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

custody sergeant took away his tie, checked his shoes for laces, but found the guy preferred designer gear, neat slip-on loafers; must have cost a pretty penny, maybe half a week’s wages for a policeman.

Maaz was eased inside and the door slammed behind him.

He stared round and stopped talking, stopped grinning.

Licked his lips and sat on the bench, his mind a total blank.

Didn’t know why he was there.

Didn’t know what he had done wrong.

Didn’t know where he had been.

Didn’t know where he was going.

Didn’t know how long it would be before he was spoken to again.

IN THE INTERVIEW ROOM Mohammed was next up.

‘Tell us about the pictures?’ asked Walter.

‘What pictures?’

‘Don’t waste our time!’ snapped Karen. ‘Maaz has told us all about the filthy pics on the phone.’

Mohammed shook his head.

‘Where is the mobile phone now?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘If it’s in the State we’ll find it,’ said Karen.

‘Of course you will,’ said Mohammed.

‘So where is it?’ asked Walter.

Mohammed shrugged his shoulders.

‘Did you kill Luke Flowers?’ asked Walter.

‘Luke who?’

‘You know who we are talking about!’ said Karen.

‘Nope, don’t know anything about it. Is my solicitor coming?’

‘He’s been notified,’ said Walter.

‘He’s in Birmingham for God’s sake!’

Karen grinned. ‘That’s hardly our fault.’

‘I think I’ll wait until he’s here.’

‘Suit yourself,’ said Walter. ‘But fact is, he won’t be here ’till tomorrow. I thought you’d prefer to get on with things, get home all the sooner.’

Mohammed twisted around in his chair, back and forth, then settled and said, ‘Yeah, you’re right. Let’s get on with it; I have nothing to hide.’

Walter and Karen shared a look and Walter said, ‘What did you think when you discovered Sahira had been sleeping with white boys?’

‘I wasn’t happy about it. Do you have any children? Any daughters?’

‘No.’

‘Well if you did, I can tell you it would burn you up inside.’

‘Enough to kill the people involved?’ asked Karen.

‘You don’t know anything, you coppers.’

‘Maybe we do, maybe we don’t,’ said Walter. ‘Here’s your chance to set the record straight.’

‘Look! We discovered that Sahira was having this affair and for her own good it was agreed that she should go to Pakistan and marry there. If anything bad happened to the white guy then that’s indeed unfortunate, but don’t expect me or any of our family to grieve for him.’

‘She didn’t get to Pakistan,’ said Karen.

‘So you say.’

‘You don’t seem particularly worried about the fact your only daughter is missing,’ said Walter.

‘Wherever she is, God will be looking after her.’

A LOUD RAP CAME TO the door. Karen jumped up and opened up. It was Jenny Thompson. She was holding a folded over note. Handed it to Karen. The women shared a silent nod and Jenny left. Karen sat down and slipped the note to Walter. He held it up against his chest and opened the half sheet of paper.

Mohammed sitting across the table tried to read the words through the paper. Someone had written something heavily in ball-pen, he could see the indentations, but try as he might, he could not make out the message.

Walter silently read the five words twice, and passed the note to Karen. Her eyes raced across the writing.

Sword not the murder weapon.

‘What’s up?’ asked Mohammed.

‘Nothing. This interview is suspended, timed at 10.22pm.’

Fifty-Two

Walter scratched his head and gazed out through the window at the falling darkness. The very last of the daylight streaks were vanishing over the Roodee. He glanced back at Mrs West sitting behind her desk and then across at Karen. ‘It’s not the murder weapon,’ said Mrs West, leaving the thought floating in the air, and then she added, ‘that’s a bloody nuisance.’

‘They must have had it changed,’ said Walter, ‘a new copy made and substituted.’

‘So where’s the original?’ asked Mrs West.

‘Not in the State,’ said Walter.

‘How long has it been on display?’ asked Karen.

‘Years!’ said Walter. ‘For as long as I have been eating there.’

‘Course they had it changed!’ said Karen. ‘Look at the report, it says this is a newly made item, less than a year old.’

‘Where are we up to with the interviews?’ asked Mrs West, stifling a yawn.

‘Just about to start on Ahmed?’ said Walter.

‘Do you want to give it a break and come back refreshed in the morning?’

‘No! Rather do it now ma’am, if you don’t mind.’

‘If that’s what you want, Walter. You’re in charge. Get on with it and wrap it up. I want to ring Gitts and tell him we have solved his case,’ and she smiled a cold smile they hadn’t seen before, and nodded them toward the door.

THE INTERVIEW WITH Ahmed Khan was brief and to the point. He refused to say a word until his solicitor was present. Fact was, his lawyer had set off from Birmingham as soon as he’d taken the call. He wouldn’t have done that for just anyone, but the Khan family were one of his oldest clients, and from what had been said they were in big trouble. But he was stuck on the M6 behind some major accident that showed no sign of being cleared. Latest forecasts predicted that he wouldn’t arrive in Chester for another couple of hours; and he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

AHMED WAS TAKEN AWAY and Wazir was brought to the interview room. Those watching on the monster hadn’t lost interest. There was something about this patriarch of a man that demanded one paid attention.

Walter admired Wazir. Always had done. Everything about him. His demeanour, his principles, his conscientiousness, his hard working ethic, his achievements, his family, his sense of humour and duty, and his looks. The man was eighty-eight years old and he looked immaculate. Incredible. Walter admired that too, for he himself rarely if ever, looked immaculate. Wazir’s steel grey hair was neatly side parted, seemingly not a single strand missing, slightly longer than one might expect in a man of his age, but Wazir had always preferred it that way. His moustache was slim and sleek and newly and neatly