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

between boyfriends and clients here,’ said Walter. ‘But they all have to be eliminated.’

‘Just coming to the boyfriend thing,’ continued Karen. ‘There was someone, or is someone, a guy called Derek Nesbitt. The mother didn’t think much of him.’

‘Remind us of the address?’ said Walter.

‘Flat 3B, 56 Easton Road,’ said Karen, glancing down at her notes.

‘Pay him a visit!’ snapped Mrs West.

Walter nodded and mumbled, ‘On it, ma’am.’

Karen again. ‘The location of the caravan was very remote, ideal from the perp’s point of view. A few bungalows at the top of the lane, but nothing close by, other than one or two other empty and disused shacks and caravans.’

Walter took up the thread. ‘Jenny and Nick, I want you to interview all the people who live in those bungalows. See if anyone saw or heard anything unusual. If you get nothing there, try further away.’

‘Sure, Guv,’ said Jenny.

Nicky grinned across at her and said, ‘Me and you, Jen, cool.’

Jenny looked anything but impressed.

‘Because of the remoteness there is no CCTV anywhere near the incident site,’ said Karen.

‘Saves us all day looking through it,’ said a relieved Gibbons, for more and more of his time was being taken up gazing at blurry CCTV images. Why the hell couldn’t they be better quality pics with twenty-first century technology?

‘We don’t yet know if this is a murder case, but it looks like it could be, hence our intense interest until proved otherwise,’ said Mrs West.

‘And with that in mind,’ said Walter, ‘I want Hector to go through all recent prison releases, see if there are any possible candidates we need to be checking on.’

Hector nodded and said, ‘Sure, Guv. Going back how long?’

‘Three months to start with, but longer if you have to, and all the usual suspects, Manchester, Liverpool, Shrewsbury, and all the newer prisons too.’

Hector nodded and scribbled notes, but didn’t look that impressed.

‘Shall I go and check on Patsy the mouth?’ asked Gibbons.

‘I was just going to ask you to do that,’ said Walter.

Patsy the mouth was the local street snout who kept his eyes and ears to the ground, and occasionally came up with intel that proved useful in exchange for the occasional banknote, and an easy life, when it came to his minor misdemeanours, or so he imagined.

‘Do that,’ said Walter, ‘and after you’ve done that go and speak to the local pub landlords closest to Marigold Lane. And don’t take any flannel from them. Ellie was known to frequent those pubs, probably picked up customers there, maybe even the odd member of staff too, so lean on them, and hard if you have to.’

‘Be delighted,’ said Gibbons.

‘Any questions?’ asked Karen.

‘If this is murder, what’s the motive?’ asked Nicky, glad to be the centre of attention again.

‘Could be anything,’ said Walter. ‘Robbery, vengeance, jealousy, dissatisfaction, unwanted competition, there’s five to be going on with, and by the way, Ellie was known to use drugs too, though not that seriously, according to her mother, so you can factor that in as an element as well. Where there’s illegal drugs violence is never far away, as you all well know.’

‘Gotcha, Guv,’ said Nicky, looking mighty pleased with himself.

‘It’s now a quarter to ten, I want you all back here by 5pm with your full reports. Clear?’ said Walter, looking at each of them in turn.

Karen added, ‘And keep Guv fully informed if there are any developments throughout the day.’

‘That’s it, get to it,’ said Walter, and everyone stood up and collected their coats, except Hector, who would remain behind, and begin trawling through prison records and recent releases, though thankfully a great deal of that info could now be accessed at the touch of a few buttons, courtesy of Police and Home Office computers.

‘Good luck, team,’ said Mrs West in her shrill voice, before she stood and hurried back to her office, for she had revision to do for a promotion exam, and though it wasn’t recommended to do it while at work, sometimes needs must.

TEN MINUTES LATER, Walter and Karen were driving the short distance toward Easton Road.

‘What do you make of the new guy?’ asked Karen.

‘Over-keen, as per normal, but better that than the other way round. He’ll soon learn.’

‘Jen doesn’t like him much.’

‘I think anyone could see that!’ said Walter, as Karen pulled the Ford saloon to a halt outside 56 Easton Road. Walter stood out of the car and pulled his raincoat around him and buttoned up. It was dry but overcast, and getting a bit nippy, a warning of winter to come. He gazed up at the grey stone house, Victorian by the look of it, or maybe early Edwardian. A huge semi-detached property with vast and tall windows set on three floors, four if you included the spacious basement, a property that had clearly been converted into flats.

The front garden had been half-heartedly converted into a car park, not much more than someone had thrown down a few bags of gravel on the old front lawn. There were plenty of tyre marks, but only the one car, a smart yellow Cayton Cerisa. Most of the flat inhabitants were either out, or non-drivers.

Walter and Karen ambled up the grey stone path and tried the huge front door. It opened without a problem. No such thing as security locks at number 56.

‘3B you say?’ said Walter, looking at doors and numbers.

‘Yep, first floor by the look of it.’

Walter nodded and grabbed the handrail above the elaborate wrought iron balustrade, and followed Karen up the old stone stairs.

On the first floor landing 3B was facing them. Walter went to the door and in the absence of any obvious bell he banged on the black glossed timber, loudly, but not threateningly loud.

No one came. Walter listened at the door. No music inside, no telly on, no people talking, no dog barking, no children home alone.

‘Try again,’ said Karen, and he did that with the same result.

‘Maybe he’s at work,’ said Karen.

‘Looks that way. Damn! If only