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

‘No father, I have already arranged to attend the prelim interview.’

‘What! Where? When?’

‘At the Hong Kong Police Force, I told you.’

‘You’ve done what?’ asked Mrs Woo.

‘The first interview, it’s next Tuesday.’

‘Well, you’re not going! So you can get that idea out of your mixed up mind,’ said Mrs Woo, turning to her husband. ‘Tell her she cannot go!’

Mr Woo shrugged and knew that whatever he said wasn’t going to make any difference.

‘Why Jun, why? Why do you want to join the police?’

‘It’s my calling, mother.’

‘Don’t be so stupid! You sound like a Christian nun!’

‘It’s what I want, and it’s what I am going to do, and if you want the best for me, if you want me to be happy you should encourage me every step of the way,’ and with that Jun picked up her book and stepped outside to the balcony and settled down in one of the cane chairs in the sunshine to read.

Most other people, most other kids, would have let such a conversation interrupt their train of thought, but not Jun, for she was so certain of her decision and her forthcoming course of action, there was absolutely no reason to let a few heated words distract her. And anyway, she was reading the latest Japanese police blockbuster novel that was riding high in the book charts, so true to life, so realistic, gritty, it was a truly great read, about a team of special agents, all female, all conquering, and it was just fab fab fab.

Mrs Woo huffed and puffed and made some tea. She said, ‘I don’t know why we are worrying about it. There’s nothing of her. A puff of wind would blow her over. She’s as much chance of passing the physical training exam as I have,’ and she snorted and looked at her husband for support, but he was again playing with his new Korean tablet that now appeared to dominate his life. He had heard his wife well enough, but said nothing. Fact was, he knew Jun as well as anyone, and he knew she possessed the Woo gene, the determination gene, that would always get the Woos through, often against all odds, logic, and reason.

Mr Woo enjoyed the occasional gamble, the Woo family business maintained an executive box at the Happy Valley Racetrack where they would entertain family, friends, and business acquaintances alike, and now that he’d come to think about it, there was a big race meeting coming up there on Saturday, and a bigwig party member had been overheard in the tailor shop, all the guys were talking about it, bleating on about a horse that was sure to win the big race. What was the name again? Big Effort, that was it, Big Effort, strangely appropriate really, as it was clear that they would have to make a really big effort to talk Jun out of this ludicrous line of thinking.

Mr Woo placed the odd flutter too, nothing too serious, he always knew when to stop, he’d never bet high stakes, and never more than he could afford to lose, which these days was a considerable amount, but, yes, he would invest a few of his hard-earned Hong Kong dollars on Big Effort at Happy Valley on Saturday. But if he really had to have a wager, he’d liked to have bet on Jun passing the physical training examination, because he knew Jun possessed the Woo gene in spades. Not that he would tell his wife about that. She seemed upset enough about things as it was.

Thirty-Six

Mrs Cresswell at Lion Loans & Finance was hard to age, thought Walter, probably around forty. She wore her long dark hair up in some kind of elaborate bun that Walter imagined must have taken her hours to prepare in the morning and deconstruct at night-times. She was sitting on one side of the boardroom table as he and Karen were shown in.

Black suit, little make-up, very businesslike, very stern, though that might have been the circumstances she found herself in. All the loan applications and relevant documentation were spread over the large polished table.

‘How long has he worked here?’ asked Karen.

‘Ages, longer than me, I’m not sure of the exact time, I can check if you like?’

‘Later. Could you go through the loan application procedure?’ asked Walter.

‘Sure. The customer fills out an application form, like this one here,’ and she showed the detectives a typical form, ‘sends it, or hands it in, together with an application fee and two forms of ID.’

‘And all the applications had relevant ID?’

‘Correct, on the face of it, perfect ID.’

‘How did the applicants pay the application fee?’ asked Karen.

‘In cash, every time, according to the documents here.’

‘Is that usual?’

‘It’s not unusual.’

‘And the ID’s would have been checked out by Donald?’ asked Walter.

‘Correct, and of course they are all forgeries,’ and she passed very plausible forged utility bills across the table.

‘Was Donald ever left alone here?’

‘Yes, especially when we were busy. He would often be the only one here after work, supposedly catching up on things.’

They shared a look at that, as images of Donald Rushnell filled their heads, hard at work, alone at nights in the Lion Loans office, busying himself with loan applications and forgeries and theft, and on quite a grand scale at that.

‘So he had keys?’

‘He did.’

‘Wasn’t anyone else responsible for overseeing and checking the loans that he processed?’ asked Walter.

‘Of course.’

‘And who was that?’ asked Karen.

‘Me. But in my defence, as you can see, the documentation and ID’s look perfect, and all payments on previous existing loans that he arranged were coming through on the nail without a hitch. This was not a quick hit and run raid, this was a long, calculated, and drawn out process. He must have been working on this scam for years, literally.’

‘How were the loans paid out?’

‘By direct transfer.’

‘And they all went to different bank accounts?’ clarified Karen.

‘Correct again.’

‘So, Donald