[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
easily.
Cantona got up from the unit. Reeve noticed that the ma-
chine was dripping water into a bowl on the floor. He repeated
his question.
The Mexican shook his head. I would not have done busi-
ness with him if I thought he d been drinking. I have nothing to
gain by seeing my cars wrecked or messed up.
Speaking of which, where is the car?
It is not in the lot.
That s not what I asked.
It has gone for repair and . . . detailing. The police smashed
the driver s side window to effect entry. Remember, the car was
locked from within.
I know that, thought Reeve, but why are you telling me?
Before renting the car to my brother, he asked, did you take a
look at his driving license?
Of course.
Reeve stared at the man.
What is it? the Mexican asked, his grin looking queasy.
He held a UK driving license, not valid over here.
Then I should not have rented him one of my automobiles.
The man shrugged. A mistake on my part.
Reeve nodded slowly. A mistake, he repeated. He asked a
few more questions, trivial ones, just to put the Mexican more at
ease, then thanked him for his help.
I am truly sorry about your brother, Gordon, the Mexican
said, holding out his hand.
Reeve shook it. And I m sorry about your car. He followed
Cantona to the door. Oh, you forgot to say which garage is fix-
ing the car.
The Mexican hesitated. Trasker s Auto, he said at last.
Cantona started chuckling the moment they were outside. I
thought he was going to swallow that cigar, he said. You really
had him going.
He wasn t a very good liar.
57
Ian Rankin
No, he surely wasn t. Hey, where did you learn to speak
Spanish?
Reeve opened the car door. There was a time I needed to
know it, he said, sliding into the passenger seat.
Daniel Trasker ran what looked like four parts wrecking opera-
tion to one part repair. When Reeve explained who he was,
Trasker went wide-eyed with shock.
Hell, son, you don t want to see that car! There s stains on
the
It s okay, Mr. Trasker, I don t want to see the car.
Trasker calmed a little at that. They d been standing outside
the wood-and-tin shack that served as Trasker s premises. Most
of the work was done in the yard outside. Trasker himself was
in his well-preserved early sixties, clumps of curling silver hair
showing from beneath an oily baseball cap. His walnut face
showed deep laugh lines around the eyes, with oil and dirt in-
grained. He wiped his hands on a large blue rag throughout their
conversation.
You better come in.
In the midst of the shack s extraordinary clutter, it took Reeve
a while to work out that there was a desk and chair, and even a
PC. Paperwork covered the desk like so much camouflage, and
there were bits of engines everywhere.
I d ask you to sit, said Trasker, but there s nowhere to sit. If
someone s writing me a check, I sometimes clear some space for
them, but otherwise you stand.
Standing s fine.
So what is it you want, Mr. Reeve?
You know my brother was found in a locked car, Mr.
Trasker?
Trasker nodded. We got the car right here.
Police smashed the window to get in.
That they did. We got the replacement part on order.
Reeve stood close beside the older man. Is there any way
someone could have locked the car afterwards? I mean, after my
brother died?
58
Blood Hunt
Trasker stared at him. What s your point, son?
I m just wondering if that s possible.
Trasker thought about it. Hell, of course it s possible. All
you d need s a spare set of keys. Come to think of it . . . Trasker s
voice trailed off.
What?
Let me go check something. He turned and left the shack.
Reeve and Cantona followed him outside, but he turned back to
them, holding up his hands. Now, let me do this by myself. That
car s not something you should be seeing.
Reeve nodded, and watched Trasker go. Then he told Can-
tona to stay where he was, and began to follow the old man.
Around the back of the shack, and past heaps of wrecked cars,
Reeve saw that there was another low-slung building, double-
garage size. Half a dozen tall gas cylinders stood like metal sentries
outside a wide door, which stood open. There was a car jacked up
inside, but Trasker squeezed past it. Reeve looked around him. He
was five or six miles outside San Diego, inland towards the hills.
The air was stiller here, not quite so fresh. He had to decide now,
right now. He took a deep breath and made for the garage.
What is it? he asked Trasker.
The old man shot up from his crouching position and swiveled
on his heels. Nearly gave me a damned heart attack, he com-
plained.
Sorry. Reeve came forward. Trasker had opened the door
of the car and was studying it. The car James Reeve had died in.
It was smarter than Reeve had expected, a good deal newer, as
good certainly as anything in the Mexican s lot. He approached it
slowly. The seats were leather or Leatherette, and had been
wiped clean. But as he bent down to peer inside, he could see
stains against the roof. A rust-colored trajectory, fanning out
towards the back of the car. He thought of touching the blood,
maybe it was still damp. But he tore his gaze away from it.
