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

road, spent and alive betting slips still on the bar, weighted down with full pints, and G & T’s and pretty vodkas, discarded racing papers everywhere. Plenty of slim and attractive women in there too, but none that fitted the bill.

Where the hell are you, he-she thing?

Where have you gone?

SAMANTHA HAD JUMPED on the first double-decker bus that came her way, took the four stops south, over the Grosvenor Bridge that afforded a splendid view of the packed racecourse. The horses were coming round the bend, the fourth race of the day under way; another favourite about to take an early bath.

By the time Walter had arrived in the first of the bars Samantha was already home, getting changed, planning a shower, reflecting on a satisfactory day’s work, thinking of dinner, duck breast and Jersey Royals, very nice, the end of an adventure, seven was enough, seven times over, getting ready to go to work, there would be no more killing. None. It was all over and she could celebrate at last.

Walter jumped back on the phone. Rang base. Nothing at the railway station, nothing at the bus depot. Rang the hospital. Gibbons came to the phone.

‘No news, Guv, she’s in with the consultant now.’

Walter clicked off and headed back to the station. Perhaps the he-she thing didn’t need to catch a bus or train. Maybe she lived bang in the centre of the city in any of the thousands of flats and houses crammed within the city walls. But where, he-she thing? Where?

They had missed her this time by a whisker, but they were getting closer, Walter knew that. They would nab her next time for sure; maybe Karen had seen her, might have some vital information, just so long as she was all right. Gibbons shouldn’t have left her alone, none of us should. What were we thinking?

Walter wasn’t to know the he-she thing had retired.

He hurried into the police station. Everyone was back at base, bar Gibbons and Karen.

The de-brief got underway.

Mrs West looked at Walter as if he’d blown his last chance. Said, ‘We almost lost one of our own today.’

That brought it home.

Cresta stared through the window as if in a trance, trying to make sense of it, trying to come up with a nugget of thinking that no one else had stumbled on. Jenny Thompson brought Walter a cup of coffee and set it down with a supportive look.

‘Thanks,’ muttered Walter.

Jenny smiled without showing teeth and retreated.

Mrs West was talking again.

She had a harsh voice. Shrill and hard on the ear.

Walter had not noticed that before, and though she was still speaking, she didn’t say a word, leastways not one that mattered.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

To be accepted on the secret PLACAD programme was the ultimate aim of all the ambitious scientists employed by Trencherman Research at Eden Leys. Desiree Holloway was no different. She was desperate to be included because it brought huge cachet, but far more than that, it was where she felt she belonged. It was where she knew she could make the greatest contribution. 

PLACAD stood for Parkinson’s, Leukaemia, Alzheimer’s, Cancer And Dementia, and the ultimate aim of Eden Leys, aside from defence projects, was to find cures for the five devils, as some of the younger scientists christened them.

Trencherman Research had been set a target of producing results showing they could conquer these diseases within ten years. They were three years into the programme. It wasn’t a matter of if they could produce satisfactory vaccines and cures, but when.

All the scientists believed that, and Desiree was no different.

One morning Desi was called to Professor Mary Craigieson’s office where she was told to sit. There were two faceless gentlemen present who were not introduced and said little.

They asked her about her research; they quizzed her on her social life, though Desiree gained the distinct impression they knew the answers to the questions before they were issued. They asked for her views on PLACAD, and demanded to know where she could produce her weightiest contribution, and they asked about her own health, and in particular, her mental health.

Mental health issues had long been a major concern throughout the industry, stretching way back to 1917, when the serious work began. It was not everyone’s cup of tea; spouted one of the grey suited gents, repeating facts that everyone already knew.

Desiree answered their questions, assuring them she was happy, which she was. She said she gleaned great satisfaction through her work, and that bred happiness. She was healthy, and appeared that way, shiny hair and glowing rouge skin, and confirmed all was well up top, as they described it.

No one knows if all is well up top until it is too late, as all four of them knew when they sat round that desk, and mulled over the question. But her affirmation that mental health was not and had not been a problem for Desiree, was comforting to her inquisitors, and it was on her record.

They asked her if she had any plans for marriage and motherhood. She replied she had no such thoughts and had no intention of ever bearing children. That reply was both satisfactory and unsatisfactory. Satisfactory because it meant that she could concentrate on her work at Trencherman without maternity interruptions, unsatisfactory because wasn’t it normal for any woman to want to produce children? Could that lack of interest point to a slight problem up top?

Perhaps that should be investigated further.

They dismissed Desi from the room and told her to wait.

Professor Craigieson assured the gentlemen there were millions of women who did not wish to produce children, and that it would be ridiculous to deny her access to PLACAD on such flimsy grounds. The gents reluctantly concurred and PLACAD AUTHORISED was stamped on her record.

Desiree was called back and given the news, subject to her signing and agreeing to the new five way Security Secrets Agreement, drawn up by the CIA in far away Langley, Virginia, in cahoots