The Inspector Walter Darriteau Murder Mysteries - Books 1-4

look and she began again.
‘Colin Rivers, aged forty-six, lives, or lived in a newish detached house in Saltney. Married, two daughters.’
‘What did he do for a living?’
‘Insurance salesman, office based, so I believe.’
‘Family been told?’
‘Yep.’
‘What’s his wife’s name?’
‘Marian.’
‘Is she in the house now?’
‘Probably.’
‘Find out, will you? If she is, we’ll pop down and see her.’
KAREN DROVE THE UNMARKED BMW. She adored driving, while Walter was happy to be driven, in the city anyway, where she couldn’t speed.
A modern redbrick detached house, dull but comfortable, like a million others. The curtains were closed. A small flowerbed in front of the main window, crocuses out, daffodils considering their options. There were two five-year-old cars on the driveway. Walter took a quick peek at the bumpers and bonnets. No scratches or dents, no blood, and no sign of any recent hurried cleaning.
Karen rang the bell.
Marian Rivers came to the door, cigarette in hand. She glanced at the ID and invited them through to the sun-streaked conservatory at the back of the house.
‘Do you want a coffee?’
Walter shook his head.
Karen said, ‘No thanks.’
‘Sit down, please.’
They sat in the cane chairs and wondered who should start.
‘Your daughters are out?’ asked Walter.
‘Sent them to school, thought it best.’
‘So sorry to hear your news,’ said Walter.
Marian pursed her lips. Didn’t say anything.
‘Tell me about your late husband.’
A short silence and then she said, ‘Not much to tell.’
‘Did he have any enemies?’
Marian’s mouth opened. She flicked ash into an empty coffee mug.
‘I thought you people said it was an accident?’
‘Yes, it probably was, but we are keeping an open mind.’
‘So did he?’ asked Karen.
‘He was a man. What do you think?’
‘Serious enemies?’ asked Walter.
‘No-ooo, just piddling things.’
‘How did he get on at work?’
‘OK, I suppose. An occasional promotion, occasional pay rise, that kind of thing; he was not a high achiever. Steady as he goes kind of bloke, and anyway, he was more interested in God.’
‘God?’ said Karen.
‘Yeah. Didn’t you know? He was a Lay Preacher. Didn’t your people tell you anything? That’s where he’d been, to a late night God squad meet up; they were planning a big service, something like that, that’s why I said he had enemies. They appointed him over the heads of four others, two blokes and two women. You wouldn’t believe how jealous and zealous some of them get in the church.’
She was smiling as she said that, and Walter guessed it had been a bone of contention in the Rivers’ household.
‘Did they make a habit of meeting late?’
‘Recently they had, crazy isn’t it?’
‘What church?’ asked Walter.
‘United Reformed, Curzon Park.’
‘And did you attend?’ asked Karen.
‘Nope. I can do without that kind of thing.’
‘So, to your knowledge, did he have any enemies who’d want to kill him?’
‘I can’t think of anyone.’
‘How are you fixed, financially?’ asked Walter.
‘Not bad, it looks like the mortgage will be paid off, and he was well insured too, with him being in insurance. There should be a big paycheque coming,’ and then as if reading the detectives’ minds she added, ‘And before you say anything, I didn’t do it, if that’s what you think.’
‘Course not,’ said Walter, ‘but just to be clear, where were you between two and four o’clock in the morning?’
‘In bed, on my own, asleep.’
‘And your daughters, they were in the house?’
‘Yes, course, they were asleep too. They have big exams coming up, they are working really hard.’
‘I want to ask you a personal question,’ said Karen.
‘It’s your job.’
‘Was he ever unfaithful?’
Marian threw back her head and said, ‘Hah!’ and glanced at the bird poop on the conservatory roof. ‘I wish I knew the answer to that. No, I don’t think so, but he was a man, wasn’t he. Who knows? I’ll probably never know now.’
‘Did he get paid for his church activities?’
‘Good God no, sorry God if you are listening, not a penny, no offence meant.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Rivers,’ said Walter, standing and fastening his raincoat. ‘We’ll be in touch if there’s any news.’
DURING THE RIDE BACK to the police station that overlooked the Roodee, Karen said, ‘Forgive my ignorance, but what exactly is a Lay Preacher?’
Walter thought back to his childhood in Jamaica, and his Uncle Collis who was a Lay Preacher. He was always coming round to bless this house, or so he said, when in reality he was on the lookout for a free chicken meal.
‘They stand in when the pastor is away or sick, a kind of first reserve if you like. Sometimes it can be an initial step towards higher things, but more often than not, they are just happy to help the main man.’
‘Or woman,’ corrected Karen.
‘Yeah, that too.’
‘You don’t think one of his spurned rivals could have run him down, do you?’
‘You heard the lady, they are jealous and zealous in the church, a catchy phrase, don’t you think?’
Karen pulled a face.
‘Anyway, check them out, these two men and two women who got the hump because Colin landed the job, a position that pays nothing and carries no qualifications.’
‘They can’t have killed him for that,’ said Karen, guiding the car into the underground car park.
‘It’s been done for less,’ said Walter, getting out and limping toward the lift, and as he did so, he shouted back over his shoulder, ‘And another thing, we only have Marian’s word that she was in bed asleep.’

Chapter Two
The driver hadn’t slept. Jumped out of bed and booted up the Internet. Typed in: How to kill people. Twenty-seven million articles and features on How to kill people. Who writes all this crazy stuff, and more to the point, why doesn’t someone do something about it? Scrolled down, began reading, started making notes, flipped on the local radio.
Appeals every hour on the hour for witnesses to come forward who may have seen the tragic accident on the ring road where a man was killed in the early hours.
There’ll be no witnesses, pal. There was no one about.
The driver was surprised at how pleasurable it had been.