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

haring down toward them, blue lights pulsing on top of the car, not wanting to miss the fun, remembering just in time the stinger was probably still there, unlike a bumble bee, still quite capable of stinging again, and they wouldn’t be the first cop car to get stung by mistake, and it wasn’t going to happen to them.

Gibbons was the first one to the vehicle. Glared up at the guy, through the glass, yelled: ‘Armed police! Step out of the car!’ and to make his point he waved the Heckler & Koch pistol in the guy’s face, and the man could see that clear enough in the light from the headlights, and it was clear from his eyes he understood what he was facing, and in the next moment Gibbons had the door open, and dragged out the shocked guy and flattened him on the tarmac, hands behind his back, safely cuffed in a second, and the searching for a weapon began.

On the far side, Hector dealt with the passenger in the same rapid and efficient manner, ably assisted by Spence and his pal, Jake, as Walter shone his powerful torch down on Man One and Man Two to see if he knew them, to see if he could tell which one of the cretins had murdered Sergeant Stevie Cliffe, in his, Walter’s own front room.

Karen threw open the rear of the vehicle, all the spotters now there too at her shoulder, anxious to see inside, for there was something macabre and irresistible about gawping down at murdered people.

‘Two rolled up items,’ she yelled, ‘still sealed.’

Jun Woo was the first to realise the operation had been a total disaster. She went quickly to Walter’s side. Leant across and said, clear as a bell on the salty night air, ‘It’s not them, Guv.’

Later, Walter thought it interesting that she’d come to him and not Mrs West, and it pleased him, if truth be told. One might have thought she would have informed the senior officer on the scene, but she hadn’t. She’d spoken to him, and that was cool.

Walter nodded, for he knew that Woo was right. Limped toward Mrs West to break the news. She wouldn’t be happy, that was for damn sure.

23.47. HE GENTLY TOOK hold of Mrs West’s arm and pulled her close and whispered, ‘It’s not them, ma’am. Jun is definite on that.’

‘Shit!’ she said, and turned back to the van, and the commotion that was still going on, as the officers were pulling out and unwrapping hefty rolls of something or other, and she called out, ‘Jun!’ and Jun came running.

‘It’s not them?’ asked Mrs West.

‘No, ma’am. One’s too tall and skinny; one’s too short and fat. Definitely not them. The guys we want are similar in height and build, and fitter than these men.’

There was another distinguishing factor that Jun observed, though she wouldn’t say. The short fat guy had bright ginger hair, almost red, picked out in the lights and the torch beams, and she had never seen hair quite like it. She’d rarely seen hair like that back in Hong Kong, unless it came out of a bottle.

Karen yelled, ‘The rolls are new carpets, nothing else!’

Mrs West dismissed Jun, and hurried back with Walter to the van and the cuffed guys, still face down on the tarmac.

‘What are you doing out at midnight?’ she asked.

‘Not a crime, is it?’

‘Just answer the question!’ said Walter.

‘We’re shopfitters, just finished, on our way home, Gerry is staying with me and the missus,’ said the lanky one.

‘Late for shopfitting, isn’t it?’ said Mrs West.

‘It’s always done out of hours, overnight, weekends, that kind of thing, to minimise disruption.’

Walter knew that to be the case and said, ‘That’s usual, ma’am.’

‘Where have you been working?’ persisted Mrs West.

‘Just finished a job in Wigan.’

‘Is there anything in the van there shouldn’t be? Arms, guns, weapons, clubs, drugs?’

‘Course not! I’m a fucking shopfitter... not Jessie James!’

‘Cut the language!’ said Walter.

Mrs West glanced at Richard Spence and his mate who’d been searching the vehicle. Spence shook his head. Said, ‘Clean as a whistle.’

One of the spotters said, ‘And the vehicle’s legal, taxed, insured, MOT’d, the works, not even a faulty brake light.’

‘Stand them up!’ she said, and the guys were hauled back to their feet, and the cuffs released, and the lanky one said, ‘I’m gonna make an official complaint about this.’

‘That’s your prerogative’ said Walter. ‘And we apologise for any inconvenience, but we are looking for dangerous men, murderers, we could not take any chances.’

‘So you say! Abusing your power, if you ask me. And who’s gonna pay for the busted tyres and ruined carpets?’

‘You’ll be adequately compensated,’ said Mrs West.

‘I should fucking think so!’

‘Oi!’ said Walter, ‘I won’t tell you about language again,’ and the lanky one kind of nodded, and shook his head, and looked at his mate, as if to say: What the hell is going on here?

Karen said to Spence, ‘Shift the stinger before someone else gets stung,’ and they went off to do that, as Mrs West took hold of Walter’s arm, and walked him back to her car.

‘Looks like I fouled up.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Maybe we should have stopped suspect vehicles at the tunnel?’

‘There are two tunnels, ma’am, and thousands of vehicles coming through every hour. Imagine the workload and man-hours and disruption that would have caused. And if they wanted to be really clever they might have gone round by Runcorn Bridge. No, you did the right thing, one narrow road in; this is the best place to intercept. Always was, still is.’

‘Thanks, Walter. So what now?’

‘One of three things, ma’am.’

‘Go on.’

‘Either they are still to come, plenty of time yet, or they are not coming at all, or, they have already been.’

‘The young guy, Raymond Edwards, he specifically said they had been instructed to bury the bodies at 1am.’

‘True, but you know what workmen are like, ma’am. They left Minstrel over twelve hours ago. I can’t see them sitting around