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

12.15. JUN WOO FOUND the cab rank easily enough, just in time to see the yellow saloon pulling away. An old lady joined her and said, ‘There’ll be another one along in a tick,’ and Jun thanked her and waited, and waited, and finally another cab turned up, smaller and older, but working and ready for business. The driver actually got out and opened the back door for her, and Jun Woo stepped in.

‘Where to, darling?’

‘Chester police headquarters.’

‘You got it.’

‘How long will it take?’

‘Depending on traffic, about twenty minutes.’

‘That’s good.’

‘You’re not in trouble, are ya? Been a naughty girl, have we?’

Jun smiled. ‘No, not me.’

‘Least the rain’s held off,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ and she glanced out of the window, as they sped through green countryside and descended a short way, and up and over a narrow bridge over a canal where she glimpsed a blue and yellow narrowboat, with a happy dog on the bows, running back and forth and barking happily.

‘What do you want the copshop for?’

Jun thought about that one and said, ‘I have friends there,’ and as she said it, she hoped that she did.

They took a right fork at the traffic lights by a garage, and there were houses and buildings on both sides of the road, and a pub on the left side, and they passed a large hospital on the right, where a gaggle of nurses were coming out after going off shift, and a petrol station and another pub and a supermarket, and then it was clear they were heading into the city, judging by the number of cars and trucks and buses and bikes, and amount of exhaust fumes, and the speed of the traffic that was coming down to zero, as they tagged on the end of the queue.

‘This is the hard bit,’ he said. ‘Bloody traffic, should be banned!’

Jun nodded and gazed over the driver’s shoulder, and ahead at the long crawling snake, heading slowly into the city. If she knew where to go she’d have jumped out and run that way, but that wasn’t an option. Nothing for it but to sit back and creep into town with all the others.

12.20. ‘YOU’LL NEVER guess what?’ said Mrs West.

‘What?’ said Walter, when in truth he wanted to say something like: The Pope’s a Catholic, England are rubbish at cricket again, the crime rate’s fallen dramatically, Gibbons is an infuriating idiot, weather’s turning colder, etc etc, just how was he supposed to answer a womanly question like: You’ll never guess what?

‘What?’ he repeated.

‘I’ve just had a call from London.’

‘And?’

‘The Hong Kong Police Force.’

‘What about them?’

‘They have an officer, working in the UK, working undercover, on people trafficking.’

‘And?’

‘She’s operating on our patch.’

‘She? Where?’

‘Ellesmere Port.’

Walter pulled a face. That made sense, lots of shipping on the fat river, lots of industry too, lots of big soulless sheds of factories, some of them quiet and remote, some of them empty, some of them places of ill repute. He’d often seen gypsies and travellers bunking down round there, looking for somewhere quiet, looking to be left alone, an ideal place for hiding workers, and turning them into production line slaves, and some travellers weren’t averse to some kind of similar business either. Come to think of it, weren’t some of the listed electronics factories in Ellesmere Port?

‘Are we going to meet this undercover-queen?’

‘Yes! Didn’t I say? She’s on her way here now.’

12.21. THE TAXI HURRIED round the ring road, dual carriageway, traffic dispersing every which way.

‘Nearly there,’ said the cabbie, nodding ahead at the beige block that was hoving into view. ‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘That’s the head copshop.’

‘Great,’ she said, sitting up straight.

‘What are you doing tonight,’ the cabbie asked, and not waiting for an answer he continued, ‘Fancy going out for a drink?’

‘No!’ she said, abruptly.

Ah well, worked sometimes, thought the cabbie, and he pulled the car into the kerb opposite the police station, on a double yellow line.

‘I’m married,’ she said. ‘My husband wouldn’t like it.’

Funny, she didn’t look the married kind.

Jun Woo had never been married, never come close, but there was plenty of time yet, early twenties career girl, for the time being, though she secretly hoped that one day some handsome Hong Konger would win her heart, and beg for her hand in marriage and make her happy, and she thought back to those carefree schooldays at Saint Mary’s College in Hong Kong, and the young kid who’d become totally smitten with Jun for some reason, and had suffered fearsome ribbing because he wanted to woo Woo. He never had a chance. Woo Wooooo!

‘How much?’

‘Fifteen quid.’

She took out the bundle of cash and peeled off a twenty. Slipped it to the driver and said, ‘Keep the change.’

‘Cheers, girl,’ he said, pocketing the money with relish. ‘You can get into my cab anytime,’ as Jun jumped out and ran between the fast traffic and crossed the dual carriageway, and headed into the main entrance of the Chester police headquarters.

12.25. ‘CAN WE GET KAREN in on this?’ suggested Walter.

‘Course! Bring her in.’

Walter stood and opened the door and glanced across the office. Karen was watching the door for that very eventuality. Walter nodded her in.

Mrs West repeated what she knew, and then her phone rang and it was the desk sergeant downstairs asking for Walter. Mrs West handed him the phone.

‘Sorry to bother you, Inspector, but there’s a Chinese girl here, says she’s Acting Inspector Jun Woo of the Hong Kong Police Force, she’d got no ID, no nothing except loads of cash, but she says she’s expected. I tried to chase her off, Guv, but she’s most insistent.’

‘She’s genuine, Bill. I’ll send Karen down.’

‘Geez! She looks like she should still be in school.’

‘We’re all getting older, Bill. Karen’s on her way.’

12.35. KAREN PUSHED open the door to the general office and ushered Jun inside. Mrs West, Walter, Jan, and Jenny, just back from Cambrian, turned