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

‘Bloody good question.’

The doorbell rang again.

‘Probably another packet he’d forgotten,’ said Colin. ‘Another ten grand would be nice.’

Chrissie slurped the dregs of her tea and set off for the front door and opened up. He was a big man, that Inspector Darriteau, not tall, but wide enough, almost bear-like, as if he was going to take her into his arms and squeeze the living daylights out of her, until she revealed what she knew, and that would be an experience she would never forget, and he stood there and half smiled and said, ‘Hello again, there are just one or two more questions I’d like to ask. Can I come in?’

Chrissie tried everything she knew not to look and act surprised, to act nonchalantly, though she wasn’t sure she succeeded, probably overdid it, the casualness and bonhomie, and it was only when he had stepped into the hallway that she saw the skinny blonde was with him too.

Chrissie shouted through the house, ‘Colin! It’s Inspector Darriteau back with a few more questions.’

Something in Walter’s DNA told him that that was a wee warning for her husband, though he might have been wrong. Hint of desperation, maybe. Everyone always switched on their best attention and manners when the police came calling, at least they did if it was Walter Darriteau, except for the lowlifes who simply didn’t care, and thankfully, in twenty-first century Britain, there still weren’t too many of them.

Colin was sitting at the table, an empty plate before him, crumbs of white cheese on the plate, a definite aroma of pickled onions in the air, probably homemade, because Walter had noted the stocks of jams and pickles in the kitchen cupboard when he had searched the house.

‘Would you like a cuppa tea?’ she asked.

‘No thanks,’ said Walter. ‘Just had one.’

She glanced enquiringly at the girl, couldn’t remember her name. Karen half smiled and shook her head.

‘Sit down,’ said Colin, showing more interest in the girl. What a fine young woman she was, and what a wonderful wife she would make for Donald, and a fine mother for their grandkids, though that now seemed somewhat unlikely.

Walter and Karen sat at the table. Chrissie poured herself another mug of stewed tea and stood against the Aga cooker and glanced down and tried a queer smile.

‘More questions?’ asked Colin.

‘Just one or two,’ said Walter. ‘In the photos on Donald’s wall, there’s one of him with his arm in a sling. What happened there?’

Colin laughed. Chrissie said, ‘Is that all?’

‘So?’ said Karen. ‘What did?’

‘Not sure of the relevance of it,’ said Colin, ‘but if you must know, one of the porkers knocked him clean off his feet in the sty. Banged his wrist against the breezeblock wall, broke it clean as a whistle. The average Joe in the street has no idea how strong a full grown porker can be, ferocious brutes they are too, especially when roused, poor Donny was so embarrassed by it.’

Chrissie sipped her tea and said, ‘He kept making up all kinds of idiotic explanations as to how he’d broken his arm. Drove Maisie crazy with it all.’

Walter knew the next question to ask, but let Karen do it for him.

‘Who’s Maisie?’

‘The lass from down the lane,’ said Colin.

Chrissie jerked her head southwards, as if to say, that-a-way!

‘Willow Lodge,’ said Colin. ‘They have a similar op to ourselves, or at least, they did have.’

Chrissie joined in. ‘They got out before it was too late. Sensible people! Turned the place into an upmarket B&B. Big conservatory, planning permission to build an extension, God alone knows what else, you know how it is.’

‘And Maisie?’ asked Walter.

‘Went down to work in the big smoke,’ said Colin.

‘What did Donald tell her, about the broken bone?’ asked Karen.

‘Crazy stuff,’ said Colin. ‘One day he said he’d been run down by a maroon Rolls Royce, another time he said he’d foiled a bank robbery in the city, and your lot had arrived just in time to find Donald wrestling with the blaggers on the pavement...’

‘Yes,’ said Chrissie. ‘And another time he said he’d broken it playing rugby for Chester first XV.’

‘He’s never played rugby in his life, drove the poor girl nuts with his drivel, I think he was trying to impress her, but even I could see it was winding her up and getting her annoyed,’ said Colin.

‘Between you and I, Inspector,’ Chrissie said, lurching into mum-speak, ‘I think he was sweet on her, big crush, like, you know how it is, started dreaming big dreams, hoped she’d say yes to him, hoped she’d fall for him.’

‘But she didn’t!’ said Colin. ‘He fouled it up big time with his stupid stories. Drove her away in the end.’

‘Has he been in touch?’ asked Karen.

‘No!’ said Chrissie, a quick-fire answer if ever there was one.

‘Not yet,’ said Colin. ‘We’re still hopeful.’

The front door bell rang again.

Chrissie said, ‘My goodness, we are in demand today,’ and went through to the hall. Then she was back with a handful of mail, bills, sales leaflets, a card from Aunty Judy on holiday in Magaluf. ‘I suppose you’ll want to see all this?’ she said to the seated police officers. ‘Check if there’s anything from Donald, you know?’

Walter shook his head. Chrissie smiled.

‘Have you had any other callers today?’ asked Karen.

‘No!’ said Chrissie, another quick-fire answer.

Colin said, ‘Is that everything? I have some sprouts and apples to pick.’

‘Yeah,’ said Walter. ‘That’s about everything for now, we’ll be in touch.’

Chrissie saw them out, went into the front room and squinted from behind the curtain into the watery sunshine to check they’d gone. She watched them head down the lane toward Willow Lodge, no doubt to check on their stories, thought Chrissie. Went back in the kitchen, holding her chest. ‘Well!’ she said. ‘What do you make of that? My heart is beating so fast!’

Colin exhaled and shook his head.

‘What on earth did you do with the money?’

‘Open the bread-bin.’

She took the lid off the old enamel container. One