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

‘We don’t have to think about a thousand pounds!’ said Colin. ‘We’d notice an extra grand coming our way, I can tell you that!’

‘Why do you ask about money?’ asked Chrissie.

Walter sat back in his chair. Pursed his lips and said, ‘Because funds have gone missing from his employer.’

Colin exhaled.

Chrissie’s hand went to her mouth, and then Colin asked, ‘How much?’

‘A substantial amount.’

‘And you think Donald has stolen it?’

‘There is evidence to say that.’

‘What evidence?’

‘Forged documents, bank accounts opened in false names, unauthorised loan applications, that kind of thing.’

Chrissie began to cry. Colin leant over and took hold of her arm.

‘Are you aware of him having multiple bank accounts?’

‘No!’ said Colin.

‘So he didn’t receive regular bank statements from lots of different banks?’

‘No, only his own.’

‘We are going to have to search the house, it’s now a crime scene.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Chrissie, snivelling into a paper hanky.

‘And just to be clear, he does not possess, and never has possessed, a computer?’

‘Only one of those games things, a Segado, or whatever they are called,’ said Colin, ‘but he soon grew out of it.’

‘Okay,’ said Walter. ‘Are you in the van today?’

Colin nodded.

‘Where is it?’

Colin raised his arm and pointed in the vague direction of the car park and said, ‘Do we need a solicitor?’

‘Have you done anything wrong?’

‘No we have not!’ said Chrissie.

Walter pulled a face as if to say, you don’t need a solicitor, but instead he said, ‘You can call one when we get back to your place, if you feel the need.’

Colin nodded and stood up.

Chrissie blew her nose and followed suit.

Walter said, ‘We’ll see you back at the house,’ and then they were gone. Walter asked Karen to organise a car, and a quick one at that, and on the way to Waverton they passed the old mauve van just as he planned, as if it were going backwards.

On the brief journey Walter said, ‘Any news on the bank accounts?’

‘Yes, all cleared out, left a single pound in each one, took the rest out in cash.’

‘Only to be expected.’

‘Quite clever really.’

‘I disagree. He’s now looking at a lifetime of trouble and heartache, not to mention the stress he’s brought down on his ageing parents.’

‘Mmm... yeah, you’re probably right.’

‘I am right.’

She glanced across at him. The big bear of a man, he hadn’t said that with any undertone of smugness or self-satisfaction, just because it was a known fact. At least to him, as he saw things. She smiled to herself and pressed on. She was, once again, enjoying her job, and that was everything to her, and she suspected it was exactly the same for him. Maybe that’s what made the pair of them such a great team.

Thirty-Nine

Minstrel Electronics were very busy. They had recently secured a big new order from some Cambridge hi-tec business for miniature circuit boards. The price was nice, but the pressure was on to get the product out of the door. Mr Pryce called Mr Brinton to his office.

‘What’s your best guess as to when the Cambridge order will be ready?’

‘A week, maybe ten days.’

‘Too long! It needs to be a week, tops.’

Brinton frowned. He knew that would be tight.

‘Go and kick arse. Throw your weight around. Tell them it must be a week. Non negotiable. There’s a follow-up order depending on it.’

Brinton grunted and stood up.

‘Everything else okay?’ asked Pryce.

‘Yeah, nothing I can’t handle.’

Pryce stared at his partner and nodded slowly. ‘I’ll see you later, there’s something else I want to talk to you about.’

Brinton mumbled, ‘See you later,’ and he left the office and headed down the corridor toward the double doors. He unlocked them, went inside and locked them behind him. He was standing in the inner hallway, maybe twelve feet square, windowless, grey green walls, grey carpet, another set of locked double doors ahead. To the right was another solid door that led into a small room that was reserved for pep talks, and other things besides. The door was closed and locked and silent as Brinton went on to the double doors ahead that led into the assembly plant. Unlocked them and stepped inside. Locked the doors behind him.

Sterile tiled floor, cold in winter, hot and clammy in summer, a hum of activity, modern industry at work, small precise machines, long modern parallel work benches, lots of people moving about, supervisors doing what supervisors do, a hundred and fifty people all told, give or take, heads down, hard at work, going about their business, slaving away on the latest big order, making money for Pryce and Brinton and the outside investors and Minstrel Electronics too, all neatly set out in one gigantic windowless room.

A couple of the closest circuit board assemblers glanced up at Brinton as he strolled past, but soon returned to their work.

Away to the left was an open mezzanine floor, built on metal stilts. It housed the accommodation for the supervisors’ office. Four desks, four basic office chairs, filing cabinets, a table for laying out plans, computer equipment, printers, diaries, pads, pens, tapes, disks, much the same as you could see in any factory office anywhere in the world. But no phones of any kind, not even internal ones, no Internet connections, no email, no mobiles, no tablets, nothing in the way of telecommunications. Not permitted, not allowed. A metal staircase led up to the mezzanine floor. Brinton skipped up the stairs, his heavy shoes making metallic pings as he ascended.

Monica was there, sitting at the far desk, and Monica was the senior supervisor. It would be her who’d get into trouble if the orders weren’t delivered on time, and her who’d feel the pressure from senior management, just as she suspected she was about to do right there, as Brinton appeared on the level and caught her eye. Monica was talking to Debs and Debs was second in charge. Debs seemed to be getting some grief from Monica, and Brinton was pleased to see that. Debs looked over her shoulder, saw