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

‘What other places?’ asked Karen.

‘She went to their gaffs sometimes, so she said, even in hotel rooms, on occasion.’

‘And you approved of that?’ asked Walter.

‘Course not!’

‘Are you her pimp, Derek?’ asked Karen.

‘What! No! Don’t be ridiculous!’

‘But you didn’t try and stop her?’

‘Course I did! She didn’t want to know. To tell you the truth I think she quite liked her way of earning a living.’

‘Is there anyone special in her life?’ asked Walter.

‘How do you mean?’

‘It’s a straightforward question,’ said Karen. ‘Are any of the men special to her?’

‘Not that I know of.’

‘Did she mention any names?’ asked Walter.

‘Not that I remember, and by the way, it wasn’t just men.’

Walter ignored that too for he knew that already, and asked, ‘Where did she meet these men?’

‘She was well known around the local pubs.’

‘Which pubs?’ asked Karen, and Derek reeled off four different drinking establishments.

‘Did she have any close friends?’ asked Walter.

‘Not really. There was one girl, a mate. Jani Jefferson, Janice, they’d go out drinking and clubbing sometimes, she’s the only one I know of.’

‘Where does she live?’ asked Karen.

‘She has a little flat near the railway station. Over one of the shops. Over a cycle shop, it is, can’t remember the address exactly.’

Karen and Walter shared a look and Karen said, ‘I know the shop, Guv.’

‘Look! What’s going on here? What’s she been up to?’

‘On Friday night Ellie’s caravan burnt down,’ said Walter.

‘No! Is she alright?’

‘We believe she was inside it at the time,’ said Karen.

‘What! You mean she’s dead?’

‘It looks that way,’ said Walter.

Derek leant forward and put his hands on his knees and pursed his lips and breathed out heavy. ‘Fuck!’ he said. ‘I can’t get my head around this.’

‘Which pub were you playing darts in, Derek?’

‘Eh? Oh, the Red Lion.’

‘What time did you leave?’ asked Walter.

‘About eleven, why? Hey, hang on a minute. Was this fire started deliberately?’

‘Was it Derek?’ asked Walter.

‘Eh? How the hell would I know? Look, what the fuck’s going on here? Are you trying to say she was murdered? Do you think I had something to do with it?’

‘Did you?’ asked Karen.

‘Of course I fucking didn’t! Ellie was a good friend to me.’

‘So far, we don’t think anything, Derek. We are just trying to find out what happened down there,’ said Walter. ‘In the meantime can you please not leave the city without telling us first, and if you think of anything further that may help us with our enquiries, we’d appreciate you getting in touch,’ and Walter held his card out across the desk.

Derek took it and glanced at it and nodded and slipped it behind the red handkerchief in his breast pocket.

‘Do you own a car, Derek?’ asked Karen.

‘Sure. A silver Cayton.’

‘And did you ever drive down Marigold Lane?’

‘Once or twice.’

‘Recently?’

‘Yeah, on that Thursday night.’

‘The last time you saw her?’

‘Correct.’

Walter nodded and glanced at Karen.

Derek jumped into the momentary silence.

‘Is that it? Can I go now?’

‘Yes,’ said Walter, ‘and thank you for your assistance.’

Derek nodded and didn’t need a second chance to flee the room. A moment later the manager reappeared and stood in the open doorway.

‘Everything all right here?’

‘Yes,’ said Walter. ‘It would seem that one of Derek’s friends has recently died. He’s obviously a little shaken up.’

‘Oh, fair enough, that’s a relief, I thought he was in some kind of trouble there for a moment.... sorry that didn’t come out quite right,’ said the manager, looking a little uncomfortable.

‘Do you know any of Derek’s friends?’ asked Karen.

‘Me? No! Certainly not, we don’t socialise at all, purely a boss and employee relationship.’

‘Quite,’ said Walter. ‘And your name again is?’

‘Kenneth Boyce.’

‘Well, thank you, Mr Boyce, you have been most helpful, sorry to have interrupted your day.’

‘Glad to assist,’ he said, as the officers left the room and hurried from the building and back to the car.

WALTER SCRATCHED HIS nose and sat back in his seat. Karen took a quick swig of blackcurrant still water and said, ‘What did you make of Derek?’

‘He didn’t come across as particularly vacuous.’

‘No, I thought that.’

‘But if he left the Red Lion at eleven he could have driven straight to Marigold Lane. He knew where it was, and he probably knew she would be there. And if there are tyre tracks of his, he’s covered that by saying he was there on Thursday.’

‘Does he come across as a murderer?’ asked Karen.

‘Not especially, but who knows what went on down there? Maybe he visited and things got out of hand. Anything could have happened.’

‘He’s the best we’ve got.’

‘So far....’

‘Maybe we should take a look at his car.’

‘He’s already admitted he’s been down there. We’d expect to find Marigold Lane mud on his car. Doesn’t prove a thing.’

‘Guess you’re right. Where now? Jani’s?’

‘You got it.’

IT DIDN’T TAKE THEM long to find the cycle shop, and the flat above, but Janice Jefferson wasn’t there. In Madeira, apparently, so the helpful young bloke in the cycle shop said, enjoying a little early winter sunshine, back in a couple of days, he said. Walter wrote a brief note on a card to get in touch, and slipped it through the letterbox. Any input from Jani would have to wait awhile.

EVERYONE WAS BACK AND ready and keen to get started by half past four. There was no point in delaying. Walter called the evening meet to order.

Karen kicked things off by sharing the data about Derek Nesbitt and Janice Jefferson. Next up was Hector Browne and he had real things to contribute.

‘There were three possible runners in the recent prison releases.’ Everyone glanced at the screen. ‘All of them are out on licence so we have full recent records as to where they are residing, and they all have to report in at varying intervals, and up till now they all have.’

‘Go on,’ said Walter, eager to get to the meat.

‘I think we can rule this one out. Housebound. He’s got a broken leg.’

‘How did that happen?’ asked Karen.

‘Playing football, apparently.’

‘And