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

today, between the lockup garages at the back of the flats, one young man, here’s his picture,’ and he passed the latest photofit to them. ‘Four shots, all struck Neil on the bulletproof vest. He was very lucky.’

‘Oh my God,’ wept Holly.

‘You are upsetting my wife!’ said Gerry.

‘It’s all right,’ she said, glancing up at him again. ‘We need to know what’s happened; we need to help if we can.’

‘Have either of you seen this man before?’

They both stared at the picture and shook their heads.

‘Neil says it’s a very close likeness,’ said Karen. ‘Are you certain?’

‘Course we are!’

‘And Neil doesn’t know him either?’ asked Holly.

‘He says not.’

‘This is drugs related, I’ll bet!’ said Gerry.

‘Neil doesn’t do drugs!’ said Holly. ‘You know that.’

‘He insists he’s not into drugs,’ added Karen.

‘That’s what I said!’ said Holly.

Neil’s mother gazed down at the picture of the neat young man staring back.

‘Why are you doing this?’ she whispered. ‘You evil, evil boy.’

‘There is something else you need to know,’ said Walter.

‘Go on!’ said Gerry.

‘We have agreed with Neil that the press release will say that he was killed in the shooting.’

‘What! Oh no!’ grimaced Holly.

‘That way we believe the killer will think he has done what he set out to do,’ said Walter.

‘Seems sensible to me,’ said Gerry.

‘But...’ said Holly.

Walter interrupted her. ‘People are bound to ring you up for news. We don’t want you to tell them he is alive and well.’

‘Why ever not?’ asked Holly, nearing the end of her tether.

Gerry answered the question. ‘Because the police believe that it might alert the killer, and he might try all over again.’

‘Correct,’ said Walter.

‘But our friends wouldn’t do anything like that!’ she insisted.

‘We don’t know that,’ said Gerry. ‘Not for certain.’

‘And you promise me he is quite well?’ said Holly, turning back to Walter.

‘Of course,’ said Karen, ‘he’s fine, you can talk to him later on the phone.’

Walter clarified. ‘He is a bit shaken up, anyone would be, badly bruised, and I’m sure he’ll feel rotten for a few days, but he’s been to hospital for a complete checkup and they don’t need to keep him in. That’s the main thing.’

Holly smiled nervously at the thought.

In the next instant they all became aware of phones ringing through the house. The Filipina came running, ‘Sorry to bother, but I getting calls, say Neil dead, what I say?’

Walter shared a look with Gerry. He nodded briskly and said, ‘I’ll take the calls, Hilario, put them through to me.’

‘Thank you,’ said Walter, nodding, ‘And don’t forget, if you can think of anything, no matter how small, please ring me at any time, and he reached forward and set a fresh card down on the light oak coffee table.

‘Thank you, Inspector,’ she said, ‘now if you don’t mind I am very tired,’ and she closed her eyes and settled back into the winged back chair.

The meeting was over.

Gerry came back to the hall as they were on the way out.

‘Condolence calls,’ he said.

‘First of many, I would think,’ said Walter.

‘And you’ll get Neil to ring his mother?’

‘We will, probably be later this evening,’ said Karen.

‘We’ll let you know if there are any developments,’ said Walter.

Gerry nodded his head and opened the front door and let them out, then watched the woman sergeant walk away toward the opening gates.

A MINUTE LATER BACK in the car Karen said, ‘Well, what did you make of that?’

‘The mother knows something.’

‘That’s what I thought.’

‘What do you make of him?’

‘Flighty bugger, if you ask me,’ said Karen.

‘He liked you.’

‘I think he likes women, full stop. Like father, like son.’

‘We’ll pay another visit tomorrow, when Gerry’s at work.’

‘OK, Guv.’

‘In the meantime, find out everything you can about Veronica Camberwell. Where she lives, where the money came from, where and what her husband’s business was, and see if you can find any link to Gerry Swaythling.’

‘OK, Guv. So who was the glamorous blonde, do you think? I’m surprised you didn’t ask about her.’

‘I want to do that tomorrow, when he’s not there.’

‘Gotcha.’

‘Come on; let’s get back to the station. Time’s marching on.’

THEY HAD ONLY BEEN back in the office a matter of minutes when Walter took a call. He glanced up at the clock. Half past nine. He thought he was getting hungry. A woman’s voice.

‘Inspector Darriteau?’

‘Yes. Who’s this?’

‘Gardenia Floem. Remember me?’

‘How could I possibly forget?’

‘Would you like to make any comment on reports that Neil Swaythling was shot dead this afternoon?’

‘Would you like to tell me where you received such information?’

Gardenia laughed, girlishly, and said, ‘You know us journalists, never reveal our sources.’

‘Speak to the press office, they’ll fill you in.’

‘But is it true?’

‘Speak to the press office.’

‘Just a simple yes or no would do.’

‘Ditto.’

She laughed again. She had a nice laugh.

‘Are you any nearer to finding the killer?’

‘Mizz Floem, I am very busy. The press office will give you everything we have.’

‘Even I don’t believe that.’

Karen came back and stood beside the desk. She’d freshened up. She touched his shoulder and softly said, ‘Is it OK if I get off?’

Walter nodded and shouted after her, ‘See you in the morning.’

‘Do you mean me?’ said Gardenia.

‘No, I did not mean you, now I really must go.’

‘I’ll ring you tomorrow.’

‘I’d rather you didn’t.’

‘Funnily enough, lots of people say that,’ she said, still giggling.

‘I can believe that too. Goodnight, Mizz Floem,’ and he put the phone down before she could say anything else.

MUCH LATER AFTER HE’D climbed into bed he was still thinking of the case. He knew he wouldn’t get much sleep; he never did when a difficult case was ongoing. He’d keep pulling all the facts apart and putting them back together in different order, hoping that something might stick out.

It sometimes did.

It hadn’t yet.

He thought of poor Jeffrey Player and wondered what the last thoughts were that gushed through his head before he was shot dead, the moment he saw the killer raise the gun, point at his heart, and fire. What had he been thinking of?