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

‘Two units are to go to Manchester. I want you to take them as soon as Mr Brinton says they are ready.’

‘Sure, boss,’ said Man One.

‘The Cicero Club, Eastlands, near the football ground. You know it?’

‘Yeah, we’ve been there once before.’

‘Pay attention: You’re to collect £30,000 for each one, in cash, £60,000 in total. Make sure you count it. And check they are genuine, and take this little fella,’ and he opened the desk drawer and pulled out a small machine that could instantly determine whether a note was live or dead. ‘You don’t need to check every note, but you should check a random number as you are going through. Don’t be fobbed off, and don’t be in too much of a hurry. Take your time. Do it right. Understand?’

‘Yes, boss,’ said Man One.

Man Two grunted and nodded.

‘Any questions?’

‘When do we get paid?’

Pryce sniffed and went in a drawer on the left side of the desk and pulled out two fat brown envelopes and tossed them on the desk top.

‘We’ll need some juice money for Manchester as well,’ said Man One.

‘See Brinton.’

‘Sure thing.’

‘Take this case for the money,’ said the boss, handing a rectangular black briefcase across the desk. ‘And one other thing, don’t even think of doing a runner with the cash. We’d find you, you know that, don’t you?’

‘Course, boss. More than my life’s worth.’

‘Precisely. And even if you did, we know where your women live... and your children.’

‘You can trust us, boss,’ said Man One.

Man Two said, ‘Implicitly,’ which to Pryce seemed a big word for him.

‘Have the plates been changed on the people carrier?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Well get it done! Do it before you go.’

Man One nodded.

‘And when you come back drive the vehicle into the warehouse and spray paint it grey.’

‘Will do.’

‘I’ll ring Harry now,’ and Pryce jumped on the phone and spoke to a man named Harry and advised him that the couriers would be leaving soon with two excellent units, and to have the cash standing by.

‘Okay, that’s done, now get on with it!’ said Pryce, still on the phone, as he nodded the men away toward the door.

AN HOUR LATER, BRINTON came out of the stationery room with the two lucky selected units. They’d been fed, washed, and had combed their hair, and looked about two percent better. Brinton offered the lead and Man Two took it and tugged them toward the exit.

‘Come along, ladies, you are going on a nice little trip,’ and he smirked and tugged them outside toward the people carrier as if he was walking his rescued greyhound in the local park. The last thing Man One saw was Brinton locking the other three back in the stationery room. Outside, Man Two opened the side door of the van. He grinned at the girls. ‘You lucky things. You are going to be in such demand. You will never have had so much attention,’ and holding the frame of the door, he leant inside to push one of the seats back.

The taller Oriental leant forward and down, the one with the nice teeth; sank them hard into Man Two’s left hand, deep as she could, tasted blood, tasted flesh, and she pulled back satisfied, like a snake that had delivered a fatal bite.

‘Fucking hell!’ screamed Man Two, and he lashed out with his good hand, the same hand he had broken in a Bromborough pub. Couldn’t help himself. Automatic reaction. Crashed it into the Oriental’s face. Smashed her nose every which way.

She screamed and bent at the waist, looked like she might go down, his hand covered in blood, more scarlet dripping to the tarmac, her nose bleeding like a dripping tap. Man One had come outside in time to witness the bite, and the smite; and now he had two bleeding and unhappy characters on his hands.

‘Fucking hell! What did you do that for?’

He grabbed the petite unit who was standing there looking baffled, and led them all back inside, shaking his head.

‘What the fuck’s going on?’ yelled Brinton, surprised to see them back, and he saw blood everywhere, all over the better looking unit, and Hell, her face looked a mess, and blood on the courier’s hand and shirt too, and now on the floor inside the building, fouling up reception.

‘She bit him... he hit her,’ Man One tried to explain.

‘Not good! Manchester Harry won’t take damaged goods. Mr Pryce will have to be told. He is not going to like this. I really don’t need this kind of hassle!’

Thirty-One

At the same moment Karen set the phone down. She’d been updating the Rushnells, not that there was a great deal of updating to be done. They’d heard nothing from Donald either, it was still a mystery, so they said, and Donald remained unaccounted for.

Karen glanced at her boss. He seemed miles away. ‘We haven’t used all the facilities on the monster; you know that, don’t you, Guv? Barely scratched the surface.’

‘Oh yeah. Like what?’

‘It has a suggestion feature, for a start.’

‘A suggestion feature? What’s it going to suggest? Back Liverpool at the weekend? Steer clear of Kit Contrick?’

‘Court papers coming your way,’ she said, a mock expression of anger on her face. ‘Seriously, Guv, we won’t know if we don’t ask it.’

Darriteau suppressed a scoff and nodded her toward the machine that had been pushed back against the wall like a naughty boy. She smiled and jumped up and trotted toward it. Woke it up again with a prod in the midriff.

‘Hello again, team,’ it said in that irrepressibly cheerful voice, via a computer generated young woman with long blonde hair and blue eyes, a woman that, it had to be said, bore more than a passing resemblance to Karen.

She brought up the Sadie case and pressed the suggestion button.

‘Thank you. I shall now investigate the case and try and solve the puzzle.’

Walter scoffed. ‘And how long is that going to take?’

‘No idea, Guv.’

‘Whatever next? Computers solving crimes. We may as