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

going to go down well, is it? Sorry God, I’ve been eating your children for these past fifty years.’

That little laugh again. Some people might find that attractive. Predatory men, for example. This guy would be in big demand in a high security prison. How would he cope with that? Maybe he’d like it. Maybe it was time to change the subject.

‘Tell me about Desiree?’

‘Just you remember, Darriteau, this time tomorrow, you’ll be long gone! Kaput!’

‘There’s not a lot I can do about that.’

‘You are right there, pal!’

‘Tell me about Desiree?’

‘What do you want to know?’

‘Everything. I’ve got time,’ and forgetting his dire situation for a second, Walter couldn’t keep a sly grin from spreading over his drooping chops.

‘That’s one thing you don’t have!’

Walter glanced at the clock.

‘It’s only quarter past eleven. I’m not due on till eight. No one will miss me till nine. That’s ten hours away. We’ve got plenty of time. Tell me about Desiree? After all, it’s what this thing’s all about, isn’t it?’

Sam backed away. Sat in the chair in the corner. Crossed his legs. Thought a moment.

‘She was strikingly beautiful, not classically beautiful, but once you’d seen her, you’d never forget her.’

A moony look came over his fair face, the kind of look Jenny Thompson occasionally portrayed when she was reading those love novels in the lunch break.

‘She meant a lot to you?’

‘She was everything to me! She said we were soul mates. I was her other half, and she sure as hell was mine.’

‘And you started wearing her clothes. Was that before she died, or afterwards?’

‘Before, don’t be ridiculous, long before!’

‘Why did you do that?’

He closed his eyes, as if remembering, as if he were thinking things through, as if he didn’t want to answer, as if maybe he was ashamed of the answer, thinking he might come across as some kind of weirdo.

‘You can tell me, Sam, I’m going to meet my maker, remember. No one will ever know.’

‘Just so long as you understand that! When we have finished talking, that stuff,’ and he pointed to the bottles, ‘is going into you!’

Walter glanced back at the table, and the bottles.

Didn’t like what he saw.

‘What’s with the different coloured tops?’

Sam smiled. ‘RGB, red, green, blue.’

‘I can see that. What’s the difference?’

Sam grinned again, not so pretty this time.

‘Red... is rat. Green... is great ape; chimpanzee, to be exact. Blue is basset hound, pretty doggy to you and me. And the thing is, Walter, I am going to give you the choice of which you’d prefer. Interesting, eh?’

It was interesting all right, but not that interesting, and anyway Walter didn’t appreciate the thread of conversation, preferred to talk about Desiree Holloway, didn’t want to talk about the blood in the bottles at all. But before he could say anything, Sam was talking again.

‘Come on, Wally; rat, doggy, or chimp?’

‘I can’t possibly decide that.’

‘You don’t make a decision, you get them all! And you get them now!’

It was a threat that Walter took seriously. Talking about it seemed to rile the guy, and that was always frowned on in hostage school. Rule number one: Never make the hostage taker mad, never antagonise them. Another rule broken. It wasn’t the first; and sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.

‘What’s in the glass phial?’

‘Ah, now that’s an interesting question. It’s what we call witches’ brew. Blow you away, it would, blow the whole street away, come to that, I haven’t decided yet what I’m going to do with it. But take it from me, Wally baby, you don’t want to get too close to it.’

‘Suits me, Sam.’

‘Red, green, or blue? Last chance!’

‘Green.’

Sam relaxed in the chair.

‘Great ape! Good choice. Any reason?’

‘Our nearest living relative; seemed logical.’

Sam nodded and said, ‘I’d have chosen green too, if I were in your shoes,’ and he went into thinking mode again, and Walter didn’t want that. You could never tell what the guy was thinking about, or what he would do next.

Walter said, ‘Tell me more about Desiree?’

Sam smiled at her memory. He couldn’t help himself.

‘Tell me about how you got into cross-dressing.’

‘Why should I?’

‘I’m trying to paint in the background, to understand everything about the case, about you. It’ll let me die happy, my last dying wish, if you like.’

‘Desiree didn’t die happy!’

‘Why not? Tell me about it, Sam; it will do you good to get it off your chest. Why didn’t Desiree die happy?’

‘It’s very complicated.’

‘I am sure it is. We’ve got time, Sam. Tell me everything about Desiree. She sounds such a fascinating person. I’d really like to know.’

‘She was a genius.’

‘Really? A genius. Wow!’

Sam nodded.

‘Far too good for this world.’

‘Tell me all about Desiree, Sam, it’s killing me not knowing.’

Pretty boy giggled.

‘It’s killing you knowing, that’s your problem.’

‘I can live with that.’

‘You can die with it too.’

‘We all have to die sometime.’

‘Yeah, but not today, eh?’

He lifted his right hand and made a gun shape and pointed it at Walter’s head and said, ‘Bang, bang, you’re toast.’

‘Tell me about Desiree, Sam... please.’

It was the please that did it. Sam always knew he was a soft touch.

‘You really want to know?’

‘Yeah. Sure. Everything.’

‘One condition.’

‘Name it.’

‘You don’t tell anyone,’ and he did that pretty boy laugh again.

‘Agreed,’ said Walter.

‘All right, Walter, Wally, Inspector Darriteau. Why did you never make Superintendent, by the way? Don’t answer that, I can guess, not clever enough, eh, sticks out a mile, now where were we?’

‘You were going to tell me about Desiree.’

‘Yeah, you got it, all right; just this once, and afterwards you get the green.’

‘If that’s what you want.’

‘It is what I want.’

‘You’re the man.’

‘Don’t you forget it!’

Chapter Forty-Six

DC Gibbons arrived at Thomas Telford house at five past ten. Went to the door and pressed fifty. Karen’s metallic voice appeared to one side of the door. ‘Hello?’ she croaked.

‘Hi there.’

‘Come on up,’ and the door sprang open.

Up in the flat Karen whispered, ‘Do you fancy a beer?’ opening the fridge and demonstrating the well packed shiny green cans.

‘Nah, rather have