correct me if I’m wrong,’ said Karen, ‘but didn’t the blond twerp have our file under his arm.’

‘Looked that way.’

‘And you’re not going to do anything about it?’

‘What do you suggest I do? Limp after him and snatch?’

Karen pursed her lips and sighed.

The phone before them burbled.

She snatched it up, said ‘Sure,’ and handed it to Walter.

‘Step inside, Walter, please,’ the voice commanded.

He didn’t answer, just set the phone down; shared a look with Karen and limped away toward the door. Once inside, she pointed to a chair and began speaking before he’d settled.

‘The Desiree Holloway case is closed.’

‘Just like that.’

‘Just like that, Walter.’

‘Who were those guys?’

‘Don’t be dim, Walter. You know the answer to that as well as I do.’

He exhaled a huge breath as if he had been holding it in all week.

‘People down there,’ and he pointed south, adjusting his arm toward Eden Leys twenty-five miles away. ‘People down there are killing innocent people, and they are getting away with it, and we don’t seem to give a toss.’

‘You can’t prove that.’

‘I could have proved it!’

‘You can’t prove it now, and that is all that matters. They have assured me nothing like that is happening today.’

‘Oh, bully beef!’

‘Don’t be rude, Walter.’

‘I am not happy about it, ma’am.’

‘There are lots of things I am not happy about, but we have to get on with it. We are a small cog in a big machine. It’s best to keep on turning as if we are well oiled. Best not to jam and screech and bugger up the works,’ and she glanced at his lips-pursed face. ‘Don’t look so offended, Walter, it’s nothing personal. We’ve put a stop to our killer. That’s the important thing, that’s what will be remembered. Let’s be thankful for that.’

She paused a moment and forced a smile and said, ‘Now, what’s next? I believe there is a problem over at a Boughton newsagent. I think you should pay them a visit and show the flag.’

Walter’s mind was still elsewhere.

‘That is all, Walter. Good morning.’

He heaved himself from the chair and muttered something she didn’t hear, and went outside.

‘Well?’ said Karen.

‘The Desiree Holloway case is closed.’

‘Can’t say as I am surprised.’

Walter sat heavy in his chair.

‘Closed but not forgotten, Greenwood. So long as I live I will monitor that place. Somewhere down the track an opportunity will arise to reopen it, and when it does, I shall be there, grinning at those responsible like the grim reaper, waggling a big stick.’

Karen smiled. She could imagine that. He was like a huge Scotty dog, and a hungry one at that.

‘Do you still want me to dig out the coroner’s reports?’

‘Not officially,’ and he winked at her.

‘Got you, Guv, leastways I think I do.’

There was a pause for thought, and then he said, ‘What are you doing later?’

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Thought we could have a few jars, celebrate the closure if you like, maybe a nice meal afterwards, my treat, on me, say Pierre’s, I love it there.’

‘Oh sorry, Guv, I can’t, not tonight, I’ve promised to cook a meal for Darren.’

‘Who’s Darren?’

‘Gibbo, Guv, Darren Gibbons, you know, our colleague.’

‘Oh, yeah, DC Darren Gibbons, he of the youth and body building muscles and a solid punch.’

‘It’s a little treat for him for coming over to my place the other night.’

Lucky Gibbo, Walter thought, but didn’t say.

‘I see. Ah well, never mind, another time, maybe.’

‘Yeah, sure, anytime, just say.’

WALTER LEFT THE OFFICE at just on seven. He ambled away and limped up the high street, bought an evening newspaper from Reg the Rag, and went into his favourite watering hole. It was a popular place and already half full. He knew people there, enough to exchange nods, and many of the drinkers recognised him from his recent TV appearances. But he was in no mood to chat. He took up his usual station at the end of the bar and ordered a pint of stout.

There was something bugging him. Sam told him he’d bribed one of his officers to release secret files. Who’d do that?