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

from his desk drawer and picked up the phone and gently dabbed in the numbers.

The phone rang four times and then picked up.

‘Amazing Revelations,’ said the voice in a singsong fashion.

‘Corla Revelation?’

‘That’s me, Inspector. Have you rung to book an early appointment?’

He laughed and said, ‘No, not today, just a quick call to advise you that we’re all arranged at this end. Everything’s on track. Jenny and Nick will call for you at 3pm, for you to be here in plenty of time, so we can prepare you, and explain the procedure.’

‘It all sounds very daunting.’

‘It’s not. It’ll be a cakewalk, and I’ll be by your side every step of the way. You’ll be fine.’

‘I hope so.’

‘We’ll see you soon.’

‘Yes, Inspector, you will.’

EVERYTHING STARTED at half past two. Hector was sent off to the local Job Centre to pick out two smart looking guys who vaguely fitted the bill, guys who’d imagined they were there for a job interview. They were in the police station by ten past three, being briefed about the ID parade to come, just as fillers, you understand, and reasonably happy about collecting thirty quid expenses for their trouble. Hector had a dental appointment after that, and went off to visit the killer driller fiend for urgent attention.

Jenny and Nick departed on the short ride to Warren Drive to collect Corla Rev, and they returned with the star guest by half past three. She looked pretty smart too, in a long fitted beige raincoat and good white shoes. Walter greeted her and asked if she’d like a tea or coffee. Corla declined and muttered something about getting it over with as soon as possible.

They took her downstairs to view the set-up. Firstly, Walter took her into the interview room itself. All the furniture had +been removed and along one wall was a large mirror.

Walter first beckoned to the floor.

‘See the line,’ he said, ‘the men will all stand on the line. They’ll be holding number cards.’ He turned back to the mirror. ‘You’ll be on the other side of the glass, safe with me. No one in here will be able to see you or hear anything you say, but you’ll be able to see them and hear everything.’

Corla nodded and went to the glass. Put her hands around her eyes and peered through from right up close. She couldn’t see a thing.

‘I’m impressed,’ she said.

‘Good,’ said Walter. ‘It’s a tried and tested system. None of the men will ever know your identity. There’s nothing to it. You walk up and down the line, take as much time as you want, go back and forth as often as you like, and only when you are ready, and only if you are certain, you indicate to me who you think the man is who you saw coming out of Belinda’s house on the night of her murder. You do that by saying his number. Is that clear?’

‘Perfectly. I’m not stupid.’

‘I know that, Miss Revelation, there are just certain procedures I have to follow by the book.’

‘I see. Sorry, if I was a little brusque. And please call me Corla.’

‘Not a problem, Corla. Do you have any questions?’

‘I feel as if I should have, but I don’t.’

‘That’s okay.’

‘How many men will there be?’

‘Eight.’

‘And are they all criminals?’

‘I’m not allowed to discuss the men involved.’

‘I see, makes sense, I guess.’

‘Let’s go into the other room,’ and they went outside and into the viewing room.

Walter pointed at the glass and said, ‘You’ve a great view from here.’

‘It’s amazingly clear.’

‘It is, perfect vision, and the glass has been freshly cleaned today.’

‘And they can’t hear a word we say?’

‘Not a whisper.’

‘I’m impressed.’

‘Good. That’s the way we like it.’

‘Thank you for putting my mind at rest.’

‘You’re welcome. Anything else?’

Corla shook her head.

‘Okay. We’re done here for now. Karen will take you back upstairs and we’ll wait there until everything is ready.’

‘Do you know what this reminds me of?’

‘What?’

‘An American prison movie.’

Walter grinned knowingly and said, ‘I can see what you mean, we’re both law enforcement agencies, after all, but the similarities stop there. We’re not American, and we’re not in a movie.’

‘No, pity,’ she said, grinning.

THE GUYS IN THE LINE-up had already started booking in. Michael Flanagan was in first, grizzling that he was losing vital fare money, and who was going to compensate him for that? Derek Nesbitt, chipper and happy and confident, for he had never done anything remotely like it before. He’d once considered becoming a policeman, though the thought of wrestling with vicious armed thugs had persuaded him into another career path, though just for a moment he was having second thoughts about that.

Next in was Iain Donaldson. He’d taken the afternoon off work, and Andrea Dennehey had come with him for moral support, and to act as a witness, so she said, in an overloud voice, though she was miffed when informed that she would not be allowed to witness events. She would be held in a holding room for friends and family upstairs until it was all over.

A subdued Miroslav Rekatic was next up. He listened hard and said little, and both Walter and Karen were surprised at his subdued demeanour, and wondered if he’d been interrogated and rebuked by his fine wife, and if that were the case, it was the least he deserved.

Gareth Williams turned up next, looking confident, freshly preened bouffant prominently on display. He moaned a minute or two about the ludicrousness of the whole exercise, but soon settled down, realising that the quicker the charade was completed, the sooner he could get out of there, and back to his hectic office.

Ronald Speight was late, and no one in the station was surprised at that. The first thing he said was, ‘I didn’t think I was going to come. I shouldn’t be here at all because I’m completely innocent of any crime, but if this is the only way to prove it, then so be it.’

Bob Barnes, an avuncular