Trasker was looking at him.
I told you to stay put, the old man said quietly.
I had to see.
Trasker nodded, understanding. You want a moment to
yourself?
59
Ian Rankin
Reeve shook his head. I want to know what you were look-
ing at.
Trasker pointed to the interior door-lock on the driver s side.
See there? he said, touching it. Can you see a little notch, low
down on the lock?
Reeve looked more closely. Yes, he said.
There s one on the passenger door-lock too.
Yes?
They re sensors, son. They sense a beam from a remote-
control key ring.
You mean you can lock and unlock the doors from a distance?
That s right.
So what?
So, said Trasker, digging into his overall pockets and
pulling out a key on a chain, here s what came with the car. This
is the key that was in the ignition when the police found the car.
Now, this is obviously the spare key.
Reeve looked at it. Because there s no button to activate the
locks?
Exactly. Trasker took the key back. You only usually get
the one remote-control key ring with a car like this. The spare
key they give you is plain, like the one I m holding.
Reeve thought about it. Then, without saying anything, he
walked back to Cantona s car. Cantona was standing in the shade
provided by the shack.
Eddie, Reeve said, I want you to do something for me.
By the time Daniel Trasker caught up with Reeve, Cantona s
car was already reversing out of the yard.
I want to wait here a few minutes, Reeve said.
Trasker shrugged. Then what?
Then, if I may, I d like to use your phone.
Carlos Perez was sucking on a fresh cigar when his telephone
rang. It was the brother Gordon Reeve again.
Yes, Gordon, my friend, Perez said pleasantly. Did you
forget something?
60
Blood Hunt
I just wondered about the car key, Reeve said.
The car key? This Reeve was incredible, the way his mind
worked. What about the key?
Do you give your customers a spare set, or just the one?
That depends on the model of vehicle, Gordon, and other
considerations, too. Perez put his cigar down. It tipped from the
edge of the ashtray and rolled off the desk to the floor. He walked
around the side of his desk and crouched down, the telephone
gripped to his ear.
Did my brother s car have remote locking?
Perez made a noise like he was thinking. The cigar was be-
neath his desk. He felt for it, and received a burn on the side of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl fopke.keep.pl
easily.
Cantona got up from the unit. Reeve noticed that the ma-
chine was dripping water into a bowl on the floor. He repeated
his question.
The Mexican shook his head. I would not have done busi-
ness with him if I thought he d been drinking. I have nothing to
gain by seeing my cars wrecked or messed up.
Speaking of which, where is the car?
It is not in the lot.
That s not what I asked.
It has gone for repair and . . . detailing. The police smashed
the driver s side window to effect entry. Remember, the car was
locked from within.
I know that, thought Reeve, but why are you telling me?
Before renting the car to my brother, he asked, did you take a
look at his driving license?
Of course.
Reeve stared at the man.
What is it? the Mexican asked, his grin looking queasy.
He held a UK driving license, not valid over here.
Then I should not have rented him one of my automobiles.
The man shrugged. A mistake on my part.
Reeve nodded slowly. A mistake, he repeated. He asked a
few more questions, trivial ones, just to put the Mexican more at
ease, then thanked him for his help.
I am truly sorry about your brother, Gordon, the Mexican
said, holding out his hand.
Reeve shook it. And I m sorry about your car. He followed
Cantona to the door. Oh, you forgot to say which garage is fix-
ing the car.
The Mexican hesitated. Trasker s Auto, he said at last.
Cantona started chuckling the moment they were outside. I
thought he was going to swallow that cigar, he said. You really
had him going.
He wasn t a very good liar.
57
Ian Rankin
No, he surely wasn t. Hey, where did you learn to speak
Spanish?
Reeve opened the car door. There was a time I needed to
know it, he said, sliding into the passenger seat.
Daniel Trasker ran what looked like four parts wrecking opera-
tion to one part repair. When Reeve explained who he was,
Trasker went wide-eyed with shock.
Hell, son, you don t want to see that car! There s stains on
the
It s okay, Mr. Trasker, I don t want to see the car.
Trasker calmed a little at that. They d been standing outside
the wood-and-tin shack that served as Trasker s premises. Most
of the work was done in the yard outside. Trasker himself was
in his well-preserved early sixties, clumps of curling silver hair
showing from beneath an oily baseball cap. His walnut face
showed deep laugh lines around the eyes, with oil and dirt in-
grained. He wiped his hands on a large blue rag throughout their
conversation.
