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

death’s door for a while, and shortly after that he popped his clogs.’

‘Does she know?’

‘She does now. She didn’t then.’

‘So how did she get away?’

‘That’s a story in itself.’

‘Well, go on, do tell.’

‘The boys were at the races, Derby Day it was, big showpiece event. I think there’s a bit of the gypsy in them, Derby Day and gypsies go hand-in-hand, and the Barton boys had booked an expensive box in the main stand a few doors down from the Queen herself, they didn’t want to miss out on that. Left Jessica in the house with two minders. Let her watch it on the TV. Promised to wave to her if the chance arose. She must have realised it was her best opportunity, while the brothers were out of the house, probably realised that she’d have to be brave and decisive. It might be her only chance.’

‘Go on.’

‘She killed one of them.’

‘What!’

‘God’s honest truth, Guv. She gutted one of the minders like gutting a bloater, the bigger more imposing of the two as it happened, using the same knife the forensic boys say, and it must have been too much for the other guy who, terrified, fled upstairs. She hurried outside, walked into Henley-on-Thames and jumped a cab for Scotland Yard.’

‘What happened next?’

‘She spills everything she knows, strikes a deal that gives her immunity from prosecution, just so long as she puts the Barton brothers away forever, new ID the lot, though it’s hard to give a new ID to someone as famous as her.’

‘Thought we didn’t do deals?’

Cliffe grimaced. ‘You know how it is, Guv, if the benefit’s great enough the world’s your oyster.’

‘And the bookie?’

‘Never found him. Rumoured to reside beneath a vast new hypermarket in Essex, probably beneath the butchery counter.’

‘So, Robyn or Jessica, is put into a safe house and guarded round the clock?’

‘Correct.’

‘But the location of the safe houses are compromised?’

‘Correct again.’

‘How? By whom?’

‘Presumably agents operating on behalf of the Barton boys who are now in custody and on trial for murder, and much more besides, and there is one key eye-witness upon whom the whole shebang depends, and that person, the skinny six foot she thing, as you call her, is currently wallowing in your bath.’

‘And these agents would presumably do anything to shut her up, to kill her?’

‘You got it, Guv. There is a known contract out on her life. One hundred gees. Big moola!’

‘That would attract the pond slime.’

‘Sure would, and it does.’

‘And no one knows you are here?’

‘Let’s hope so.’

‘So who does know?’ asked Walter.

‘You, me, six foot she, and the Chief Super.’

‘No one else?’

‘Not that I know of, you haven’t told anyone, have you?’

‘Course not.’

‘Just as well. Secrets have a habit of leaking out.’

‘Yes, as we’ve already seen with the safe houses.’

Stevie nodded.

‘They’ll come looking for her,’ said Walter.

‘Course they will. That’s why there’s a loaded gun on the table, and another in my pants.’

They both glanced at the dozing Glock, happy to see it there.

Walter coughed.

Cliffe continued. ‘You didn’t know all this, about the Barton brothers and Jessica Stone?’

‘No, not all of it, knew they had been arrested of course, but how many times have they been arrested over the years? Must be dozens. After a while it just doesn’t register.’

‘It’s had loads of coverage in the gossip pages.’

‘Don’t read the bloody gossip pages.’

‘Maybe you should.’

Walter snorted. Said, ‘Yeah, maybe I should,’ and then he added, ‘Been busy on my own murders, tends to dominate the thinking.’

‘I can understand that.’

‘So now I am sharing a bed with a supermodel who is known to have killed a man?’

Stevie nodded and grinned and said, ‘Lucky you!’

‘I don’t mean literally, providing a bed for, if you prefer.’

‘That’s about the size of it.’

‘Do I need to lock up my carving knives?’

Cliffe laughed. ‘If it makes you feel happier.’

‘Mmm, maybe I will.’

‘Hi guys!’

They glanced up and the skinny six foot she thing was standing in the doorway, wrapped up in a long white towelled gown, barefooted, neat feet, nice toes. Her black hair, wet and neatly combed like a choirboy’s, severely parted on the left, not a hair out of place, a hint of pinkness in her white cheeks, a hint of rose perfume permeating the sitting room.

‘Talking about me, were you?’

The men shared a look.

‘Course not,’ said Walter. ‘Stevie’s been showing me his weapon.’

Robyn Dapper smirked down and didn’t say a word.

Cliffe began laughing, as she sat down and began painting her nails, bright scarlet.

Eleven

Greg and Karen arrived back outside her modern block of flats at just on 11pm. Greg was driving, though Karen would have preferred to. He switched off the engine and extended his arm around her shoulder and kissed her gently.

‘So,’ he said, ‘Do you want me to come in?’

‘You’d better,’ she said, ‘I haven’t finished with you yet.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ said Greg, though she was already out of the car and probably didn’t hear.

She fixed some coffee and they sat together on the cream sofa, as she said, ‘I’m a bit uneasy about the whole thing.’

Greg pulled a face, blew out air and said, ‘Can’t understand why. What’s the problem?’

‘It all feels a bit dodgy.’

‘Dodgy! Don’t be silly. Dodgy, it isn’t! You saw that presentation about Artesia.bmg. There’s nothing dodgy about that, is there? I could see you were moved by it. God, we all were!’

That much was true. She had been moved by the Artesia.bmg video. Who wouldn’t be? Began with little black kids in Africa drinking water from a muddy hole shared with cattle and assorted wild animals, who pissed and shat in the water. Then it showed the same village a year later, after Artesia.bmg had been in and opened up an artesian well, complete with three stainless steel taps, and the same, slightly larger but still familiar kids, filling their cans and bottles and plastic containers, and their mouths with the cold fresh clean liquid that bubbled up from the earth, and tumbled forth from the taps. The kids stared at the