The Inspector Walter Darriteau Murder Mysteries - Books 1-4 by David Carter (microsoft ebook reader TXT) 📗

‘Were you upset with Belinda Cooper?’

‘No, not really. Why should I be? He dumped her, and then found me, lucky him, and quite right too, for she was messing around with other men, lots of them if truth be told. You should be looking at that greasy bouffant-haired solicitor of a dick for one. Belinda was a bit of a stuck up cow, that’s all, so I gathered, from what Iain told me, but I never met her.’

‘What else did Iain tell you?’

‘Nothing special, just odd things here and there that painted a picture of a frustrated woman who’d never found happiness.’

‘And you’ve found happiness?’

‘I have. Iain and I are good. We’re going to make a real go of it.’

‘Do you know anything about Belinda Cooper’s other menfriends?’

‘No, not by name, though Iain said that one of them turned out to be gay, and that really freaked her out, but it would, wouldn’t it?’ And she turned and pulled a face and addressed that question to Jenny.

Jenny glanced at Walter and remained silent, and noted things down.

‘On the night of the murder did Iain leave the house at any point? Think very carefully before you answer, for an untruthful reply could bring you serious trouble.’

‘He never left the apartment. Not once. We were too busy creating the eight-limbed beast.’

Walter grimaced and continued.

‘Could he have nipped out when you fell asleep?’

‘Nope, not possible.’

‘And why would that be?’

‘Because I’d tied him to the bed. Anything else you want to know?’

‘No,’ said Walter. ‘Thanks for your help. You can go now.’

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘And another thing, if it had been just you and me when I had that other nonsense, it would never have gone to court.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Because I am sure we could have sorted things out between us. Know what I mean.... Walter. Ta-rah,’ and she stood up and grinned, and flashed her lashes, and left the room in a swirl of expensive gratis perfume.

‘Geez, give me strength,’ said Walter. ‘What did you make of that?’

‘She’s a tramp,’ said Jenny. ‘Imagines all men are overwhelmingly attracted to her. Can’t see what a hard-faced bitch she really is. Thick as a plank, if you ask me.’

Walter pulled a face, never one to be surprised by the outspokenness of the women on the team, and that was cool.

‘But a murdering bitch, you think?’

‘I think she’s capable of it, but I don’t think she did it.’

‘My sentiments exactly, come on, let’s get back to the office. Ronald Speight awaits.’

‘Lovely,’ she said, grinning.

Thirty

The interview with Ronald Speight got underway at 12.25pm. He was furious at being dragged out of work. He was a draughtsman, though not qualified, though he didn’t advertise that little fact, got by as an assistant, but harboured a grudge against the fully qualified university educated wallahs, who he hated with a passion, many of whom were younger than him, and paid far more.

He moaned he could lose his job because of Darriteau and the bird, as he called them, and if he did, he was threatening to sue Cheshire Police, and Darriteau, personally.

Walter shrugged. Bluster and braggadocio deserved nothing more. Karen turned on the recorder and said, ‘Interview with Ronald Colin Speight, I am Detective Sergeant Karen Greenwood, also present is Inspector Walter Darriteau.’

Walter set the ball rolling.

‘We’ve invited you here to assist in our enquiries into the deaths of Eleanor Wright and Belinda Cooper.’

‘You didn’t invite me, you dragged me out of work against my wishes.’

‘Whatever the circumstances, we appreciate your cooperation.’

‘Get on with it, I haven’t got all day.’

‘In one of your emails to Belinda Cooper you said, and I quote, “I could strangle you”. What did you mean by that?’

‘Yeah, and I could kill you for dragging me here, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to do it. Get my point?’

‘It was meant in jest?’ asked Karen.

‘Not exactly. It was meant as a rebuke, she was pissing me around, and I felt I needed to make a point.’

‘Despite extensive enquiries you are the only person we can trace who knew both dead women, and you had a motive for Belinda’s murder.’

‘Then you’re not looking hard enough.’

‘Your DNA is all over Bel’s house.’

‘No shit, Sherlock. I was there enough times.’

‘Yes, but not for a while, and DNA degrades over time.’

‘You’re clutching at straws, and not particularly strong ones at that, I know it because I wasn’t there when Bel was murdered, and I suspect you know it too, because you haven’t anything better. My guess is you’re under pressure to get a result, but you’re looking in the wrong place.’

‘Where should we be looking?’ asked Karen.

‘How the fuck would I know? Do you want me to do your job for you? I would if you paid me enough, and by hell I couldn’t do it any worse.’

‘Let’s talk about Ellie Wright,’ said Walter.

‘Talk about what you like.’

‘We believe you went there again, late that Friday night.’

‘I did not.’

‘We think she didn’t appreciate your return visit. Maybe she was busy, maybe she was tired, maybe she’d had enough, after a long and hard week.’

‘Didn’t happen.’

‘We think you argued, maybe you hit her, had a fight, you’re a big and powerful man, a man known for his temper, a man who routinely threatens women, and maybe you hit her and she fell over and banged her head. So you thought, the best thing you could do to cover your tracks was burn the place down. You’re a regular smoker, you had matches or a lighter to hand, and before you knew it there was a big fire, and you were running for your life.’

Speight pulled a face and shook his head. ‘Fairy tales.’

‘You have no alibi for that night, because you couldn’t possibly have an alibi, because you were there.’

‘Nope, you’re wrong.’

‘And would you know it, but you haven’t got an alibi for the night Belinda Cooper was murdered either.’

‘That’s what happens when you live alone, no one can say whether you were in, or out.’

‘You were angry