Cold Shoulder (33 page)

Lorraine sat in the perfectly positioned chair, not too far away from the desk. ‘No. It’s not about traffic violations.’

‘Is it connected with…’ Hunter opened his desk drawer and withdrew a card. ‘A Lieutenant Josh Bean?’

‘No, it isn’t.’

‘He was here earlier, some kind of check on stolen vehicles.’

‘That’s not my department. I’m investigating an insurance claim.’ She took out Rosie’s pictures. ‘Do you recognize any of these men?’

Hunter leaned forward, sifting methodically through the photographs. He put seven aside. She watched as he glanced at the one of Steven Janklow. He frowned, hesitated a moment, and then looked up. ‘These seven men work here in various capacities.’

She tapped Steven Janklow’s picture. ‘How about him?’

Hunter picked up the photograph. ‘This could be Mr Janklow. He’s one of the partners but it’s not a very good picture. I recognize the car more than the face. It’s one of ours — it’s actually owned by Brad Thorburn. Is it something to do with Mr Thorburn?’

Lorraine nodded, looking around for an ashtray. As Hunter passed her a silver one with the S and A logo stamped into the centre, she noticed his gold cufflinks which also carried the insignia. She tapped the ash from her cigarette and eased out the picture of the woman driving the Mercedes. ‘Do you know her?’

He stuck out his bottom lip, shaking his head. ‘No. It could be Mrs Thorburn, Mr Thorburn’s mother, but I really wouldn’t know as I’ve never met her. But the car is the same. It belongs, as I said, to Mr Thorburn. Has it been in an accident?’

‘No.’ Lorraine packed away the pictures. ‘Do you have a schedule of who was on or off duty over a period of time?’

He nodded, tapping his foot. She then pulled out Norman Hastings’s picture. ‘Do you recognize this man?’

Hunter sighed irritably. ‘His name was Norman Hastings. Is it his insurance? He was murdered, is that what this is about?’

Lorraine assented.

‘Well, I’m sorry, but I never dealt with him. All I know is he was a pain in the butt. He bought a car from us, long time ago before I joined the company.’ He leaned back, splaying out his hands affectedly. ‘If you buy one of our vehicles at the prices we ask, we have first-class mechanics and maintenance engineers at your service. We attempt to make sure no vehicle ever leaves here without its engine having been rechecked, rebuilt if necessary. Many purchasers have the cars customized to their own specifications. Every modification is made to ensure a trouble-free vehicle, but, that said, we’re not dealing in new cars. Some of these are twenty, even thirty years old, and sometimes there will be problems. But we give a six-month guarantee to every vehicle, and for the first six months we will collect and redeliver should any mechanical fault occur.’

He laughed like an actor, his speech, even his own humour rehearsed. ‘We had someone here not long ago, I think he had a Bentley, and he called us out simply because he was unsure where he should put the gas!’

‘Norman Hastings?’ Lorraine said quietly.

‘His car was a Morgan. He was on the phone almost every day wanting it collected and tested. And then we discovered that the faults were self-inflicted because he was constantly taking the engine apart and rebuilding it — or that’s what Mr Janklow said.’

‘Is Mr Janklow here today?’

‘Yes.’

Lorraine asked if it were possible to find out who was on or off work at the time of Hastings’s murder and that included Mr Janklow.

Hunter plucked at his lip. ‘Why would you want that for an insurance claim? Anyway, Mr Janklow doesn’t work on any schedule system. He comes and goes when he likes.’

Lorraine asked if Janklow was around on the evening when Holly was murdered but Hunter shrugged his shoulders. He stared at a wall calendar. ‘I simply couldn’t tell you. All I know is he arrives and leaves when he feels like it.’

‘Is there a place for parking workers’ cars?’

‘Out back. It’s like an old aircraft hangar — there’s always cars there — our own, some waiting for work to be done, others that have just been shipped in.’

Lorraine opened her notebook and reeled off the car each body had been found in but to little effect. Hunter could not recall any of them. He was becoming puzzled by the dates and lists of cars. She played a wild card. ‘Not even, say, Norman Hastings’s blue Sedan?’

‘Ah, yes, he left that here on a number of occasions.’

Lorraine felt her heart jump, like a kick of pleasure at her own cleverness. ‘Would you just check the last time you saw it here.’

Hunter looked at his watch. He picked up the phone, ‘Sheena, can you please check the last time Norman Hastings came in and left his vehicle? Thank you.’ He hung up. ‘The police asked this, and they’ve already been over the hangars.’

