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

Walter couldn’t remember ever setting foot inside number 58 before. The house was exactly the same layout as his, three bedroom Edwardian detached, built around 1905. A substantial building, built to last. The Edwardians didn’t muck about. Wouldn’t tolerate shabbiness in any form, and that trait had been inherited from the values of the late Queen. But any similarity between the Morgan’s place and his, ended there.

He glanced around the room. Thick pile carpet, trendy grey, looked new. Light oak furniture, looked new too, two comfortable looking cream sofas, expensive too, smelt that way, Mr Morgan did something at Hawarden airport, Walter wasn’t sure what, straight sofas and placed parallel opposite one another, and a vast flatscreen TV that took up half of one wall. The whole place resembled a five star hotel.

‘You know mum and dad?’ said Lizzy.

‘Yes, sure,’ and he stepped forward as Mr Morgan stood up and shook Walter’s hand.

Mrs Morgan said, ‘Hello Walter, I won’t get up, I’ve ricked my back.’

‘Take a seat,’ said Mr Morgan and Walter plopped down opposite them in the most comfortable sofa known to mankind. Lizzy balanced on the end.

The Morgans knew Walter well enough, they knew he was a policeman too, and an Inspector no less, everyone in the road knew that. He was a celebrity in a minor kind of way, quite often appeared on the telly or in the papers. There was that horrible murder diaries murder business from a year or two ago and Walter had been on the telly a lot back then, and no one would ever forget Walter Darriteau. He’d even been invited to open the church fete, but had stipulated that he could only attend depending on the number of murders he was investigating at the time, and that sure as heck impressed the fete committee. The vicar wasn’t so sure he was the right man for the job.

‘So what’s been going on?’ asked Mr Morgan, and all three of them leant forward as if he were about to tell them a thrilling story.

‘I don’t know. You tell me.’

Daddy Morgan nodded at the apple of his eye, Lizzy, and said, ‘Tell the Inspector all you know, Liz.’

She took a deep breath. ‘I was just coming home, half past three it was.’

‘You’d been to work?’ asked Walter, unable to stop himself asking questions.

‘Yeah. Bestdas. I’m on the till.’

‘Go on.’

‘I was just coming up to your house when I saw your front door opening. I thought that was unusual ’cos you are never in during the day.’

‘And?’

‘A tall gangly woman came out. Two men had hold of her, gripping her by the arms. I thought, what the hell’s going on here, must have been two policemen arresting the girl, that’s what I thought, well you would, wouldn’t you?’

‘And then?’

‘They pushed her into the car, ’cept it was more of a people carrier thing, dark green it was, perhaps Japanese, maybe a Toyota, I’m not very good on cars, but I thought it a funny vehicle for the police to use.’

‘Did they say anything, shout anything?’

‘Not that I heard.’

‘Tell me about the men.’

‘Like what?’

‘Description, anything.’

‘They were fit looking, but not like the fancy young guys you see in the pub. Late twenties, or more likely early thirties, now I come to think about it. Not the kind of guys I’d go for.’

‘What were they wearing?’

‘Blue jeans and black jeans,’ she said, impressed with her own recollection. ‘And white short sleeve shirts like you see at Wimbledon. But grubby, maybe.’

‘And what happened after that?’

‘Not much really, they jumped in the car thing and drove smartly away, not roared, but didn’t hang around either. It huffed away.’

‘Huffed?’

‘Yeah,’ and she grinned in that captivating way of the vivacious teenager. ‘I didn’t get the number plate, but the first part was definitely HUF, so I remember thinking it kind of HUFfed away, silly I know...’

‘No! That’s great Lizzy; you are doing well, what else? Tell me about the men. Were they white?’

She nodded. ‘Oh yeah.’

‘Hairstyle.’

‘Nah!’

‘What do you mean?’

‘They didn’t have a style. They’d be laughed out of the pub. Kind of greasy, unkempt, uncut, neglected, really,’ and on hearing that all three of the Morgans couldn’t help but glance at Walter’s wild grey hair that kind of stood on end as if it had seen a ghost, and that certainly needed a cut too, but no one said a word about that.

‘After they had gone,’ continued Lizzy, ‘that’s when I saw the gun.’

‘On the path?’

Lizzy bobbed her head.

‘Did you touch it?’

‘Nah. I was going to but I had this horrible feeling I might fire it by mistake and blow my foot off.’ And then she said, ‘I need my feet,’ and she giggled like the kid she was. ‘Kept an eye on it though, all the while until you came home in Carrie’s cab. She’s well known at Bestdas, is Carrie. Kept watch in case any kids saw it and picked it up, but none of them did. Just as well, really.’

Mrs Morgan, who has been quiet until then, said, ‘I heard the shot.’

‘A gunshot?’

‘Yep, pretty sure it was. Very loud. Had the windows open. Was lying on the couch, with my bad back and all, heard this big bang, it was just before our Lizzy came home.’

‘Just the one shot?’

‘Yes. I sat up and saw the three of them coming down the path, just as Liz said. There was a bit of a struggle in the middle of your path and then they bundled her into the van thing.’

‘Maybe that’s when they dropped the gun,’ suggested Lizzy.

‘Maybe it was,’ said Walter.

‘What’s going on here, Walter?’ asked Mr Morgan.

Walter exhaled. ‘Can I take you into my confidence?’

They all sat closer still.

‘Yes,’ said Mr Morgan, breathlessly, and the others nodded.

‘I have been advised to tell you that it’s all a police exercise, but that’s not true.’

The three of them exchanged puzzled but impressed glances.

‘The fact is, I have been looking after the young