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

From the back of the room it looked like a huge white rectangle, like a half or quarter size cinema screen, but the difference was, it was alive. In the past whenever a presentation was made, or when a case update was required, they would do what they had always done, what every police department throughout the country did. They would use the white board and felt tip pen method, stick photos and diagrams and names up there for everyone to see, and comment on.

No longer the case, not with the monster.

The monster would handle everything.

Joan West had badgered Walter into leading the opening presentation, but he had sidestepped that date by promptly giving the day to Karen. Walter wasn’t averse to technology; he could appreciate what it could offer, and he would use it too, but was happier still if he wasn’t the driver.

She grasped the opportunity, as he always knew she would. When does a confident and striking blonde not want to be the centre of attention? Rarely, if ever, in his experience. Everyone was there, no one wanted to miss the coming of the thing.

Karen stared round at the throng and seized her moment.

Stood up before them, the monster to her left shoulder, smiled and said, ‘Welcome to the monster.’

Ricky, the Hytec rep, who was sitting on a desk at the back, had made a big effort to get there on time, jumped up and said, ‘It’s the Constructor System. Can we please call it by its correct name?’

Everyone glanced back at him without comment; then back to Karen, who was gazing at the slight Ricky. He tried a smile and actually winked, no chance, and then she began again.

‘The Constructor System,’ and she beckoned toward it, and did a cute little curtsey.

The crowded room applauded.

‘All right,’ said Walter, ‘Let’s be getting on with it.’

‘Luke Flowers,’ she said, and she touched a tiny thumbnail photo of Luke that was in the border of the screen that only she could see; then touched the centre of the white mass and an instant colour pic of Luke appeared. It was an old pic taken from when he’d been in trouble years before, flogging counterfeit software. She tapped his face twice and the pic grew larger, left her finger on it and the pic grew smaller until it was just as she wanted.

‘Previously wanted for the murder of Jeffrey Player, and the attempted murder of Neil Swaythling.’

Two more touches, two more colour pics on the screen, headshots, lined up together like the defence in a sports team.

‘But no more,’ and she made a downward sweeping motion on each of the pics, and they fell to the floor of the screen. ‘Because yesterday, Luke’s decapitated body was discovered rammed down a lavatory in room fifty at the Red Rose Motel.’

More touches on thumbnails, more commands, and the monster produced six enlarged full colour pics of Luke’s head, and his headless body, nothing spared, some taken in the hotel, some from the prelim report. She zoomed in and out on three of them to demonstrate what she, and the monster, could do.

Karen noted the grimacing faces and soft hum of conversation as people shifted in their seats. Some of the younger ones had never seen a decapitated body before, so much blood, and some of them had never seen a murder victim either. There was quadraphonic sound too, Doctor Sara Carney’s commentary as she’d carried out the post mortem.

Karen again, ‘The time of the killing has been estimated at between 3pm and 4pm, Saturday just gone.’

More touches and documents appeared supporting the ToD, but not big enough to make any sense to those watching, not readable, more touches and the documents were so huge that even Ricky at the back could read every last word.

It was going well. He liked it, and grinned at Karen, as she tried hard to ignore him.

Then she was talking again. She was a good presenter, Walter wasn’t alone in thinking that, and easy on the eye, and Ricky wasn’t alone in thinking that.

‘Luke Flowers was held down on the bed and killed by a single blow from a sword, machete, axe, or meat industry implement.’

‘How do we know he was held down?’ asked Gibbons.

Walter thought that a planted question because Karen gobbled it up. Brought two new pics to the audience’s attention. Luke’s bare shoulders, head obvious by its absence, two sets of bruises of fingers, one on the back of either shoulder, two matching heavy thumb bruises closer to the shoulder blades.

‘A man’s hand,’ she said. ‘Medium sized, strong, holding him down. One restraining the victim, one delivering the blow, a minimum of two people, busy carrying out murder.’

‘Don’t suppose we can get any fingerprints from that?’ suggested one of the younger women.

Several of the men laughed aloud.

Hector Browne said, ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

Ricky intervened.

‘That is a very good question, and the answer is not yet, but we are working hard on that, and by next year with the latest enhancements we should be able to reconstruct usable fingerprints from bruises.’

‘They wouldn’t be allowed in any court of law,’ said Gibbons.

‘They could still help trap a killer,’ muttered Walter.

‘Precisely,’ said Chief Superintendent Joan West, not wishing to be left out, and hoping to justify the enormous expense of Hytec’s Corps Constructor System, as she would always refer to it.

Walter nodded Karen on.

‘The motel room was booked in the name of Larry King – an obvious false name. He had booked the room many times before, always insisted on room fifty for reasons of his own, and always paid in cash.’

‘Any luck with CCTV?’ asked Walter.

Karen beamed and said, ‘Glad you asked.’

More soft touches, and a picture of the scene outside the Red Rose Motel flashed up. A car pulled in and ran across the screen. The system was live in real time, showing what was happening at the Red Rose at that exact moment.

‘Wowser!’ said