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

is, but still nonetheless Walter’s boss from those long ago days, one of Walter’s first bosses, come to think of it, more than thirty years before, when Walter had been attached to Scotland Yard. Melvyn Wortley, to give him his correct name, or even Melvyn Leslie Wortley, if you wanted to be precise and annoy him, because he hated the Leslie part, that’s the fella. What could Chief Superintendent Melvyn Leslie Wortley possibly want with Walter Darriteau after all this time? His voice was the same standard estuary English, south-east England, smart cockney, Wortley certainly thought that, liked to flash it up a bit, the accent that is, if Walter’s memory served, maybe an octave or two lower now, but he always did like a smoke.

‘The thing is, Darriteau, I need your urgent help on something.’

‘Oh?’

‘We have a little problem down here, I’m still attached to the Yard, by the way.’

What did “attached” actually mean, pondered Walter. Could be any number of things, could hide any number of things too.

‘I’m now the head of the WPP.’

Walter exhaled loudly. That made things marginally clearer.

‘And, as I said, we have a wee problem.’

‘Namely?’

‘Compromised security.’

‘In what way?’

‘It’s a little embarrassing.’

‘Security breaches usually are.’

‘Yes, well, there’s no point in denying it. It’s happened, so we just have to get on with it and make the best of it.’

The best of what exactly? thought Walter. The guy had always been a windbag. Walter wanted to scream: Get to the bloody point, man! but somehow he resisted. Instead he found himself saying: ‘Go on.’

‘The location of the safe houses... non secure, not any more.’

‘Oh dear. Then you have a big problem.’

‘We do, and that’s why I need your help.’

Walter did not like what he was hearing and said, ‘How come you are calling me?’

‘Now that’s an interesting thing, Darriteau. We ran a computer search, all former colleagues, going back yonks, ex members of the team, so to speak, strict criteria, - still serving, unmarried, reasonable home, no commitments, honest and reliable, trustworthy, and the central brain threw out just twelve names. Only twelve, man, can you believe it? And the funny thing is, we need twelve people, isn’t that a coincidence?’

Walter tried hard not to yawn, but failed.

‘Are you all right up there?’

‘Fine, Sir, yes sorry, late night.’

‘Yes well, we all have to work late nights occasionally. Nature of the beast, Darriteau, as you well know. But going back to what I was saying, if you must know, you were the twelfth and last apostle. You only just made the cut!’

‘Lucky me,’ Walter muttered under his breath.

He still wasn’t sure what his old boss, Melvin, was asking, and when he didn’t understand anything he had never been afraid to ask. Got him into trouble many times throughout his career, that questioning thing, but he would always ask, always better than acting dumb, keeping the head down, looking for a quiet life, that was never Walter’s way.

‘Chief Superintendent, would you mind explaining exactly what you want from me?’

‘Sorry, I thought I had.’

‘Not quite,’ said Walter, straining to be polite.

‘I’d have thought it was obvious. You’re an intelligent man, if memory serves. I have twelve people I need to get out of London today, pronto pronto, away from our unsafe safe houses, and into safe ones... like yours.’

‘You mean, my home?’

‘That’s the ticket.’

‘But I can’t...’ but before Walter could say anymore, Melvin was talking again.

‘I’ve run all the checks, you live alone, your house is perfect, checked it out on Google Earth, not too working class, not too a la la, well away from the big smoke, spare bedrooms aplenty, very few callers, easy to defend.’

Easy to defend? What the hell did that mean, and what on earth was he being roped into?

‘They’ll be with you around 7pm. One Protector, and one Protected. It’ll only be for a few days, a week tops, probably less. It’ll be a breeze.’

‘But I can’t...’

‘Oh, but I think you can, Darriteau, and think of the big gold stars that would sure to be stamped on your record. Helping out Scotland Yard at such short notice: The man couldn’t have been more helpful, I can see that glowing comment on all your records right now. You might even land that long hoped for promotion that I am sure you deserve.’

Truth was, Walter did not want promotion, he never had, not really, he preferred to remain an Inspector, a Detective Inspector, where he could concentrate on what he did best, detection work, he was a full time detective, and wished to remain so. Further up the greasy pole, and he would inevitably be pushed into politics and pandering and faffing about with committees and decision making and red tape, and meddling bodies, alive and inert, and worst of all, budgets and finance and blasted administration and damn form filling, and God alone knows what else.

‘Now listen, Darriteau, this is strictly between you and me, understand? Secrecy is the key. We have already had one breach and there must not be another. Don’t mention anything to your woman boss, and nor to that sexy sergeant of yours either. I know they are both away today and that’s ideal. Here’s my number, call me anytime you like,’ and Melvin rattled off a mobile number. ‘Tell no one! Got that?’

‘I hear you.’

‘Good man!’

‘Anything else I need to know?’

‘The Protector’s name is Stevie Cliffe, sergeant; he’s a good lad. Been around a bit. Armed of course.’

‘And the Protected?’

‘Stevie will tell you all about that when he gets there, all you need to know anyway.’

‘7pm you said?’

‘You got it, Walter. And they’ll need feeding too, nothing too fancy, Steve will have all the official chits, put in a claim, you’ll be reimbursed the accommodation costs, semi-generous they are too, you don’t have to worry about that.’

Semi-generous, mused Walter. What the heck did that mean?

‘Any more questions, Darriteau?’

‘None.’

‘Good! Just remember, this is TOP secret, so let’s keep it that way. People’s lives are at risk.’

What a pompous oaf he was,