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

since Victorian days, and probably long before that too, and always would. There were always plenty of hopeless case people who simply couldn’t cope, and he doubted if that would ever change.

‘What’s your husband’s name?’

‘Tommy, Tommy Wright.’

‘And you don’t know where he is now?’

‘Not a clue, not a frigging clue, sorry, Inspector. Could be anywhere.’

‘And did Ellie have a boyfriend, someone special?’

‘Not really. She did knock around with a guy called Derek Nesbitt, but he’s a useless article. All talk and style but no substance. Vacuous Derek, I used to think.’

‘Do you know where he lives?’

Dot nodded and coughed up the address.

‘Look, try not to worry, we don’t know anything definite yet.’

‘But the diamond?’

‘Maybe it fell out. They do that sometimes. Maybe she had burglars, could be anything,’ but the look on Dot’s suddenly lined face betrayed her innermost thoughts.

‘Come on,’ said Walter, ‘let’s go and join Karen.’

BACK AT THE BURNT OUT wreckage Karen said, ‘Petrol fumes,’ pointing at the blackened debris.

‘I thought that,’ said Dot.

Walter sniffed and nodded his head. He glanced at Karen.

‘Can you go and tape off the area from the bottom of the lane? We don’t want loads of people and vehicles contaminating the area.’

Karen nodded and retreated to the Volvo. Walter had wanted to say “crime scene”, but there was no crime. Not yet.

Five minutes later SOCO arrived, all young and keen, all white suited and booted within minutes, three of them in all, two young women and a slightly older man. Walter filled them in and they nodded and stepped to it.

‘Why don’t you go and sit in the car with Karen and tell her all about Ellie,’ suggested Walter.

‘I thought I told you everything.’

‘I’m sure there’s plenty more,’ and Walter nodded at Karen and over toward the little Ford, and Karen received the message and took Dot Wright’s arm and led her away, saying, ‘Tell me all about Ellie, what’s her star sign?’

Walter wanted Dot well away, for his suspected awkward discoveries would not be long in coming. In the meantime he checked out the ground. Lots of blurred footprints, fuzzed up by the rain, and quite a few tyre tracks too. Looked liked Ellie Wright had been busy, a popular girl, and that might make his job all the harder, if harm had indeed come to her, if she had a wide circle of clients.

He ambled back towards the wreckage. Lights had been set up, and a large white almost medieval looking canopy had been erected to keep any further rain off the site. Photographing was going on from every which way. The SOCO people didn’t seem to harbour any doubt, and ten minutes later the guy came over and opened his white-gloved balled fist and revealed a large tooth.

‘Female?’ said Walter.

‘Almost certainly.’

‘How can you tell?’

‘Size mainly, I’d bet my pension on it. And I’d say it’s the tooth of a young woman. It’s in very good nick. And there’s more.’

‘Like what?’

‘Looks like a full skeleton. As you know, human bones are made of material akin to metal, they rarely burn away in a house fire.’

‘Oh dear. We’d better get a doctor down here fast.’

‘Thought you’d have done that already.’

Walter shrugged and gave the guy a look, and took out his mobile and rang Doc Grayling.

Five

Dorothy Wright never went back to work at the Cuppa Cha Café. She couldn’t pluck up the courage to face Shirley and Fred Ross again. She might have felt a little guilty about that, but surely they would understand. Instead, she took to drink. Dot had always enjoyed alcohol, but it became her sole release, and for a whole year she drank as if she’d just staggered from the Gobi desert.

The morning after the events at the foot of Marigold Lane the Chester CID team were in situ in the office, waiting for Walter to start. Everyone was there. Karen Greenwood and Darren Gibbons, Hector Browne, Jenny Thompson, now a full time member of the CID team, and a new guy called Nicky Barr, a short slight bloke, and recently promoted from uniform. He harboured dreams of becoming the best detective Chester had ever seen. That could become annoying.

He’d replaced Jan the Pole, who had experienced a Paul on the road to Damascus moment, when suddenly changing career, from detective, to studying for the priesthood.

Jan the Pole was missed by everyone, but particularly by Jenny, for they’d briefly become an item, and though the rumour was that she was still seeing him, even though he’d been moved across the country to Lincoln, there didn’t seem much future in it, with Jan being determined to become a Catholic priest. It didn’t affect Jenny’s work, leastways that was what she said, but the powers that be were keeping a close eye on things.

Mrs West came out of her office and sat in a chair at the end and pursed her lips and nodded at Walter, and he did the same to Karen, and she opened the meet.

‘Ellie (Eleanor) Wright,’ and a recent image of Ellie Wright wearing a purple white trimmed dress that was a little too short for her, came on the screen. ‘Met her end in an old caravan at the foot of Marigold Lane by the River Dee, near Farndon. She was a prostitute with a wide client base.’

‘Lots of clients, lots of suspects,’ muttered Gibbons.

‘Maybe,’ said Walter, ‘but let’s hear the MO first.’

Gibbons pulled a face and nodded.

‘Accelerant was used to burn down the caravan. Probably petrol. The reports are in, but we cannot be sure if Ellie was already dead before the caravan went up. It was a fierce blaze and not a lot was left.’

‘Might she have done it herself?’ asked Hector Browne.

‘Fair point, Hector,’ said Walter. ‘Her mother was evasive to say the least, when we asked her about Ellie’s possible suicidal tendencies.’

Hector nodded and scribbled some notes, as was his wont.

‘Did she have a boyfriend?’ asked Nicky.

‘Lots of them,’ smirked Darren. ‘I would think.’

‘There’s a big difference