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

out, befitting a man of his status, and he got hot water on the go, and set Monica moving too, cleaning up the room.

THE PHONE CALL THE lorry driver took was from his manager. The guy had wanted to know how much room was still left on the wagon.

‘Not much. About an eighth.’

‘That’ll do, I’ve another pickup for you.’

The driver cursed. Didn’t want the hassle of additional cargo, another collection address, another delay, another job to complete.

It’s called “groupage”, and the driver was well aware of that.

Groupage: the grouping together of several different consignments into a full trailer or container load. It’s also known in the transport world as consolidation, and more often than not it’s the cheapest and most efficient way to transport goods. It can turn a loss-making trip into a nicely profitable one, that little extra cargo makes all the difference. That was the plan. It was also a pain in the neck for drivers in a hurry.

‘What and where?’

‘A van engine at the Vauxhall car plant,’ and he gave the driver the address. ‘Should go on sweet.’

‘I know it, leave it with me,’ and the driver rang off and cursed aloud, for he knew he’d be late back to Cambridgeshire and miss his opportunity with the girl.

The call had saved Jun Woo too. She’d no longer be faced with trying to leave a speeding lorry on the highway. She’d cut her way out of the box, gave herself some room to stretch her arms and legs, and by God they were sore, as she carefully began work on the industrial strength polythene. She didn’t want to hack it to pieces, didn’t want long loose strands attracting the driver’s attention in the wing mirrors. Had to be careful, take it slowly; it wouldn’t do to mess up at this late stage.

11.05. KAREN ROARED into the car park at Cambrian Electronics. They’d been delayed in traffic, an extra wide load moving through the city at supposedly out of rush hour times.

Jumped out, slammed the door, Walter followed. Jan and Jen’s car was neatly parked in the corner. Karen pushed the office door open and Walter followed her in. Two guys were at the end of the corridor, one slim and slight Oriental, one white, short and stocky, bull-like and intimidating. They were talking animatedly with Jan and Jenny.

Jenny saw Walter and introduced him.

‘This is Inspector Darriteau. This is Mr Williams and this is Mr Chang.’

Everyone nodded and Walter said, ‘So what’s going on here?’

‘Seems we have a small problem with an illegal worker,’ said Williams. The voice didn’t quite match the man. Powerful fit fella, high pitched weaky-freaky-squeaky voice, funny how it works out like that sometimes.

‘It’s more than one illegal worker, Guv,’ said Jan. ‘Much more.’

‘I am sure it’s nothing that can’t be sorted out, brother,’ said the guy, looking into the back of Walter’s dark eyes.

Brother, be buggered, thought Walter and then he said, ‘Where’s Jessica Stone?’

Williams and Chang shared a puzzled look.

‘Come again,’ squeaked Williams.

‘I said: where is Jessica Stone? And I am not the most patient of men.’

Williams shrugged.

‘We have no idea what you are talking about.’

‘Search the place!’ said Walter.

‘You can’t do that, not without a warrant!’

‘Yes we can, if we believe a crime has been committed, and crimes have been committed here, you have already confirmed that much,’ and he nodded Jan and Jenny and Karen into the building and into action.

11.25. THE TAUTLINER pulled into the Vauxhall factory car park and joined the queue for the collection and delivery bay. Jun felt the wagon stop, saw it stop, and heard it stop, as the airbrakes hissed on. She cut away the last piece of poly and pushed her head, arms, and body through. She was free. Her legs were numb and her arms weren’t much better. She rubbed and stretched them and waggled and smacked them, and still they felt as if they belonged to someone else. Of one thing she was certain: she must move before she was discovered, and before the truck started again. She edged to the side of the lorry, slipped under the curtain sides, and holding tight, lowered herself to the ground.

She tried to stand and walk away, but exactly what she imagined might happen, happened. Her legs gave way like a broken hoola-hoop. She couldn’t walk. Not a pace.

11.30. CHANG AND WILLIAMS stood before a bank of desks with Walter in between. All kinds of permits and documents and permissions for this and that were strewn about on the desk before them. Williams kept picking up papers and waving them in the air and moaning about how difficult this one was to obtain, and how much this one had cost.

‘Let’s be clear,’ said Walter. ‘And let’s be honest too. I don’t have time to muck around. How many illegal workers are you currently employing?’

‘We’re just waiting for the necessary docs to come through,’ squeaked Williams.

‘How many!’

Chang looked at Williams and said, ‘Maybe three or four, Inspector.’

‘Perhaps five or six,’ squeaked Williams.

‘I’ll ask you again, where is Jessica Stone?’

‘No idea on that one,’ insisted Williams.

Chang shrugged his shoulders.

Walter pulled some posters from his pocket. Pictures of the late Yet Kwai Dang, one pic taken before her death, looking reasonably happy, back in China, the other one more recently in Chester, after death, the body looking abandoned and broken.

‘Do you know this girl?’

Chang and Williams glanced at the pics.

Both shook their heads. Chang said, ‘Not one of ours.’

‘Did you kill her?’

Chang glanced at Williams and shrugged. It wasn’t a guilty glance, it was a: What the hell is going on here glance?

‘Certainly not!’ squeaked the Welshman, and he pulled out his phone and said, ‘I am ringing my solicitor.’

Karen came back.

‘Anything?’ asked Walter.

Karen shook her head, said, ‘Lots of dubious practices, but the girls don’t seem unduly stressed.’

‘I’m beginning to think this isn’t the right place,’ muttered Walter.

‘I think you’re right.’

‘Go and tell Jan and Jenny to go through