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

of the staff think him a bit weird. One girl said she thought Donald fancied her, but she didn’t return the feeling, she said that he had never had a girlfriend, so far as she knew, though she did say that just recently he might have met someone, though he never confirmed that, just a feeling she had, said he seemed a bit happier with life, a bit more contented.’

‘Maybe he’s gay,’ suggested Gibbons.

‘Could be, though I suspect not,’ said Walter.

‘So we have no reason to think he ever met the dead woman?’ said Hector.

‘No Hector, we don’t,’ said Walter, ‘but I can tell you this. If he met her he would be interested, unless he is gay, and I don’t think he is, and if she met him, she would be interested in him, especially if she was lonely, and couldn’t speak much English, and he showed her kindness and affection.’

‘Maybe he met her and killed her,’ suggested Jenny.

‘Sadly Jen, that is a possibility,’ said Walter, ‘so as we are not getting too far with Sadie, the missing woman, the IC5, it would be good to locate Donald Rushnell, if nothing else than to rule him out of the equation. And remember this, Sadie was dumped outside the swimming baths by two men, and Donald doesn’t appear to have many friends, or even any friends. Today, while Jan and Jen are finishing their enquiries, we will be looking to see if we can trace if Donald left the area, so it’s CCTV time at the railway station and bus terminus and even Liverpool and Manchester airports, he doesn’t drive by the way, and it’s visits to travel agents to see if he has made any bookings there, and it’s a release of both pictures, his and hers, to the media with a plea for help.’

‘That’s going to take ages,’ moaned Hector.

Gibbons grinned. He liked this kind of work, specialised in it, going through lists, watching CCTV, searching, searching, he adored all of it because of the high it brought him when just occasionally, he found amongst all the dross, what they were searching for. It was what he thought police work was all about. The daily grind. Detection.

‘Got anything better to do?’ Gibbons asked.

‘Nope,’ said Hector.

‘OK team,’ said Walter, ‘let’s see some action.’

Everyone nodded and grunted and finished what was left of their cold coffees. Karen tickled the monster and put it in stand-by mode.

The cheery face momentarily reappeared and said sweetly, ‘Good luck, team!’

‘Good luck, monster!’ the young ones replied.

Walter and Mrs West shared another look. Ricky, the Hytec rep would have to be spoken to about that. The naff comments would have to go.

Before those going out left the office Gibbons said, ‘Are you going to tell us about Poppie-Wushka’s friend?’ and he grinned across at Jan.

‘Another time,’ said Walter. ‘Too much to do.’

Jan nodded and held the door open for Jenny and the long drawn out detection business began all over again.

At 11.30 that night Karen was making ready for bed. Greg had been over for a light tea and he’d gone home early as he had a very early start the next morning. Preparation for a Casualty Awareness Open Day, something like that. Karen’s bedside phone rang.

She rolled over and grabbed the phone. ‘Hello?’

‘Karen Greenwood?’

‘Yes.’

‘It’s Kit Napoleon.’

Karen smiled to herself and said, ‘Hi.’

He must have culled the number from her application form.

‘I am sorry to bother you so late.’

‘Not a problem. I’m a light sleeper.’

‘I just thought I’d ring and welcome you aboard. I have just been going through the recent new recruits and was so pleased to see your name on the list.’

‘Great,’ she said, unsure of what else to say.

‘How’s it been going?’

‘Pretty good. I’ve signed up two new recruits already, sold some courses and books too, so yeah, it’s been good so far.’

‘Oh, that is good. So glad to hear you are getting underway so soon. That’s half the battle, just to get started, but the real reason for my call was to advise you of a conference coming up next month and I was wondering if you and Greg could make it?’

‘Yeah, we know all about that, and we both hope to attend.’

‘That is good. You are just the kind of people we want there. I am so pleased. Have you a pen handy?’

‘Yep.’

‘Here’s my private number,’ and he reeled off the digits. ‘You can ring me any time you like, don’t hesitate, if you need any advice or input from the top, so to speak, just give me a call. Will you do that?’

‘Sure. Thanks, Mr Napoleon.’

‘You’re very welcome, and do call me Kit. Now, I’ve kept you long enough, a small number of late calls still to make, so good luck and good night, Karen.’

‘Goodnight, err... Kit,’ and he rang off.

Karen set the phone down, maybe a bit strange to be ringing so late, maybe a bit strange to be ringing her at home at all, but hell, at least he had taken the time and trouble to ring, and she wondered if “Kit” rang all the new recruits. But there were so many of them that would be impossible. Maybe he just rang the women; maybe he just rang the young women, or the single women, or the attractive women. Who knew what thoughts went through the guy’s head when it came to contacting new members late night at home? Maybe he was just an old perv? Stranger things had happened. She’d ask Greg about it the following evening. Did Kit ring Greg when he joined? And she was still thinking of that, and him, not Greg, but Kit Napoleon, as she slowly fell asleep.

Twenty-Eight

Later that night. A people carrier swept out of the newer of the two Mersey Tunnels; Liverpool side, turned left and headed down toward the dock road, and turned right, northbound. Two men inside, working the late shift. Worker bees, employees, unsocial hours, but the pay was good.

Not much traffic about,