The Inspector Walter Darriteau Murder Mysteries - Books 1-4 by David Carter (best finance books of all time .txt) π
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- Author: David Carter
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On to number six, Iain Donaldson. He smelt of books, and domineering women, probably an insurance clerk or something similar, mused Corla. He couldnβt murder a woman if he tried. Corla doubted he could fight his way out of a paper bag. A timewaster, and a waste of time.
But number seven was not a waste of time. Michael Flanagan, he of the recent haircut. She wondered why he had done that, and how long his hair had been before heβd had it trimmed. He could kill; she knew that from the first moment, though whether he had killed Belinda, she still harboured doubts. She tried to sniff him without appearing to do so. There was nothing there, so she was reduced to a more pronounced sniff that none of those men present could have missed. Still very little, just that tiny trace of man.
He wasnβt sweating, and he wasnβt nervous. Here was a man like Geronimo who could go places and leave little or no trace of his presence. Here was a man totally in control of his own body, and what a fine and strong body it was too, powerful and threatening. Corla lingered. She imagined him wielding a baseball bat. What a sight that would have been. Terrifying, but exciting too. She didnβt want to move along the line. Yet still her overlong inspection and presence did not unnerve him. He wasnβt only strong in body, but incredibly strong mentally, and that was a rare combination. God had been unusually generous when bestowing gifts on this gentleman.
She wanted to ask him if he had murdered Belinda Cooper, but guessed that would have been beyond her brief, and though his answer would undoubtedly have been a curt denial, she could have deduced things from the intonation in his words. Maybe she was in the wrong job. Maybe the man Darriteau should make an appointment and employ her for her expertise. For a brief second she let her mind run riot.
βCorla,β whispered Walter, easing her on to the final fellow.
He smelt of cheap burgers and overdone onions, probably unemployed, possibly unemployable, maybe hauled in from the local Job Centre, imagined Corla, a place filler, a deliberate attempt to mislead her by people who didnβt believe in her gifts, a red herring who stunk out the place. She shook her head, and Walter said, βThank you, Bob, just give us a few more minutes.β
BACK IN THE SOUNDPROOF room next door Walter and Karen glanced at Corla. Walter said, βWell, what did you make of that?β
She scratched her chin and rubbed her warts and said nothing.
βWas he there?β asked Karen, softly. βThe man you saw coming out of Belindaβs place?β
βItβs none of them,β she said. βBut itβs all of them.β
Walter jerked his head back and took a second take of her face, and said, βI donβt follow. How do you mean?β
βTheyβre all involved in the case, arenβt they? Except the two ringers you threw in at each end, they were just so obvious. But all the others are in there somewhere, and at least two of them are quite capable of killing women.β
βUnfortunately we are not here to discuss conjecture or theory,β said Walter. βIlluminating though that might be.β
βPity,β she said. βI could tell you things.β
βWhich two?β asked Karen.
βKaren!β said Walter, and he slowly shook his head.
βFour and seven, and maybe number three as well.β
βThe only thing that matters is whether or not the man you saw leaving Belindaβs house is in that line-up,β said Walter, and he pointed at the glass.
βNo!β she said βHe wasnβt there, you are looking in the wrong place.β
Walter sighed and shook his head.
Karenβs backbone tingled. The worst result sheβd feared had come to pass. Walter turned the intercom back on. βThank you, Bob,β he said. βThat is all for today, thank you all for your attendance and patience, everyone is excused. Good afternoon.β
βThank God for that!β said Speight, βand whereβs my fucking apology?β
βYouβll wait till hell freezes over before you get that,β said Flanagan.
Speight nodded and said, βAnyone fancy a quick pint?β
Gareth Williams, Iain Donaldson, and Miroslav Rekatic made their excuses and left, but the other four were up for it, and they made a beeline for the nearest boozer, amongst much loud and cocky conversation.
WALTER AND KAREN TOOK Corla back upstairs and Jenny produced tea without waiting to be asked.
βSo sorry,β said Corla.
βYouβve nothing to be sorry for,β said Walter.
βI feel as if I have let you down.β
βNot at all, if the man wasnβt there, he wasnβt there.β
βSome of the others were involved though, werenβt they?β
βI really canβt discuss that.β
βNo, of course you canβt.β
βFinish your tea and Iβll get one of the young men to run you home.β
Corla nodded and drank the tea.
βNicky! Can you run Miss Revelation home?β
βCourse, Guv. My pleasure.β
Corla and Karen and Walter shared a look of gentle disappointment, as Walter said. βWeβll be in touch.β
βIβd like that,β she said. βI could help you, you know.β
Walter bobbed his head and escorted Corla to the door. Karen left them to it, for they seemed awfully pally all of a sudden.
Twenty minutes later Hector came back in. His face was swollen, his top lip crooked like some kind of fifties rock star.
Gibbons looked across at his face and said, βThatβs a big improvement.β
βFunny funny!β
βWhat did you have done?β
βTwo fillings. All done with now, thank God. How did it go here?β
βDrew a blank, though Karen seemed to think it was worthwhile.β
βI did, as it happens,β she said, βI think sheβs a talented lady, that Corla,β and she turned to Walter and said, βGuv, thereβs something Iβve been meaning to talk to you about.β
βGuv, Guv!β yelled Jenny, and everyone turned
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