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

so, Guv. I think you will find that it is the girl who ends up the victim of an honour killing, or slaughtering, to give it its correct title. I have never heard of a boy being killed, and certainly not an English boy.’

‘I don’t mean that.’

‘So what do you mean?’

‘I mean could he have become involved with a girl from a different tribe?’

‘You mean a different colour?’

‘I don’t know what I mean, just different, and the elders in the tribe, whatever that tribe may be, took offence, maybe gave him a warning, a warning he didn’t heed, and the next thing is they fix up a meet at a regular place, and he runs along there pretty damn quick.’

‘Like the Red Rose?’

Walter bobbed his head and said, ‘And the CCTV mysteriously goes on strike that very afternoon.’

‘And the CCTV is controlled by another who is partly from a different tribe.’

‘You got it.’

‘You could be on to something. Shall we pull in Mary Hussein and put it to her?’

‘Not yet. I want you to ring Manchester. Get them to email over a copy of the odontogram.’

‘The tooth map, right?’

‘You got it.’

‘You don’t think the dead girl in Manchester has something to do with Luke Flowers as well, do you?’

‘Not especially, but I am curious.’

‘Bit of a long shot.’

‘Have you got anything better?’

‘Only Jermaine Keating.’

‘And he is out of the country.’

‘So they say. I am on it, Guv.’

AHMED BUZZED THE PHONE downstairs. The floor manager answered.

‘Send up Wazir, Maaz, and Mohammed, right away. The women are not to come!’

‘Yes, Mister Khan.’

A few moments later and the men drifted in. Maaz first, Mohammed immediately behind, and Wazir a full minute later, newly shaven, but puffing and panting, after climbing those stairs he had only recently descended.

‘What’s this all about?’ asked Mohammed, sitting on the sofa, ‘we are awfully busy.’

‘I can guess,’ whispered Maaz, perching on the arm.

‘Close the door, father,’ said Ahmed to Wazir, who carefully did as he was asked, and then almost collapsed into his favourite armchair.

He was breathing real heavy.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Ahmed.

‘Short of breath, those damned stairs.’

‘Perhaps we should get the old man a stairlift,’ suggested Maaz, ‘I’d use it too.’

‘Quiet, boy!’ said Mohammed.

Wazir waved his hand across his face as if the idea was preposterous. An unnecessary expense he would never countenance.

‘So what’s this all about?’ said Mohammed again.

‘I have had a call from Imam Sabir.’

‘What about this time?’ said Mohammed, irritably.

‘Sahira, she did not arrive in Chitral.’

‘What? Who says?’ said Wazir.

‘The Imam, he is adamant, the warlord does not have the wife he paid good money for, and he is not a happy man.’

Maaz grinned, wanted to laugh.

Wazir glanced across at Mohammed and the kid. Didn’t like what he saw. He could recognise secrets... and guilt, when he saw it.

‘What have you done with her?’ Wazir asked.

Ahmed glanced at his father, not comprehending, not seeing what his father had seen, then back to the others.

‘What have you done with her?’ repeated Wazir again, louder this time.

‘Keep your voice down,’ said Ahmed, glancing at the door.

‘Done nothing,’ grinned Maaz. ‘The worthless bitch went off on the Pakistan flight as planned, didn’t she dad?’

They all stared at Mohammed as if for confirmation.

It wasn’t forthcoming.

Mohammed shook his head from side to side, and began to cry.

‘YOU’LL HAVE THE TOOTH fairy map within the hour,’ said Karen. ‘What are you going to do with it?’

‘As I am sure you know there isn’t a national odontological database, there isn’t even a national fingerprint database for all citizens, come to that, so we have no chance with teeth, and even if there were, with so many people never visiting a dentist these days, it wouldn’t be worth a great deal.’

‘So what are you saying?’

‘I want you to make copies of the tooth map and first thing Monday get the team round every local dentist and ask them, plead with them, order them if necessary, to check if the map matches any of their clients.’

‘Do you expect it to?’

‘No, not really, but it would be nice if it did.’

‘How many dentists do you think there are in and around Chester?’

‘About a hundred and fifty.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Just looked it up in Yellow Pages. There’s a hundred and thirty plus listed in there, so one fifty would seem a reasonable guess.’

‘I’ll make two hundred copies, that should be enough.’

‘Yeah, do that, and don’t forget to speak to Liverpool City Football Club.’

‘I won’t, and can I get off after that?’

‘Sure, have a good lunch.’

‘I intend to.’

Forty-Three

Ahmed shifted in his chair. Mohammed was still snivelling. ‘Can someone please tell me what is going on?’ said Ahmed. ‘Maaz knows,’ said Wazir, ‘and Mohammed too, judging by that performance.’ Mohammed took out his clean handkerchief and blew noisily into it. Sat back in his chair and blinked and stared guiltily at the others.

Maaz grinned and said, ‘Shall I tell them, or will you, father?’

‘Mohammed!’ yelled Ahmed, reprimandingly, just as he had when Mohammed was a little boy. ‘Explain yourself, and do it now!’

Mohammed sniffed and took a breath and began.

‘We were taking her to the airport as we planned.’

‘And?’

‘We didn’t get there.’

‘Why not?’

‘I wanted to frighten her.’

‘Don’t you think we had done that already?’

‘No, I mean I wanted to really frighten her.’

‘You are not making much sense,’ said Wazir.

Ahmed held up his hand and beckoned for his son to continue.

‘She had been far more wicked than you could ever have imagined.’

‘Far more wicked,’ confirmed Maaz, grinning. ‘Far more.’

‘When? How? What do you mean? How do you know this?’

‘Tell them, father. Tell them or I will. Tell them about the pictures.’

‘What’s the boy talking about?’ asked an increasingly irritated Wazir.

‘What pictures?’ asked Ahmed.

‘On the mobile phone,’ spluttered Mohammed.

‘Of Sahira?’ asked Ahmed.

Mohammed bobbed his head.

Maaz giggled.

‘Shut up, boy, or by God...’ said Mohammed.

‘Ignore the boy!’ advised Wazir.

‘Compromising pictures?’ asked Ahmed.

‘You can say that again!’ said Maaz.

‘Yes,’ said Mohammed. ‘The very worst kind of pictures you could imagine, and she wasn’t alone.’

‘What