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

lack of anyone else, and then three more photos presumably of her parents. The same Asian guy, she was a good painter; the hard eyes were spot on, and a white woman, presumably her mother.

‘Your mum and dad?’ asked Walter.

She nodded, seemingly not over-keen on talking about that. Then she said, ‘Take a seat,’ and pointed at the armchairs.

Walter sat down, Karen stood in the hall doorway.

‘It seems too much of a coincidence to me that the CCTV went off when the killers came into the motel, and then went back on again after they had left,’ said Walter.

She shook her head, seemingly didn’t know what to say, then she said, ‘That’s what happened.’

‘Tell me about the man who booked the room?’

‘You mean the man I knew as Larry King?’

‘The very same.’

‘Not much to tell, short bloke, a little unremarkable.’

‘You didn’t find him attractive?’ asked Karen.

‘Certainly not!’

‘Lots of girls did.’

‘Well not me!’

‘Why did he want the room?’ asked Walter.

‘How should I know?’

‘Oh come on, Miss Hussein, don’t be awkward, you must wonder what your guests get up to in their rooms in the middle of the afternoon.’

‘I do not! I have far too much to do to bother with silly gossip.’

‘He wasn’t alone, was he?’ asked Karen.

‘Obviously not, someone must have killed him.’

‘We don’t mean that,’ said Walter, ‘as I think you well know.’

‘I certainly did not see anyone else come or go from that room.’

‘What about on previous visits?’ asked Karen.

‘I can’t remember.’

‘Oh, come on, do try, Miss Hussein,’ said Walter. ‘We both know he was a regular visitor, always booking in early in the afternoons, he had a girl there, didn’t he, or a woman?’

‘Mister Heale says we must always be a model of discretion, what goes on in the rooms is none of our business, I don’t know and I don’t care, I don’t pay any attention to it. I just do my job.’

‘Miss Hussein, a young man has been decapitated in your hotel,’ said Karen, gravely. ‘Aren’t you in the least bit interested in that?’

She shook her shoulders. Drew a thin brush from the pot of paints. Walter wanted to smack it from her hand. Shifted in his seat. Gazed at Karen.

‘As I said, discretion-discretion, I want to make a career in the hotel industry. If people want to get up to all sorts, that is nothing to do with me. Jack says I can go a long way in this business; says I might even land his job when he moves on to better things.’

‘Mister Heale?’ said Walter.

Mary nodded. Slipped the paintbrush back in the pot. Sensible girl.

‘Did you ever see the woman?’ asked Karen.

‘No, course not... well I must have done, but I don’t remember her. People come and go every minute of the day. After a while all the faces merge into one. I just don’t remember.’

‘Does Mister Heale, Jack, know who the woman is?’ asked Karen.

‘Pfft! How would I know? Don’t think so. You’d have to ask him.’

Walter took a card from his pocket and set it on the side of the table.

‘We are investigating a truly bloody murder, Miss Hussein. If you can think of anything that might help, or remember anything about his visitors, please call me.’

A brief pause and then she said, ‘OK,’ but it was an unconvincing reply, and they didn’t expect her to ring, and after that, she showed them out, and a minute later they were back in the car, driving back toward the station.

Forty-One

Walter changed his mind as to where they were going. ‘Take me to see Langley Wells.’ Karen said, ‘OK, Guv,’ and switched lanes in a hurry and glanced across at him and wondered what he had in mind. He was sitting back in his seat, eyes closed as if asleep. She thought better than to disturb him, and ten minutes later they were pulling to a standstill outside Langley’s house.

Walter opened his eyes. No four by fours on display. No sons home, presumably, and that was how he wanted it.  Karen buzzed the bell. Rose came to the door.

Surprised to see them.

‘What do you want?’

‘Hello, Rose. We’d like to see Langley.’

‘What about? He’s not expecting you.’

‘I want to thank him.’

‘That’ll be a first,’ she muttered, and then she said, ‘wait here,’ and she invited them into the hall and scuttled off to find her husband.

Karen imagined she could hear strident, muffled voices. Walter didn’t pick up a thing, though his hearing was not what it once was. Then Rose was back, muttering, ‘You’d better go through, you know where it is.’

Langley was sitting behind his desk, no sign of the sons, and both Walter and Karen picked up the impression of an office that had been hastily cleansed of records. The desk was pristinely clean as before, just a pot of pens, and they both wondered what spreadsheets and ledgers and paperwork had been hurriedly hidden in the previous minute.

‘Darriteau,’ said Langley, not bothering to get up. He didn’t speak to Karen, just gave her the once over. ‘What’s this all about?’

‘Hello, Langley,’ said Walter, and not waiting to be invited he sat in the guest chair. ‘I’d just thought I’d stop by and thank you.’

‘Thank me? That’s a first. Thank me for what?’

‘For putting me on to Luke Flowers.’

‘It won’t happen again, so don’t get carried away, and it didn’t do the kid any damned good, did it?’

‘That’s really what I wanted to explore.’

Langley let go a high-pitched hyena-like laugh and momentarily glanced at the ceiling. Karen fought to keep a straight face and looked away.

‘Explore? Explore what?’

‘We need to find out who carried out such a barbaric killing.’

‘Don’t look at me. It’s nothing to do with us.’

‘I’ll take your word for that, Langley, but who is it to do with?’

Langley smiled coldly.

‘If I knew I wouldn’t tell ya, but I don’t know, so I can’t. Get my drift.’

‘No hints at all?’ said Karen.

He glanced disdainfully up at the girl. Policing wasn’t a woman’s business. She should be at