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

Gibbons said, ‘He’s guilty as hell. We’ve nailed them.’

‘Not yet,’ said Jenny. ‘There’s no proof.’

‘Guilty as sin!’ said Hector. ‘How the hell can anyone do that, murder their own sister because they don’t like who they date?’

There was a collective shrugging of shoulders as they all turned back to the monster, as Walter was asking his next question.

‘Tell me about the sword?’

‘What sword?’

‘Don’t be an idiot, Maaz,’ said Karen. ‘The ceremonial sword that we now possess.’

‘What do you want to know?’

‘We think it will prove to be the weapon that killed Luke Flowers.’

Maaz let go one of his silliest, girlish, most confident giggles.

‘I’ll bet you anything you like it isn’t!’

‘Are you a gambling man?’ asked Walter.

‘Course not, it’s against my religion.’

‘But drinking alcohol and indulging in pre-marital sex are also against your religion, but it doesn’t stop you doing that, does it, Maaz?’ said Karen.

Maaz stood up and pointed across the table and shrieked, ‘You have no idea what you are fucking talking about! Don’t you go accusing me of all sorts, you bitch!’

‘Wowser!’ said Gibbons sitting downstairs watching, ‘It’s all kicking off!’

Walter stood up and stared into the kid’s face and said, ‘Sit down, Maaz, we are not accusing you of anything. Not yet. We just want to know what happened to Sahira... and Luke.’

Maaz glared at the fat black guy, then his eyes changed down a gear, and he looked around as if he was surprised to find himself there, and sank back into his chair, and for the next few minutes he would not look at Karen at all.

Fifty-One

The sword was sent for immediate forensic examination. If they could link it to the killing of Luke Flowers the Khan family were nailed. The police were confident it would. They couldn’t wait to receive the necessary report, and while they were waiting, the questioning of Maaz Khan continued without a break.

‘How did you find out that Sahira was seeing Christians?’ asked Karen.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know!’ snarled Maaz.

‘That’s why we are asking,’ said Walter. ‘Did you see them out together?’

‘Nah!’

‘Did you listen to her telephone calls?’ asked Karen.

‘What do you think I am?’

‘So how did you know?’ asked Walter.

Maaz shook his head violently and leered again and said, ‘It was the pictures, innit.’

‘What pictures?’ said Walter and Karen, almost as one.

Maaz smiled, almost charmingly, and raised his hand and arm and pointed across the desk. ‘Ah, now you’re interested, aren’t you?’

‘Of course we are interested, Maaz,’ said Walter. ‘We are interested in everything that you have to say.’

‘What pictures?’ repeated Karen.

‘Filthy they were; porno, of my own sister.’

‘Where did you see these pictures?’ asked Walter.

‘Where do you think?’

‘On a mobile phone?’ suggested Karen.

Maaz grinned at the girl, and then looked at Walter. ‘See! She knows. Filthy bitch, been there, done that, bet she has, she knows all about it. I’ll bet if you looked at her Bookface page you’d see porno pics of her, all tastefully done of course, it’s the main use for mobile phones these days, taking filthy pictures.’

‘Is that what you do, Maaz?’ asked Karen.

Maaz ignored the question and said, ‘Ever thought of starring in a porno pic, whore-face?’

‘I don’t think it would suit me,’ said Walter.

‘Not you, old man. Blondie here, there’d be a few quid to be made with pics of her, I can tell you.’

‘Is that what you do?’ repeated Karen.

‘Not me! But Sahira, that’s another matter, there was no low point to which she wouldn’t stoop. No wonder she was struck from the earth... if indeed that’s what’s happened.’

‘Did you strike her from this earth, Maaz?’ asked Walter.

Maaz shook his head. ‘Dropped her at the airport, mate. That was the last time I saw her. Why don’t you check through some CCTV or summat, that’ll back me up.’

‘I am sure that will be done,’ said Karen.

‘Too true, sister, sooner the better for me, so I can get outta here and get home.’

‘These mobile phone pictures,’ said Walter. ‘Where are they now?’

‘Still on the phone, I suppose.’

‘And where is the phone?’ asked Karen.

‘Now there I can’t help you.’

‘It was Luke Flowers’ phone, wasn’t it?’ asked Walter.

‘Luke who?’ grinned Maaz.

Walter shrugged his shoulders.

It was time for a reassessment break.

‘This interview is over,’ said Walter. ‘Terminated at 9.38pm.’

‘That it then? Can I go home now?’

‘No, you can’t,’ said Walter. ‘Have him taken to the cells, and get Mohammed up here.’

MAAZ WAS TAKEN DOWN to the cells by a broad red-faced twenty-five year service man who looked way older than he was. Maaz didn’t stop talking for a second. The policeman barely said a word.

There were fifteen cells in the basement, all in a line off the narrow corridor, seven feet wide, but longer than usual, to use up all the available space down there. The building was late fifties design when cost was an issue, and early sixties build, when quality control was not much of an issue at all. There were no windows to the cells, no heating, and no air conditioning. In the winter they were freezing and in the summer, like that day, it was always stiflingly hot.

Inside the cell were two items.

A metal framed bench-like bed, brown leather clad, easy to clean, hard to vandalise, welded to the floor, set parallel to the right wall of the cell. The second item was a heavy blue plastic chamber pot, unbreakable, no en suite facilities, the whole building had been earmarked for demolition and replacement, but budget restraints had delayed that, and temporary guests had to cope with nineteenth century standards of hygiene and comfort.

There was nothing else in the cell, no table, no chair, no blanket, no radio, no knife and fork, nothing but the prisoner himself, or herself, alone with their thoughts, under the one protected ceiling light, a bulb that could be switched off at any time, plunging the visitor into total darkness, or left on all night.

Maaz Khan had been thoroughly patted down earlier, and before he was left alone the