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

‘Now where were we?’ he said. ‘Oh yes, I was about to tell you about the wig ’n’ tits. Do you know something, Walter? You were right; I really am enjoying getting this off my chest. It’s therapeutic. But don’t go getting any ideas, remember, it’s great ape for you, my man, just as soon as we have finished.’

‘Wig ’n’ tits?’ said Walter, eager to keep the conversation flowing.

‘Ah yes, they were amazing, those tits.’

‘Yeah?’

‘They were just like the real thing. Not like those ugly comedy jobs you see blokes strapping on the front of their shirts on rag days. No, these looked dead real, and felt real too. God knows where she got them, said they cost her sixty-five quid, came in the morning post, said cancer babes bought them, money well spent, I’d say. Stuck on my chest natural like, God knows how, no glue or nothing, just natural adhesion. On they went, followed by Desi’s red bra, and Bob’s your uncle... or your aunty, to be more accurate. They were part of me, unmovable, except for the occasional flirtatious wobble. I’ve never been a hairy guy myself, never was, even now I only have to shave once a week, and it’s more down than bristle, caused me all kind of angst during my teenage years, I can tell you, and I’ve always waxed my chest too, so they seemed like a natural extension. When I was younger, I always knew I wasn’t gay, never fancied a bloke, ever, but I wasn’t butch either, not like the other guys, different somehow, it was very confusing. Knocked my confidence, it did.’

‘I can understand that.’

‘Then she brought out the wig. Blonde bob thing it was, amazing, cost a packet, there was nothing cheap about Desi, and she did the makeup and painted my fingers and toes and dressed me, and when I looked in the wardrobe mirror afterwards, it was like there was a stranger in the room. I was looking round to see where I was because there were these two beautiful women, chatting and laughing as girls do, sipping a glass of white wine, and I was absent, missing, kind of vanished.’

Walter nodded as if he understood everything.

‘Then Desi said, let’s go out, and I was so unsure about the idea, but she insisted, called me a scared bitch, which kind of worked. So we rang for a cab, went to the station, and jumped a train to Manchester. Had lunch in the big hotel on the square, what’s it called, The Albert, is that it? I can’t remember, but as we were sitting in the lounge afterwards over coffee, these two ultra smart Dutch businessmen came in and sat close by, and starting hitting on us. Told us they were in electronics. Millionaires, they said, over here to buy some big company in Bolton. Thought it might impress us. Desi couldn’t stop grinning at me, as these two handsome guys were pestering us for a dinner date that night.’

‘They had no idea?’ said Walter.

‘Not an inkling! Man, it was weird, and then Desi suggested we went to the loo and that was weird too. The first time I had ever been inside a Ladies’ lavatory. No one looked at me twice. Mind you, checking out some of the dogs in there, it wasn’t surprising. These days I’ve become quite used to it. Occasionally, I make to go in there when I’m dressed as a man. Walter, you wouldn’t believe how confusing life can be. Then we went back to the coffees, and the guys, and gave our apologies and made to leave, and the tall guy stood up and grabbed my arm, and tugged me to one side and asked for my phone number. Just like that, practically begged me for it, said I was the most beautiful English woman he had ever seen, in that cute Dutch accent they have, and yes, I know he probably used that line on all the women, but hell, I didn’t know what to do. Said the first thing that came into my head. Said I was engaged, and that Martin wouldn’t approve, but by God, he was a persistent bugger. I didn’t know men could be like that, refusing to take no for an answer.’

‘How often did you go out with Desi dressed as a woman?’

‘Couple of times a month, we’d make a big deal of it, get all dressed up, go somewhere really swanky, every time we went to Manchester for sure, hang around all the boutiques and department stores, sampling the perfumes, trying on ridiculous dresses, me sitting and waiting in the hairdressers while Desi had her black locks done, me reading Cosmo and giggling, as Desi had her nails done, and then she insisted I had my nails done too, fingers and toes. God, I thought the assistant must surely know, but she didn’t, it was so exhilarating, and afterwards we’d scurry home to Chester and screw each other senseless. Geez, Walter, I can’t find the words to describe it. Best days of my entire life. Best days.’

Walter allowed a decent pause. Sam had that far distant look back on his face. Then Walter said, ‘You were in love with her?’

‘Course I was! What do you think? Isn’t it obvious? Head over heels, completely and utterly. I was mad for her. I’d never felt that way about anyone before. Never.’

‘And she loved you?’

‘Yeah, I think she did, though I know she found it hard to love anyone. That bastard at uni really hurt her. Messed with her mind. I have no idea what he did to her, and I don’t want to know, and she never told me. But sometimes she’d wake up crying in a cold sweat, mumbling, Stop Toby, Stop! And I didn’t think it was sex she was talking about.’

‘What then?’

‘Torture, my friend, that’s how