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

‘I feel like I’ve been run over by a steamroller.’

‘Here, take my arm,’ and she helped him into the back of the car.

Neil collapsed into the back seat.

‘Where did he get you?’ asked Gibbons.

‘Heart, chest, all over.’

‘Those new Kevlar bullet proof vests are the business,’ said Gibbons.

‘Made from oil, weight for weight seven times stronger than steel,’ said Karen, ‘Good job you put it on.’

‘Good job he didn’t shoot you in the face,’ said Gibbons.

‘Good job he didn’t shoot me in the balls,’ muttered Neil.

‘Yeah, that too,’ said Gibbons.

Karen grinned as they cruised down the jigger, as the first of the evening worker bees was coming home from work.

Five minutes later and they were back at the station.

Walter jumped from his chair and went toward the kid. Took his arm and eased him into his own chair.

‘Take it easy,’ he said. ‘We’ll have a quick chat, and then we’ll get you to the hospital for a thorough checkup.’

Neil bobbed his head and managed a brave smile.

Walter clarified: ‘You had definitely never seen the guy before?’

‘No! Never.’

‘Did he say anything?’

‘Yeah, something like: Hey Neil, I think you forgot these.’

‘And you turned round?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Local accent?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Did he say anything else?’

‘Not that I remember.’

‘What was he wearing?’

‘Grey slacks, white polo shirt, short lightweight jacket.’

‘What colour?’

‘Beige, I think.’

‘And the photofits, how accurate are they?’

Neil glanced down at the pics that Walter had laid out on his desk. Neil pursed his lips and said, ‘Pretty good, that’s the best one, for sure,’ he said, pointing at Nug’s result.

Walter bobbed his head. ‘We’ll go with that one. Gibbons, get this pic out to all stations. Man wanted for murder. Airports as well, just in case he’s doing a runner.’

Gibbons grabbed the pic and took it away for distribution.

‘Do you want a coffee?’ asked Karen.

Neil shook his head.

‘Tell me about your lady friend?’ asked Walter.

‘I don’t want her involved.’

‘She might already be involved.’

‘She isn’t, I tell ya.’

‘And she’s loaded?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Where did she get the money?’

‘Her husband had his own business. He was much older than her. They went on holiday to Miami; it was during a heat wave. He collapsed and died from a heart attack on the quayside. She inherited the business, plenty of cash in the bank, by all accounts.’

‘What kind of business?’

‘No idea.’

‘And now she’s a lady of leisure?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Where did you meet her?’ asked Karen.

‘At the Greenfield Country Club, in the disco, she came over to me and grabbed my hand and tugged me onto the dance floor. We just seemed to hit it off.’

‘How old is she?’ asked Gibbons.

‘Age doesn’t matter.’

‘Maybe not,’ said Walter, ‘but what are we talking here?’

‘Forty-three.’

‘That’s freaking old,’ said Gibbons.

‘Excuse me,’ said Walter, ‘but that’s young!’ and he shared a smile with Neil.

‘Look!’ Neil said, then stopped as if thinking of his words, as if pondering on whether to say any more, ‘I’ve had dozens of girls, maybe hundreds,’ Karen thought to herself, I told you that, Walter, but didn’t say, as Neil continued, ‘but I have never met anyone like Veronica. I love her to bits, and I want to marry her.’

Karen glanced across at him. He sure looked cut up about something. Gibbons thought him a stupid prat.

‘And your parents don’t like the idea?’ said Walter.

‘They hate the idea, hate her, threatened to disinherit me.’

‘We’d still like to talk to her,’ said Walter.

‘Nope! I don’t want her involved.’

‘All right, we’ll leave that for the moment, but I want you to do something else for me?’ said Walter.

‘If I’d done what you suggested before I wouldn’t be in this mess.’

‘True, but forget about that. Will you do what we want this time?’

‘Yeah, you name it, so long as it doesn’t involve her, and just so long as you nail the bastard.’

‘That’s the aim,’ said Karen.

‘OK,’ said Walter. ‘This is what I want you to do.’

Seven

The Swaythling’s house was situated on a hill high above the River Dee. It was a striking new property set between the road and the escarpment that dropped sharply away down toward the river. It was built in traditional style, gables and tall chimneystacks, but using every modern material and intelligence available.

Blackened windows like you see in people carriers to abolish the need for blinds and lace curtains, silver framed windows, self cleaning glass, smooth Cotswold stone appearance, though it was certainly not built of stone.

It wasn’t on the grand scale of the palaces that Swaythling constructed for his clients, even Gerry Swaythling couldn’t yet afford that, but it was a huge and striking property. Walter and Karen arrived outside at ten to eight. They drove past the house and turned round and came back.

‘Pull in here,’ he said, pointing to a disused paddock gateway on the other side of the road. From there they could see the house clearly, though it was protected by high and substantial black railings. In the centre of the railings was an electronic-controlled curved-topped set of metal gates. The tops were painted gold. The gates were firmly closed. Walter and Karen could see the intercom and digital pad set next to them, presumably for the chosen few to punch in a password and the gates would swing open.

There was a gleaming black Bentley parked on the brick paved driveway, presumably his, and a small BMW hatchback, presumably hers. Beyond that, slightly out of sight, was another vehicle, perhaps a coupé, silver by the look of it, though the evening sun was reflecting from it, making it hard to tell. Maybe Neil was at home.

‘Eh up,’ said Karen, and they both stared across the road, as a tall and slim young woman came out of the house. Tight blue jeans, short white top, flat stomach. She walked round the Bentley and the BMW and jumped in the far car. Through their open car window they could hear the soft purr of the engine starting, as the coupé eased toward the gates that automatically opened. In the next second the silver Mercedes coupé swept out onto the road