The Inspector Walter Darriteau Murder Mysteries - Books 1-4 David Carter (autobiographies to read txt) 📖

Friends? Family? A girl? A boy? Becoming a rock star? Did he think it was a prank, or did he recognise his days were exhausted? And most important of all, did Jeffrey Player recognise his killer? Could this case yet be all about Jeffrey, and not Neil? Maybe the killer really did mean to murder Jeff. It was possible. Rule nothing out.

Walter pondered on the expression set on the killer’s face at the precise moment of the execution. Was he smiling, grinning, grimacing, what exactly? Or maybe he showed a cold indifferent face to the world as he went about his foul business. If Walter had to guess he would go for that, the cold indifferent look, though he would never know.

But of course he would, he could ask Neil, for he had witnessed the same pre-killing look the murderer adopted at the moment he was about to end someone’s life. The key question was, why had the killer done it? Where was the motive? If Walter had to guess he would plump for personal gain, for money, pure greed, and if that were the case, he must have been working for someone else, and if that was right, then who, and just as importantly, why?

That was where they should be concentrating their efforts.

Finding the client. Finding the brains behind the operation. Finding the person or persons responsible for winding up and letting go the boy band look-a-like squirt of a killer with a gun, the same person who was running riot on their patch, on his patch.

Bloody cheek!

Would you like to make any comment on reports that Neil Swaythling was shot dead this afternoon?

Gardenia’s words came back to him. She seemed to have her finger on the pulse. Where had she dug up that little gem? She had a nice laugh though, and a sexy giggle, and long after that, the final thoughts that flickered through Walter’s mind before he surrendered to sleep, were of Gardenia Floem, and her cute giggle.

Nine

Luke was at the clock at five to two. There was no sign of Jimmy. He leant on the railings and watched the young women below in their cute summer dresses going about their city business. They all looked so happy and carefree. At first he didn’t even hear him arrive. Sometimes Jimmy was like that, quiet and slippery.

‘Well?’ said Luke.

‘The task appears to have been completed.’

‘Of course it has been completed!’

‘Did you actually see him dead?’

‘I pumped four shots into him, I’m a good shot, I don’t miss, not from that range. The guy walked towards me, he seemed to want it; he seemed to have a death wish. No one could have survived that.’

‘You’d better be right.’

‘I am right, now pay me!’

Jimmy shot him a look that told Luke not to be so lippy.

‘May I have my money now, please, Mister Mitchell.’

That was better.

Jimmy produced a packet from his jacket and slipped it across to Luke and said, ‘It’s not all there.’

‘What do you mean, it’s not all there?’

‘I incurred additional expenses, after your earlier fuck up.’

‘What expenses? How much?’

‘Eight grand, I had to pay out eight grand to fresh runners to locate the target.’

‘Eight grand! Geez! Who did you employ? God?’

Jimmy laughed.

‘It’s your own fault, you shouldn’t have screwed up.’

Luke harrumphed, then said, ‘I’ll have to go, I’m off on my holidays, taking the tart to Italy, gonna screw her senseless.’

Luke made to leave.

‘Um, haven’t you forgotten something?’ said Jimmy.

‘Oh yeah, sorry Jim,’ and he reached inside his jacket and pulled out the envelope containing the gun. Passed it over. Jim peeked inside. Saw it was right, nodded his head. Said, ‘When are you back?’

‘Two weeks.’

‘I might have something else for you.’

‘Cool. You know my number, give me a ring.’

Jimmy nodded, didn’t say a thing, and Luke nodded too and turned about and set off toward the travel agency.

Jimmy sniffed and took out his phone and rang Bunny Almond. Fixed a meet. Pay off his debts. He always paid his debts, even to a lowlife like Bunny Almond, though he wondered how he could reduce his cut. Couldn’t think of an adequate reason. He’d pay him in full, this time. The guy would soon be off his head for a month, but that didn’t matter because Jimmy didn’t plan to use Bunny Almond again. Had too much to say for himself, and anyway, changing runners was always good policy.

FIVE MINUTES LATER Luke bounced into the travel agents.

The same pretty girl was there.

‘How are you today?’ he asked, leaning against the desk and smiling.

‘I’m great and I can see you are too.’

‘There is no point in being miserable, is there, darling?’

‘You’re dead right there.’

‘So how much do I owe ya?’

She glanced at her screen, and pulled an invoice from her file and pointed to the figure.

She had nice nails, deep red and polished; the kind of nails that attracted a man. Luke pulled a fat roll of cash from his trouser pocket and began counting out the twenties. The girl couldn’t look at anything other than the money. After he’d paid over the balance he peeled an extra one and rolled it up and slipped it down her blouse.

‘What’s that for?’ she said, grinning.

‘For being so helpful, you’ve been great.’

‘Thanks, Luke. I hope you have a lovely holiday.’

‘Oh, I intend to, you can be sure of that.’

He collected the tickets and papers and made his way to the door, turned round and smiled and winked and said, ‘You behave yourself,’ and in the way he said it, she imagined he was saying that one day he might come back for her.

She sure hoped so. She couldn’t wait.

What a lovely and caring man he was.

Then he was gone, bouncing up the high street, tickets in hand, a smile fixed on his face. He popped into the bank and made a deposit, then stopped off at Reg the Rag and bought an early evening newspaper, and headed across town toward the park where he could