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

woman. Some very bad men have taken her away against her will. If you tell anyone about this, ever, her life might be endangered. Understand?’

He glanced at each of the Morgan family in turn. They all had their mouths open, and were nodding gently.

‘Total secrecy,’ whispered Walter. ‘Can you do that? This is most important. I can’t stress it enough.’

‘Yes,’ said Mr Morgan. ‘You can rely on us.’

‘Will you catch them?’ asked Lizzy.

‘We will, with your help. If you think of anything else just call across and tell me, come anytime, it’s never too late, or you can ring me no matter what time it is, here are my numbers,’ and he took out a card and set it on the oak coffee table. ‘Okay?’

Mr Morgan picked up the card and passed it round.

‘How exciting,’ said Mrs Morgan.

‘Better than the telly,’ said the kid.

‘Don’t forget, you mustn’t tell anyone, not a soul, not at Bestdas, not in the pub, not at the airport, her life could be in danger. Understand?’

They all nodded again and Mrs Morgan did that zip movement with fingers across her mouth, and the other two copied and the kid said, ‘Total silence,’ and Walter nodded and Mr Morgan said, ‘I’m forgetting myself. Would you like a cuppa tea, Inspector? Or something stronger, maybe?’

‘No thanks, not now. Another time perhaps. I have to go back to work. Lots to do.’

‘Course,’ said Mr Morgan. ‘We won’t keep you a moment longer,’ and with that he showed Walter to the front door.

Nineteen 

Karen had only been in the flat ten minutes when the landline rang.

‘Hi,’ she said.

‘Hi sugar.’

‘What can I do for you, Mister Orlando?’

‘Well, I thought I might be able to do something for you.’

‘In what way?’

‘Thought I might buy you dinner.’

‘Oh Greg, I don’t feel like going out again.’

‘Actually, I didn’t mean that.’

‘What then?’

‘I have to go to Bestdas, ran out of razor blades, so I thought I might pick up one of those fresh carrier bag type things they do, you know, those complete Indian or Chinese meals.’

Karen liked Indian food, and Chinese too, and she hadn’t really planned anything for her evening meal, which in truth was her only real meal of the day. ‘Just one thing...’ she said.

‘What?’

‘Two things.’

‘What what?’

‘Get a shave first.’

‘Yes, milady.’

‘And bring all the Kit Napoleon stuff with you.’

‘Okey-doke. Indian or Chinese?’

‘Indian, and not yucky korma, something fiery, I’m in the mood for something hot.’

‘Best news I’ve had all day.’

Karen giggled. ‘Not you, you schmuck!’

Greg ignored that and said, ‘I’ll be a couple of hours.’

‘Fair enough, I’m not going anywhere.’

‘See you later,’ and then he was gone.

GREG TURNED UP AT THE flat an hour and three quarters later. He was clutching a bag of lamb tikka and some cans of premium cider he knew she liked. She’d slipped on a tiny beige skirt and a skinny flower patterned blouse that was almost see-through, and she looked hot.

‘Something hot,’ he said, trying to think about food, setting it down on the kitchen worktop.

‘Kiss first,’ she said, and he was happy to do that, as she fell into his bear-like chest.

Minutes later they were eating their way through Bestdas best supermarket Indian curry, sitting together on the sofa, steaming curries balanced on their knees, and by crikes, it was hot, tasty though, and Karen tried not to think too much of the calories. The only things she had consumed that day were two muesli bars and an apple, so she was comfortable with that.

‘Did you bring the Napoleon stuff?’

‘Course I did.’

‘I have a few more questions.’

‘Geez! Are you a detective, or something? Ah, but of course you are,’ and they both laughed at that. ‘Guess I didn’t expect anything else. Fire away?’

‘Artesia.bmg are an Austrian company. Why is that?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s a tax thing, I have no idea. Is it important?’

‘Probably not. Walter mentioned it. And you’ll guarantee my money?’

‘Said so, didn’t I?’

‘Will you put that in writing?’

‘Do I need to?’

‘Are you prepared to?’

‘If I have to.’

‘Okay,’ she said, ‘You don’t, I’ll take your word on that. I’m in, but on two conditions.’

‘Like what?’

‘What level are you on again?’

‘Five, you know that.’

‘When I get involved in anything, Greg, I only do so on the basis of full commitment. I always give everything I’ve got to give, no matter what I’m involved with. It would be the same with this. I’d want to get to level five too, and soon.’

‘Okay, but you’ll have to work at it.’

‘I can do that.’

‘I’ll help you all I can.’

‘You’d better.’

‘There’s a conference coming up, a weekend promotional thing, next month sometime.’

‘When exactly?’

Greg checked his tablet, showed her the dates.

‘Sign us up!’ she said.

‘Don’t you want to check first if you can get the time off?’

‘Leave that to me. Just sign us up.’

He was happy at the thought; she was an amazingly decisive girl when the mood took her, though something in him wondered where all this newfound enthusiasm had come from.

‘Do I make the cheque out to you?’ she asked, setting the empty dishes to one side. She jumped up and went to the low modern Danish sideboard that her dad had acquired for her when she first bought the flat. She pulled open the drawer and took out her chequebook and a good pen and went back and cuddled into Greg’s arm.

Pen poised over the cheque she said, ‘To whom?’

‘The Future Growth and Prosperity Program. American spelling on the Program.’

She wrote the cheque and signed it with a flourish.

‘Can’t wait to meet Kit Napoleon again. Will he be at the conference?’

‘Course.’

‘Good!’

‘It’s not all about him, you know.’

‘I think you will find it is.’

He pulled a face and didn’t say anything, went over to his case and tugged out the paperwork. Then he was back, balancing the file and papers on his massive thighs.

‘This is the contract, in duplicate, you have to sign it there and there, and there’s a thirty day cooling off period if you change your mind.’

‘I won’t change