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

who lived in, or had recently visited the block. Walter removed his raincoat and hung it in the hallway, slipped on rubber gloves. Karen was already gloved up.

‘This is the crime, the killing, that will nail this bastard,’ muttered Walter.

‘I bloody hope so.’

‘He’s crossed the Rubicon.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Pushing people under a train, into the canal, running them down, even gassing them in the car is one thing, but here, here we have actual physical assault. The bastard’s growing bolder. It’s the first time the killer has done the killing. One car, one train, one drowning, one gassed, but here the killer stared down at the breathing body of a live human being, looked directly into that crazy face, and attacked him with the single intention of ending his life. This is quite different. It’s a big step up.’

‘And it can’t be suicide?’

‘Not unless the victim went to the window and threw the knife outside afterwards, closed the window, and lay down to die.’

‘He could have hidden it,’ said Karen, still not ruling out suicide.

Rule nothing out until the evidence tells you to. She recalled her college CID training.

‘With what purpose in mind?’ asked Walter. ‘If you are going to kill yourself, why hide the bloody weapon? No, the killer brought the weapon with him, and took it away again; I’d stake my pension on that. How many flats are there in this block?’

‘Fifty, ten on each floor, five floors.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Rodney used to live here, top floor, number forty-one.’

Ah yes, thought Walter, the rakish Rodney, he’d almost forgotten about him.

‘He doesn’t live here now?’

‘Nope, been gone a year, when we split up.’

Walter pulled a face.

‘I want every occupier interviewed, and any recent visitors logged, I want detailed descriptions of any strangers that have been seen in or near these flats in the last week, and that includes delivery people and estate agents, I want to know who Jago Cripps has been fraternising with, been seen with, and I want to know every Goddamn thing about this unfortunate young man.’

‘Got you, Guv.’

‘Seal the block off, no one comes in or goes out.’

‘There’re loads of people living here.’

‘I know that! No one comes or goes until we have interviewed them.’

Karen nodded and said, ‘You still think it’s a man?’

‘Course it’s a man!’

‘Not a he-she thing?’

‘If I knew what a he-she thing was, I might be more amenable to the idea.’

There was a knock at the door, the doctor, with SOCO close behind and behind them, Walter’s eager foot soldiers, waiting for direction, awaiting their tasks.

‘Find out if the guy’s got a car. Find out where it is,’ rattled off Walter.

‘Got you, Guv,’ muttered Karen, gabbling into her mobile.

Moments later she said, ‘It’s a blue Vauxhall, ten years old, I’ve sent someone down to check the garage.’

Walter was in the kitchen, looking in the cupboards, glancing at empty glasses, lined up, gleaming, silent witnesses. He could feel a presence there. Imagined wine bottles being opened, happy pouring into clean glasses, laughing and joking, and all the while one of the two had murder in mind.

‘Guv?’ Karen called.

Walter returned to the sitting room.

‘What?’

‘Found this, nice little box of sweeties.’

Walter peered inside.

‘Quite a collection, E’s, uppers, downers, and God knows what else.’

‘And this,’ she said, pointing to spent silver strips of Temazepam.

‘That’s a weird one. Quite a party.’

‘I wonder if the neighbours heard anything.’

‘Find out!’

‘Yes, Guv.’

‘There must be fingerprints here, no one could be so careful as to wipe them all, unless...’

‘Unless what?’

‘They were wearing gloves.’

‘What? All the time, seems unlikely, and another thing, Guv, who’s more likely to wear gloves, a man or a woman, woman for sure, and a woman could get away with never taking them off, don’t think a man could.’

Maybe she had a point.

A foot soldier came in and said, ‘The garage is empty, the car’s not in the car park either.’

‘Find the bloody car!’ said Walter.

‘Yes, Guv.’

They found it in six minutes flat, parked outside the swimming pool. Traced there by the four overstay parking tickets, flagged up and already logged into the system.

‘No one’s to touch the car, no one, you hear me? SOCO, that’s your next job.’

A couple of guys grunted and bobbed their heads; annoyed they would be working late again. The sooner they caught this bugger the better.

‘So how did the car get there?’ said Karen.

‘Let’s see,’ said Walter, attempting to imagine the sequence of events. ‘Jago here went out to meet someone, a friend maybe. They had a few drinks, a meal perhaps, then Jago drove them back here with promises of a nightcap, or drugs, or sex, or all three, only to be murdered by our killing fiend. The killer then jumped in the car and drove back to the swimming pool and dumped it. Maybe his car was already there. Doing a switch over. Find out if there is any CCTV by the pool and get someone on the CCTV coverage on the ring road. If the car went from here to there, there must be some coverage somewhere. With any luck, we might have a pretty pic of the perpetrator just waiting to be viewed. And another thing...’

‘Yes, Guv?’

‘As soon as we have a definite time of death, find out if Jago was seen about town that evening, dining, and if so, with whom?’

‘Yeah, Guv, I’m on to that,’ said Karen. ‘I’ve thought of something else too.’

‘Yeah, like what?’

‘Was the guy gay?’

Walter gave her a look.

‘How the hell would I know?’

‘Well, whether he was or not, he could use the Internet to line up dates. There might be records of who contacted him.’

‘You think he might use the Internet?’ said Walter, well out of his comfort zone.

‘Could be, looks the type. Everyone’s doing it these days.’

‘OK, good, find out, and get someone to check his computer over, it’s in the bedroom. Read his emails, check the sites he’s been visiting, there must be any number of leads and clues there, and while we are discussing technology, where the bloody