You better come in.
In the midst of the shack s extraordinary clutter, it took Reeve
a while to work out that there was a desk and chair, and even a
PC. Paperwork covered the desk like so much camouflage, and
there were bits of engines everywhere.
I d ask you to sit, said Trasker, but there s nowhere to sit. If
someone s writing me a check, I sometimes clear some space for
them, but otherwise you stand.
Standing s fine.
So what is it you want, Mr. Reeve?
You know my brother was found in a locked car, Mr.
Trasker?
Trasker nodded. We got the car right here.
Police smashed the window to get in.
That they did. We got the replacement part on order.
Reeve stood close beside the older man. Is there any way
someone could have locked the car afterwards? I mean, after my
brother died?
58
Blood Hunt
Trasker stared at him. What s your point, son?
I m just wondering if that s possible.
Trasker thought about it. Hell, of course it s possible. All
you d need s a spare set of keys. Come to think of it . . . Trasker s
voice trailed off.
What?
Let me go check something. He turned and left the shack.
Reeve and Cantona followed him outside, but he turned back to
them, holding up his hands. Now, let me do this by myself. That
car s not something you should be seeing.
Reeve nodded, and watched Trasker go. Then he told Can-
tona to stay where he was, and began to follow the old man.
Around the back of the shack, and past heaps of wrecked cars,
Reeve saw that there was another low-slung building, double-
garage size. Half a dozen tall gas cylinders stood like metal sentries
outside a wide door, which stood open. There was a car jacked up
inside, but Trasker squeezed past it. Reeve looked around him. He
was five or six miles outside San Diego, inland towards the hills.
The air was stiller here, not quite so fresh. He had to decide now,
right now. He took a deep breath and made for the garage.
What is it? he asked Trasker.
The old man shot up from his crouching position and swiveled
on his heels. Nearly gave me a damned heart attack, he com-
plained.
Sorry. Reeve came forward. Trasker had opened the door
of the car and was studying it. The car James Reeve had died in.
It was smarter than Reeve had expected, a good deal newer, as
good certainly as anything in the Mexican s lot. He approached it
slowly. The seats were leather or Leatherette, and had been
wiped clean. But as he bent down to peer inside, he could see
stains against the roof. A rust-colored trajectory, fanning out
towards the back of the car. He thought of touching the blood,
maybe it was still damp. But he tore his gaze away from it.
Trasker was looking at him.
I told you to stay put, the old man said quietly.
I had to see.
Trasker nodded, understanding. You want a moment to
yourself?
59
Ian Rankin
Reeve shook his head. I want to know what you were look-
ing at.
Trasker pointed to the interior door-lock on the driver s side.
See there? he said, touching it. Can you see a little notch, low
down on the lock?
Reeve looked more closely. Yes, he said.
There s one on the passenger door-lock too.
Yes?
They re sensors, son. They sense a beam from a remote-
control key ring.
You mean you can lock and unlock the doors from a distance?
That s right.
So what?
So, said Trasker, digging into his overall pockets and
pulling out a key on a chain, here s what came with the car. This
is the key that was in the ignition when the police found the car.
Now, this is obviously the spare key.
Reeve looked at it. Because there s no button to activate the
locks?
Exactly. Trasker took the key back. You only usually get
the one remote-control key ring with a car like this. The spare
key they give you is plain, like the one I m holding.
Reeve thought about it. Then, without saying anything, he
walked back to Cantona s car. Cantona was standing in the shade
provided by the shack.
Eddie, Reeve said, I want you to do something for me.
By the time Daniel Trasker caught up with Reeve, Cantona s
car was already reversing out of the yard.
I want to wait here a few minutes, Reeve said.
Trasker shrugged. Then what?
Then, if I may, I d like to use your phone.
Carlos Perez was sucking on a fresh cigar when his telephone
rang. It was the brother Gordon Reeve again.
Yes, Gordon, my friend, Perez said pleasantly. Did you
forget something?
60
Blood Hunt
I just wondered about the car key, Reeve said.
The car key? This Reeve was incredible, the way his mind
worked. What about the key?
Do you give your customers a spare set, or just the one?
That depends on the model of vehicle, Gordon, and other
considerations, too. Perez put his cigar down. It tipped from the
edge of the ashtray and rolled off the desk to the floor. He walked
around the side of his desk and crouched down, the telephone
gripped to his ear.
Did my brother s car have remote locking?
Perez made a noise like he was thinking. The cigar was be-
neath his desk. He felt for it, and received a burn on the side of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]