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

‘Not good, Guv.’

‘You’re right, DC Barr. Not good! Not good at all. I give everyone who joins this precious band one chance. You’ve just had yours. If I ever catch you lying to me or anyone else in this room ever again I’ll kick your backside all the way to Rhyl and back. You’ll be returned to traffic duty before you could say Llan-bloody-dudno. Is that clear?’

Nicky nodded slowly again and looked suitably contrite, and muttered, ‘Really sorry, Guv.’

‘Go away! See Gibbons, he has important work for you.’

Nicky nodded fast and hurried off.

Karen glanced at the departing guy and back at Walter and said, ‘Silly boy.’

‘He ruddy well is, but he won’t do it again. I hope.’

‘How did you know?’

‘I have met my share of Smart Alec’s over the years and I can sus them out at fifty paces. It wasn’t that difficult.’

Karen swigged her water and was keen to change the conversation. He seemed in a real bad mood over something.

‘I’ll ring Janice, see if I can get her in today.’

‘You do that,’ said Walter, settling down to study the crime reports.

AN HOUR LATER A BEAMING Jenny came over to Walter’s desk and said, ‘I think I’ve got something, Guv.’

Karen glanced up from the old Michael Flanagan case notes.

‘Mirror man?’ mumbled Walter.

Jenny nodded.

‘I can’t find anyone going by the name of Mirror, but I have found a local banker who works for the Anglo-Slavic National Bank. The ASNB, they are based here in Chester, and this guy’s name is Miroslav Rekatic, though he prefers the shortened version of Miro.’

‘How old is he? Do you know?’ asked Walter.

‘He’s thirty-seven.’

‘And what are the chances he’s six feet tall, speaks with an eastern European accent, and has dark hair and eyes, and is vaguely good looking?’ said Karen.

‘I can’t comment on the height, but the rest fits like a glove, I’ve cribbed his picture from their website. Here he is, our Miroslav,’ and she set a good colour photo down in front of them.

‘I know this ASNB outfit,’ said Karen. ‘It’s one of the new generation of banks that are pushing hard to get a foothold in the UK market.’

‘They are,’ confirmed Jenny. ‘Putting new ATMs all over the place.’

‘Address?’ said Walter.

‘Chester Business Park.’

‘Car?’ said Karen.

‘Please, unmarked.’

‘Shall I see you downstairs?’ asked Karen.

‘Be there in a sec, just going to keep Mrs W up to speed.’

Jenny said, ‘I’ll keep looking, see if I can find anyone else.’

‘Do that, Jen. And well done.’

THE HUGE AND SPRAWLING and modern Chester Business Park was located on the southern side of the city, strategically placed for easy access to the road system, with the nearby A55 and A483 dual carriageways funnelling traffic east west and south, and onto the M53, and the national motorway system beyond.

The modern landscaped site was not far short of 200 acres and was a pleasant place to work, boasting green spaces and lakes and woodland, and it was no surprise that plenty of British, American and European Finance houses and banks had been tempted to set up base there.

In the short car ride south Karen said, ‘So it looks like Janice misheard Ellie say Mirror when she actually said Miro, you reckon?’

‘Looks that way, let’s hope so anyway, and it would be an easy mistake to make,’ and in less than ten minutes they were pulling off the main road and entering the impressive looking park.

The ASNB building was much larger than expected, and resembled something of a modern glass fronted sports stadium, but oddly fronted with white gothic Romanesque columns flanking the entrance.

‘Banking must pay awfully well,’ said Karen, bringing the car to a halt in the large car park, as she glanced up at the vast glass facade.

‘We all know that,’ said Walter, thinking of the whacking monthly interest addition on his credit card statement, ‘and yet, it’s constantly a mystery to me as to how they manage to lose so much money, every now and again.’

‘Incompetence, do you think?’ said Karen, unable to keep a smile from her fair face, at the thought of it.

‘Probably. Maybe the Mirror man will be able to throw some light on that,’ said Walter.

‘How are we going to play this, Guv? Interview him here, or back at the station.’

‘What would you do?’

‘Here to start with, and if we don’t like what we are hearing, back at our place.’

‘Got it in one! And don’t mention that Ellie’s dead,’ Walter said, getting out of the car, and doing up his coat and limping away.

INSIDE, THE MODERN hi-tech look was everywhere. Ahead of them was a shiny black reception desk with the obligatory bright young thing on parade, eager and willing and waiting to field their enquiries. Walter and Karen hustled over to the desk and Karen flashed ID and completed the introductions.

‘Please show us through to see Mr Rekatic right away,’ said Walter, staring round at the huge pieces of blue, yellow and white modern art that adorned the walls.

‘Do you have an appointment?’

‘No, we don’t, and we don’t need one,’ said Karen.

‘It’s a little unusual.’

‘Yes,’ said Walter. ‘It is. Mr Rekatic please.... now, chop chop.’

The young woman pulled a face and stared at Walter and realised he wasn’t a man to mess with, and pointed to her right, and at a modern half-glazed door and said, ‘Through there, fourth on the right.’

‘A thousand thank you’s,’ said Walter, turning away and limping toward the door that took them through to a wide and long corridor. They could both hear a modern phone burbling away somewhere up ahead, and both imagined it was the young woman alerting her boss that the law was on the way.

The fourth door on the right was wide open, and inside was a smart man talking on a phone. He was looking at the doorway as if expecting visitors, and sure enough there they were, walking straight in, Karen’s ID on full display.

‘Mr Rekatic?’ she said. ‘Mr Miroslav