Lorraine lit another cigarette and tossed the match into the ashtray. ‘Hastings sold his car, didn’t he? Quite a few years ago. Do you know if he purchased any other vintage car? Did he sell it via S and A?’

‘Not to my knowledge but I didn’t have anything to do with him.’

‘Did Mr Thorburn also know Hastings?’

‘I believe so.’

The phone rang and Hunter answered it. He drew a notepad towards him, said ‘yes’ a few times, thanked the caller and ripped off the page. ‘Hastings
apparently had some arrangement to leave his car here — my secretary isn’t sure who he made it with or the last time he came.’

‘So he parked his own car here and yet he hadn’t owned one of your vehicles recently?’

‘Seems so.’

‘Do you think the arrangement would have been with Mr Janklow?’

‘I’ve no idea. My direct boss is Mr Thorburn, not Mr Janklow.’

‘What do you think of him?’ she asked nonchalantly.

‘Brad? He’s great to work for. He’s firm, you know where you are with him, but he’s also fun, loves a good laugh.’

‘I meant Steven Janklow.’

Hunter pursed his lips in distaste. ‘I have little to do with him so I can’t say what he’s like.’

‘You could try.’

‘I don’t see eye to eye with him, that’s all. He’s volatile. One day he’s friendly, the next he’ll cut you dead. He’s witty but it’s that put-down humour, that’s all.’

‘Is he married?’

‘No.’

‘Is he homosexual?’

Hunter was shocked. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Do you think he could be? Or could he be something else?’

‘Like normal?’

Lorraine stood up. ‘Fine, so you think he’s a nice, normal guy. I’m sorry, but my firm insists on me completing these amazing questionnaires.’

‘But I told you, he’s not that nice.’

Hunter gave her a hooded look and she smiled broadly. ‘How about not that normal either?’ she said. She was beginning to like the Ivy League car salesman. She reckoned he was being honest with her and was green enough to have taken her at face value as an insurance claim officer. She looked through the white blind to the front yard.

‘Is he suspected of something?’ Hunter asked. ‘The police asked a lot of questions to some of the other staff but they weren’t very interested in me. I wasn’t here the week of the Hastings murder.’ He sounded disappointed.

Lorraine got out the photographs again. ‘What about taking another look at that photo of the blonde woman? Can you tell me if it could be Janklow?’

Hunter picked up the photograph. He studied it and his voice went quiet. ‘I honestly don’t know, Mrs Page, and I would hate to embarrass Mr Thorburn. He’s a good friend.’

‘Norman Hastings’s family cannot sell his car or claim any monies on his insurance until I have completed my questionnaire.’

‘Is Mr Janklow under suspicion?’

Lorraine ran her fingers through her hair. It was difficult to ask what she wanted to know without getting into trouble.

‘There are rumours,’ he said suddenly. She waited as Hunter determined whether or not to continue. ‘I don’t know if I should repeat them as they are just rumours.’ He came to a decision. ‘He has some odd mannerisms and he can be affected. Nobody here knows much about his private life, just that a few years ago there was an inquiry. He was interviewed by the Vice Squad, arrested. Nothing came of it.’

There was a light tap on the door and a pretty girl peered in. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr Hunter, but you have a customer waiting.’

Hunter introduced his secretary, Sheena. Lorraine asked if she and Sheena could have a quick chat and look at the hangar where the cars were kept. He said he had better ask his superior.

‘I’ll wait here with Sheena then,’ Lorraine said.

Sheena looked at Lorraine. ‘You wanna know about Norman Hastings? He used to come here quite a lot. He used to park his car out back — loved to look over the new arrivals. I had to check back this morning for the police. As far as I can remember these were the dates when his car was left here. I gave the officers a copy too.’ She passed over a neatly typed list. ‘I was so shocked when I read about his murder. He was such a quiet, unassuming man, like my dad.’

Lorraine looked over the dates and then smiled warmly at her. ‘If I were to give you a list of other cars, could you see if they were parked out in the hangar at any time?’

Sheena bit her lip. ‘I’ve already got one list from the police but I told them it’s not a garage, we just let the workers park there and a few friends. Sometimes there’s no free space.’

‘Could we take a look at the hangar?’

