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

old bloke of fifty-three, though he seemed much older than that, was the on-duty station sergeant, and it was his responsibility to get the scene set up and ready to go. All eight men were present in the cleared interview room, and all stared at each other and gazed down at the line on the floor that Bob pointed out. Bob grabbed the two ringers and set one at either end.

The other six were invited to stand in any order, and as usual, much to-ing and fro-ing took place before they settled into final positions.

‘Now gents,’ he said. ‘Are you all comfortable where you are before I give you your number placings?’

‘I’m not comfortable being here at all,’ moaned Speight.

‘I second that,’ said Flanagan.

‘Let’s just get on with it,’ said Gareth, ‘and then we can all get out of here,’ and that advice had some merit, and the grizzling stopped, and finally the line-up was ready to go.

Bob took the large square white number cards from the top of the radiator and passed them out, left to right, numbers one to eight. He took a step back and made a mental note. From the left, a Job Centre ringer, Nesbitt, Speight, Miroslav Rekatic, Williams, Iain Donaldson, Flanagan, and the second Job Centre fella.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘No more changes, let’s get the show on the road,’ and he picked up the internal phone and dialled upstairs.

Karen picked up.

‘Bob here, we’re ready for you now.’

‘Be down in five,’ and she set the phone down.

Walter glanced from Corla and back to Karen.

‘Are they ready for us?’

‘They are, ready and waiting.’

Corla stood up and pulled a face.

‘I feel like I am about to witness an execution.’

‘Nothing like that,’ said Walter. ‘All we are trying to do is serve justice.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ’You’re right, of course,’ and in the next moment they were out of the room, and heading for the stairs to take them down one flight, to inspect a line-up of faces that Corla Revelation would never forget.

Downstairs, Karen opened the door to the room with the false mirror, and Walter stood back and beckoned Corla inside. She smiled and stepped through, and caught her first glimpse of men, all in a line, all waiting on her inspection and decision.

‘Stand still please,’ they all heard Bob Barnes say. ‘Please raise your number board and hold steady in front of your chest.’

The boards went up. Faces went dull and disinterested as they always did, as if inspected men always imagined an ordinary face might help. Walter placed his palm on the small of Corla’s back and eased her to the end of the room. ‘Let’s start with number one,’ he said gently. ‘Take your time, there’s no hurry, take all the time in the world.’

‘And they can’t see me?’

Walter shook his head. ‘Not one jot.’

Corla nodded and stood closer to the glass. She studied the face of number one, the Job Centre ringer. He was quite a good looking fellow, a little younger than her, but the kind of man who always gravitated towards Corla on a night out, and she might let him buy her a whisky if she was in the right mood. But of course she wasn’t there to inspect potential dates, though weirdly it had that feel to it. Speed dating, with potential criminals. Yes, she liked him, but he wasn’t the man who’d come out of Belinda Cooper’s house at one o’clock in the morning, or whatever time it was.

On to number two. Derek Nesbitt. Right on cue he grinned at her through the glass, as if sensing his moment in the limelight had come. Corla took a step back, and glanced at Walter as if for reassurance.

‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘He can’t see you. Keep going.’

It wasn’t number two. He was too young, and not strong boned enough, and she didn’t fancy him one bit.

Number three was Ronald Speight, the tallest of them all. There was something mean looking about this guy, and maybe he even resembled the archetypal picture that some people have of a murderer. She didn’t like the look of him at all. He appeared to her as something of a bully, though whether one can tell such things on looks alone was debateable. He looked pushy and cocksure and was all the things she hated about men. There was no doubt he would be able to look after himself in certain situations, and look after other people too, if the feeling took him, but Corla did not fancy him at all, but neither did she think he was the man she had seen coming out of Belinda’s house.

Number four was the Mirror man. Even though he had a decent alibi for Belinda’s death, Karen harboured hopes that he had somehow managed to slip away from Grizelda in the dead of night to commit the crime. She held her right hand behind her back and crossed her fingers. It would be brilliant if Corla Revelation could ID Miroslav Rekatic, not simply because they would proceed to charge him with murder, but also because it would finally let David Baker off the hook.

The thought had occurred to Karen that he, David, would have looked right at home amongst the other suspects, and that didn’t bear thinking about. She and Walter observed Corla taking a definite pace toward the glass, as she stared through at the Mirror man. Was there something there? Had she seen something in him that struck a chord? She was certainly taking a lot longer over Miro than any of the others.

Corla sighed and shook her head, and took a sideways step to the right, to be confronted by the bouffant hairdo of Gareth Williams. She pulled a startled face and took a second look. It detracted or distracted from his slightly fattening face. Had it been him, retreating from the house in Berryland Avenue? He was dressed right, but he didn’t look right, and he looked better off financially then any