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

Karen touched again, and the picture switched to the corridor camera.

Iskra Kolarov was walking toward the camera, carrying her red box of potions and sprays, smiled at the technology, as she always did, because she knew someone somewhere would be watching, and her mother always said that people, especially foreigners, liked pretty girls to smile.

‘Brilliant,’ said Walter. ‘So where are the pictures from Saturday?’

Fact was, he already knew the answer.

‘There aren’t any,’ admitted Karen. ‘System down.’

‘Fuck!’ said Gibbons, louder than he intended.

Mrs West glanced round over her shoulder and stared at him as if she had stood in dog muck.

Ricky at the back butted in, ‘I’d just like to say that the failed software was nothing to do with the Constructor System. Nothing to do with Hytec at all.’

‘We appreciate that,’ said Mrs West, glancing round and smiling at Ricky, like a mother to a favourite son.

Karen again, ‘The body was found by Iskra Kolarov, the Bulgarian girl, that’s the girl you just saw in the corridor.’

‘She legal?’ asked Hector.

‘She is,’ confirmed Walter.

‘It was Iskra,’ continued Karen, ‘who threw up over Luke’s face.’

Karen saw several of them grimace.

‘Who else works at the Red Rose?’ asked Mrs West.

‘Jack Heale, the manager, Mary McGrory, room supervisor, Mary Hussein on reception, and a small army of part-timers and temps who come and go,’ said Karen.

Mrs West continued. ‘Surely one of them must have seen two, maybe more, strangers entering the hotel, carrying a large and threatening looking implement.’

‘It would seem not, ma’am.’

‘Could have been in a case,’ said Hector.

‘It could. Probably was. Carry on,’ said Walter.

Karen bobbed her head and moved on to the post mortem.

‘The head was decapitated by one single blow.’

More gory photographs, and then a brief sight of the PM report itself, magnified so that it was almost as tall as Karen.

Most of them scanned it, looking for clues or inspiration, but none were forthcoming.

‘So,’ said Karen, ‘we are now investigating the murder of the murderer we were originally seeking.’

‘That’s about the size of it,’ said Mrs West.

‘More importantly,’ said Walter, ‘we still don’t know what this is all about. We don’t know why Luke was taking pot-shots at Player and Swaythling, and we don’t know why Luke was then killed.’

‘It looks drug orientated to me,’ said Hector.

‘It may look like it,’ said Karen, ‘but there is no history of drugs or drug dealing involving Player, Swaythling, or Flowers.’

‘So how did Flowers make his living?’ asked Mrs West.

For the moment the monster seemed to be out of the loop.

‘It’s possible that he was paid for carrying out the killing,’ suggested Walter.

‘A hit man,’ added Gibbons.

‘Don’t like the term,’ said Walter, ‘but that seems likely.’

‘Unless he was into software piracy in a big way,’ suggested WPC Jenny Thompson.

‘I think he’d left that gig behind long ago,’ said Gibbons, ‘not enough cash in it, if you ask me.’

Ricky joined in from the back.

‘Software piracy is a big problem, and some business software can easily cost £20,000 or £30,000 a pop.’

They all turned round and gawped at the systems rep who had suddenly become part of the investigation team.

‘Thank you, Ricky,’ said Mrs West, smiling at him. ‘That’s very useful. Anything else you can tell us.’

‘Comes in from China usually. Worth big bucks, but it is very specialised. You’d need to have contacts in big business. It’s not an easy thing to sell,’ and then he added a rider, suddenly aware that all eyes were on him, ‘I would imagine.’

‘This thing is not about software,’ said Walter. ‘There was none in Luke’s flat. He had left that behind. It’s something to do with Neil Swaythling.’

‘But what?’ asked Mrs West.

‘I don’t know,’ said Walter, ‘but I have closed down the Neil Swaythling protection programme and sent him home.’

Mrs West nodded, happy to have that unnecessary expense off the book.

‘So if it’s not drug related, and it’s not software piracy, what is it about?’ asked Gibbons.

‘Non payment of loans?’ suggested Karen, back on the monster, bringing up new faces, Langley Wells and his three monkeys of sons.

‘That’s more like it,’ said Walter. ‘And Neil Swaythling’s father could still be involved in this somewhere.’

More monster prods and Gerry Swaythling’s still picture appeared, not a great shot, and then more video, taken by Jenny and Hector from the solicitor’s office opposite the Masonic Lodge, Gerry grinning and going inside.

Gibbons recognised the location, suddenly looked uncomfortable, realised his pics could be up there next. Karen noted that well enough.

‘So where do we go from here?’ asked Mrs West.

‘I want everyone to lean on any contacts they might have,’ said Walter. ‘Go round the lowlife pubs and clubs tonight, we all know which ones they are, put a bit of pressure on, all we want to know is what this is all about. Discover the cause, and we’ll find the killers.’

‘Good,’ said Mrs West, turning round and smiling at Ricky again. ‘Thank you, Ricky,’ she said. ‘Very nice.’

‘Anyone anything else they’d like to add?’ asked Karen.

‘What else can this thing do?’ asked Gibbons.

She was happy to demonstrate, as was Ricky, grinning at the thought of her showing it off. She brought up a map of Britain, touched on Chester. The map zoomed in. ‘Give me an address,’ she said.

‘Percy Road, Handbridge,’ said Jenny.

In a matter of seconds the map located the road.

‘It can bring up in moments any street map from any town in the UK. Works on speech recognition. It’s amazing.’

‘Pity it’s not actual pictures,’ said Hector Browne.

Karen grinned. Touched an icon and the map on the screen switched from map format to the view of Percy Road from space. Karen zoomed in until the roof tiles on an individual house were clearly visible.

‘Fucking hell!’ said an obviously impressed Gibbons.

‘Mind your language!’ said Mrs West.

‘You can bring up actual pictures of any street, any house, any pub, any factory, any river, field, bridge, forest, mountain, church, graveyard, in Britain, any time you want, you name it.’

‘Can you put up the Red Rose Motel?’ asked Walter.

‘Sure, Guv,’ said Karen,