Lorraine followed Sheena across a wide yard. There were a number of outbuildings and she could see cars on ramps and mechanics working. The business seemed to be thriving and she calculated that there were a lot more employees than Rosie had said.

The hangar was boiling hot and there were rows of cars, fender to fender. Some had tarpaulins over them and seemed to have been left for a considerable time. Dust covered others waiting to be reconditioned and then came a large section of what looked like the workers’ cars.

‘Mr Thorburn likes the employees’ vehicles out of sight, says it’s not a good advertisement. We park here and this is where Mr Hastings’s car usually was, just for a few hours at a time, but he always left the keys. We have to leave the keys in case they need to be moved if a delivery arrives.’

They reached the back of the hangar and looked over three racing cars, all draped in protective silver covers. ‘These are Mr Thorburn’s specials. He used to race a lot, but not so much nowadays. One of his wives created a stink about it…’ Sheena opened a door at the back of the hangar into a corridor. It was air-conditioned, freezing cold compared with the hangar. They passed large offices with white blinds on the windows. One was Brad Thorburn’s, his name on a wood plaque cut into the door. They arrived at Sheena’s where she took out a large log book to check the list of cars Lorraine had given her. ‘It’s the same list the police gave me. I told them there was just the one. Mr Hastings’s.’

The phone rang. She answered it, listened and then said, ‘I’d better go. I’ve got to take the sales invoices to Mr Hunter. Every week the top salesman gets a bonus.’

‘Can I wait?’

‘Sure. I’ll tell Mr Hunter you’re in here.’

Sheena gathered up a file and walked out. She left the door ajar. As soon as she was half-way down the corridor, Lorraine closed the door, picked up the log book and began to search through it. She was getting close, she knew it. She felt herself growing excited. She was sure Steven Janklow was connected to the case.

Rosie got out of the car, her dress sticking to her in the heat. A number of people had already taken a good look at her, noticing that she was parked in their yard. She walked round the car, fanning herself with her hand. She was thirsty and Lorraine had been gone over an hour. Just as she thought she would go into S and A, a mechanic walked out of the building and headed towards her. ‘This is a private road, you want something?’

‘No. My friend’s inside,’ She pointed to the S and A building.

‘Why don’t you wait over there? We’re expecting a delivery any minute. Go on, move.’

Rosie returned to the car and started up the engine. She backed out and parked for a while in the street. Then she circled the block. She was heading past S and A when a white Mercedes passed her and drove onto the forecourt. Rosie watched Steven Janklow head round to the rear of the building and disappear before she could get her camera out. She dabbed her sweating face with a tissue. ‘Come on, for God’s sake, Lorraine, what are you doing in there?’ she muttered. From where she was parked, opposite the garage, she could see a smart salesman talking to two Japanese men. All three disappeared inside. Still no Lorraine.

The door opened and Sheena came back in. ‘Sorry, but I got held up. I haven’t been able to speak to Mr Hunter yet — he’s still with a couple of clients and I think they want a test drive.’ A voice from one of the other offices called, ‘Good morning, Mr Janklow.’

Sheena pulled a face. ‘He’s here. Look, I’d better go and tell Mr Hunter that you’re still waiting.’

Lorraine picked up her purse. ‘No, it’s okay. I’ll find him myself. Thank you for the coffee.’

‘I hope I was of some help. It was just so terrible, poor Mr Hastings.’

‘Did you see him when he was here the last time?’

‘No, but when he came to see Mr Janklow, he’d pop in and leave me his car keys. I think he banked up the street, but his office isn’t far away. He was always anxious about parking fines. Funny, really, worrying about something as small as that and then… he gets killed.’

‘But Mr Janklow was here
then
?’

‘Yes. Do you want to speak to him?’

‘Maybe later. I’ll just go see Mr Hunter. Thanks for everything.’

Lorraine walked out, into the blast of cold air in the corridor. Her heart jumped as she passed Janklow’s office but he was not inside; through the blinds, she could see a secretary placing papers on the desk. She continued along the corridor, came into the hangar and walked quickly out into the sunshine. She stood for a moment to get her bearings and then took off towards the path winding around the building, intending to go back to Rosie. Then she saw the Mercedes parked by a car-wash area. She hugged the wall when she saw a man talking to one of the attendants. He was gesturing to the car’s wheels. Then he leaned into it and pointed to the interior. She saw the attendant nod, then heard him tell two black kids to wash and vacuum Mr Janklow’s car, and polish up the chrome on the hub caps and fenders.