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

Desiree’s face beamed like no other the panel had witnessed. The smile that broke across her face was amazing. Her large white teeth reflected the neon light back across the desk; her whole demeanour one of total elation. She would be included among the world elite in her field. She was determined, single handedly if necessary, to produce a cure for one of the five devils, and particularly Alzheimer’s, which had afflicted her father.

EXPERIMENTS ON LIVE human patients at Eden Leys were one of the key benefits of being accepted into PLACAD. Prior to that, Desiree was unaware such research work existed at Eden, or anywhere else.

But she understood the benefits.

Experimenting on chimpanzees was one thing, experimenting on live human beings was something else. The possibilities were endless.

Where the patients came from she did not know, or care. All of them were severe sufferers of that dreadful disease, and all died soon after the experiments were completed.

Afterwards they were issued with standard death certificates and taken to the on-site crematorium. She never saw a relative attend the brief ceremony in the all faiths chapel that sat alongside, and Desi attended every service whenever she could.

All too often, she was the only one there.

WHY SHE BEGAN TAKING her work home, she could not explain. She had bought a smart maisonette in Chester that sat just above the weir, and the old stone bridge on the Handbridge bank of the river. During summer evenings she would sit on her balcony, alone with her thoughts, Singapore Sling in hand, gazing out toward the ancient city across the water, as the River Dee tumbled over the weir, the relaxing sound of constant dashing, crashing water, as it made its inevitable way toward the New Cut, and the wide estuary beyond.

Samples, blood, data, phials, all found their way to the office she had created in her spare bedroom. Security at Eden had become lax. There had never been a problem detected before, and that contributed to a lowering of standards. Vehicles were not properly checked, sometimes not at all. Security staff were poorly trained and badly managed. They did not know what was going on inside, and had little understanding of what they should look for. It was only a matter of time before it all blew up in someone’s face.

In the meantime, Desi’s collection of data and samples exploded. Sometimes she would sit and stare at them. Perhaps it gave her a feeling of power. After all, much of the data and samples were products of her pioneering work. Why shouldn’t she bring some of it home? It was hers.

If the neighbours had known of the toxic substances and discarded body parts living on the other side of the thin walls, they would have been aghast. Perhaps she spirited them away as some form of unconscious protection from the voices that infected her head, though she would not have agreed with that.

Didn’t everyone hear voices?

Didn’t everyone steel themselves when necessary and say: Come on, you old fool, you must deal with this!

Didn’t everyone do that?

Isn’t that the same?

Voices in the head.

Desiree explained away her troubles in that way.

It wasn’t a problem for her.

It wasn’t anything she couldn’t deal with.

It wasn’t worth worrying about.

Live human tissue experimentation was producing results.

That was the only thing that mattered.

She was closing in on the ultimate prize.

Conquering one of the devils.

A huge breakthrough was expected any day.

One day Desiree Holloway would be feted.

One day her second bedroom trophies might include a Nobel Prize.

Chapter Forty

Walter was denied access to his sergeant for the whole of the day after she had been attacked. He tried to bully his way in by saying she was a vital witness in an ongoing murder hunt. He was rebuffed. She almost died, she’s still ill; you can’t see her today, go away; try again tomorrow.

Walter harrumphed and went home and sat up all night, thinking.

He stirred himself at first light, ran the electric shaver over his lined face, cleaned his aching teeth, applied deodorant, and left the house. The birds were singing as he ambled down the tree-lined road. Another fine day forecast. At the junction he jumped a bus the few stops into town. Went to the market, bought a bunch of seedless grapes from the surprised to see him sellers, who were just setting up.

Jumped a cab to the Countess Hospital.

They were surprised to see him there too.

He was asked to wait, perched on a padded bench at the end of the corridor. Breakfasts were being wheeled in. Sizzling bacon and eggs, porridge, orange juice, all came trundling by.

No one offered him any. He wasn’t hungry.

He’d try to catch a sister’s eye, a doctor’s. But they would rush by without recognising his nod. When they did, he was told to wait. The patient was not ready to see visitors. He would have to continue waiting, or he could go home. It was his choice.

He waited, nibbling on the sourish grapes.

At gone eleven, a doctor appeared. A young Indian man, greasy parted hair, the demeanour of one who’d worked a twelve-hour shift.

‘You’re waiting to see Karen Greenwood?’

‘Yes,’ said Walter, getting to his feet.

‘She’s been very ill, a close call.’

‘I realise that.’

‘You can see her for five minutes, no more; then you must leave. Understand?’

‘Sure.’

The doc bobbed his head and said, ‘Follow me.’

She was in a room by herself. Sitting up, or propped up against a bank of pillows, hooked up to a drip.

She looked appalling.

The last time Walter saw her, she was purple. Now she was as white as milk, her blue eyes sunken in her head, like circles of lapis lazuli tossed into deep snow. Her usual vibrant blonde hair was lank, parted in the middle, and tied back revealing extensive bandaging around her neck.

Walter nodded down and pulled up a seat.

‘How are you?’

A slight movement of the head, a forced smile, a croaked, ‘OK.’

‘I bought you these,’ he said, setting the grapes