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

‘Thought you’d better know, Guv.’

‘Yeah, thanks Gibbons, we’ll be with you in a minute,’ and Walter turned back to Karen. ‘What were you going to say?’

Karen scratched her head.

‘Oh, nothing important, Guv, another time maybe, let’s get on with setting up the ID parade to end all ID parades.’

Walter grinned.

‘I couldn’t have put it better myself. We’ll set it up for half past four tomorrow afternoon. Someone will have to go and fetch Corla Rev at say half three, so she’s here in plenty of time.’

‘Gibbons and Hector?’

‘No, send Jenny and Nicky. Corla might be happier to see another woman on the team.’

‘Okey-doke. I’ll fix it.’

OUTSIDE, IN THE GENERAL office, Walter filled the team in on developments. Hector was assigned the job of finding two ringers, Jenny and Gibbons the duty of making sure everyone else attended.

‘Don’t forget,’ said Walter. ‘They must all wear dark trousers, short casual jacket, gloves, and no hat.’

As it turned out Derek Nesbitt had come back bored and early from his fishing trip, and actually said he was looking forward to it. Miro, Speight, Flanagan and Donaldson all moaned like hell about it, but agreed that if it finally put them in the clear they would attend, albeit under protest.

Walter phoned Gareth Williams and mentioned he was out of order in putting up a reward. Gareth advised Walter that he had indeed put up a reward, and would continue to do so, and as he believed he knew and understood the law at least as well as Inspector Darriteau, that was how it would remain. The reward stood, and at least that might encourage Corla Rev. Walter was too busy and too tired to argue, at least Williams had agreed to attend, though he too protested long and hard about it.

Everyone went home a little earlier than usual, all hoping and praying that the next day the quaintly named Corla Revelation would steer them towards a positive result.

AN HOUR LATER WALTER threw a beef curry ready meal into the oven and slammed the door. He squished a can open and sipped direct. He thought about Corla Revelation and her offer of a consultation. She hadn’t mentioned anything about a discount, but surely that would be forthcoming if she collected cash on the case. He’d be flavour of the month. It might be worth thinking about. What had he to lose?

And he thought about Carlene Henderson and how nice it would be if she came round, though right there a phone call would have done, but nothing like that happened, and he wasn’t going to weaken and ring her, not yet a while, at least. And he thought again about the neat woman in yellow, Nesbitt’s neighbour, what was her name again? Mary Warner, that was it, he wasn’t losing his memory yet. What was it she had said? Every woman knows you now, Walter; you’re quite famous around Chester these days, something like that.

She had a way of speaking to men that pleased them, that much was obvious, and when the case was over he might just go round there, by way of thanking her for her assistance, and see what developed from there. Seemed like a plan to him. He turned on the TV and watched an old black and white war movie staring Kirk Douglas, or was it an anti-war movie; he was never quite sure with some of those too clever by half pictures, and after that he went to bed earlier than usual, and slept surprisingly well.

KAREN LOUNGED ON HER sofa and ate a lightly done tuna steak with an avocado on the side, and thought about David Baker. He would fit right in amongst the planned line-up, but how could she suddenly blurt out that she knew who the fifth man was, that he matched Corla Rev’s description spot on, and don’t mention the tiny fact that I happen to be dating him. It wasn’t going to happen. She simply hoped that Corla would pick someone out, finger the killer, and anyone would do.

Her mobile on the coffee table rang. Her heart skipped a beat. She reached across and grabbed it. It was him. She smirked and smiled and felt good about life, and took the call.

It was a long call, and a warm call, but in truth one that consisted of trivia and gossip, a typical conversation between two people who maybe cared about one another, and maybe thought they could care about each other a whole lot more. He had a nice telephone voice, she thought, manly yet soothing, clear diction without any discernable accent, as similar thoughts swirled through his head about her.

It was only afterwards she realised she knew so little about him. Where he came from, what his parents were like, what they did, how he’d fallen into the job he said he adored, and so much more. How had all that been overlooked and neglected?

Had he been deliberately cunning in steering away from discussing such things? They always seemed to talk about her, but rarely him. Fact was, she still knew very little about him, and that would have to change, and had he shielded his background for fear of incriminating himself in ways that made her shudder. That didn’t bear thinking about either, yet she did, for several hours, her mind racing to improbable places she would rather not have visited.

What was it that Walter had said about the fifth man? Karen thought hard, it was something like: Our man is smarter than the ordinary Joes we have in the frame, much smarter, and more dangerous with it. He’s a cunning foe to be reckoned with.

A cunning foe to be reckoned with, a phrase that would stick in the mind, but was David Baker a cunning foe, or the cunning foe? The following day might shed some light on that crazy idea, but if it didn’t, what then? The only thing for it would