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

far right corner of the garden, or smallholding to be fair to it, was an area penned off, containing at least three prime porkers, well ready for market, thought Walter, which reminded him, he was getting hungry and a bacon bap with lashings of brown sauce would not have gone amiss. He turned back to the room.

One neat bed, not a double, but not a single either. Queensize maybe. Side table to the left, with a shaded light on top. Three books there ready for reading, man’s fiction, not erotic, just thriller type special forces stuff. There were a few photographs on the wall of Donny but no one else in the shots, and pretty ordinary for all that. In one of them he was looking a little self-conscious, his arm in a sling.

Karen opened the wardrobe and began going through the clothes. High street clobber, not cheap, but not expensive either. Had the look of someone who wanted to look good, but couldn’t quite afford it. There was a chest of drawers pushed against the opposite wall to the bed with a CD player on top. Karen flipped open the CD. Coldplay and Keane. Enough said. The drawers were full of neatly washed and ironed T shirts, underwear, just what you might expect to find, but there were no love letters to be found, no old Valentine’s cards, no pictures of girls, or boys come to that, no condoms, nothing at all that hinted at excitement and fulfilment and satisfaction and happiness. That was all too obvious. It was an ordinary, yet unhappy room, in an unhappy house. Walter and Karen had seen it so many times before. They would not have been surprised to find a number for the Samaritans, but did not.

‘Seen enough?’ Karen asked.

‘I think so. I’m getting bad vibes.’

‘You and me both.’

‘No computer anywhere?’ said Walter.

‘Not that I can see, maybe he just uses a mobile.’

They let themselves out and went downstairs.

The parents met them in the hall.

‘Does he have a computer?’

‘No! He says he uses one all day long and the last thing he wants to do is compute when he comes home.’

‘Do you have one?’ asked Walter.

‘No! Hate the things,’ said Colin.

‘Does he have a mobile phone?’ asked Karen.

‘Yes, but he doesn’t use it that often,’ said Chrissie. ‘And before you ask, he’s not answering, and that’s not like him either. I’ve rung and left messages but they are not returned.’

Karen pulled out her mobile and said, ‘What’s the number?’

Chrissie rattled it off.

Karen tried it. Straight to voicemail.

‘This is Sergeant Karen Greenwood from Chester Police. Your parents are very worried about you, Donald, can you please ring them as soon as possible, or you can call me anytime.’ She glanced at Chrissie. She nodded and looked pleased that Karen had made the effort.

‘Same as me,’ she said. ‘He’s not answering.’

‘Has he ever been in trouble with the police?’ asked Walter.

‘Never!’ said Chrissie.

‘Not that we know of,’ said Colin.

‘Does he have a car?’ asked Karen.

‘Can’t afford one,’ said Colin.

‘He gets the bus into work,’ said his mother.

‘Can he drive?’ asked Walter.

‘No,’ said Colin. ‘Never shown any interest in it whatsoever.’

‘Whose is the van?’ asked Walter.

‘Mine,’ said Colin.

‘Ours,’ said Chrissie.

‘And he never drives that?’ asked Karen.

‘He doesn’t drive!’ insisted Colin, ‘Never.’

‘He has a bike though,’ said Chrissie.

‘A motorbike?’ asked Walter.

‘No. A push-bike,’ said Colin. ‘But he hasn’t been on that for years either.’

‘Can we see it?’

‘Sure, it’s in the shed at the side of the house.’

‘So you last saw him when?’ asked Walter.

‘Four days ago,’ they both said, almost as one.

‘In the meantime,’ Karen said, ‘here’s my card,’ and she slipped it into Chrissie’s hand and she stared at it blankly. ‘If you can think of anything at all, where he might have gone, why he might have gone away, any friends he might be staying with, and especially anyone who might have a grudge against him, or might want to harm him, do please ring me at any time.’

‘Okay,’ Chrissie said, slowly.

‘And will you ring us if you have any news?’ asked Colin.

Walter bobbed his head and promised to ring, and five minutes later the officers were outside looking in the shed. One old rusty bike; flat tyres, hadn’t been used in years, just as they said. Wherever Donny had gone, he certainly hadn’t used the bike.

THEY WAVED GOODBYE to the Rushnell couple who were standing in the doorway and headed back to town.

‘What do you make of that?’ asked Karen.

‘The guy’s grown up. He’s bored to tears and the penny’s dropped that he might be living in that house until his dying day, what’s more, he’s suddenly staring at looking after not one, but two elderly parents, give it ten years and they’ll both need a lot of care. Maybe he thought he’d better live a little before it’s too late. He could have gone anywhere, jumped on a train to London or anything.’

‘Or under it.’

‘God, I hope not. Did you mean it when you said he was a good looking boy?’

‘Nah, course not. But all mothers like to think their son is the best looking kid in the world. That’s only natural. If you want my opinion, I thought he looked weak.’

‘You don’t mince your words.’

‘You know me, Guv. I’ll always tell you how it is,’ and by then she was ducking the car down the underpass and heading for that foul-aired car park. She was in a hurry. She wanted to get away that evening. She wanted to see Greg and tell him all about Mrs West’s possible interest, and she wanted to check if Greg had booked the conference. Mrs West had given her the okay to have a couple of days off if need be, providing the Sadie case had been cleared up by then. It was as good an incentive as any.

Twenty-Seven

At five to seven the next morning Jan set a steaming cup of coffee before his boss. Everyone was there, Karen, Jenny, Gibbons,