Page 49 - Labelle Gramercy, Detective

Road Kill

morning. Probably stolen; as an adhesive, it’s a good substitute for
mortar, and mud brick walls do tend to come unglued during the
rainy season. But if it rains again tonight, those tire tracks will wash
away. I have no confidence in these ad hoc umbrellas, so I made
some sketches as back-up.”
We started the drive back to Quartier Nouveau. I gave her my
theory about the availability of witnesses, and asked, “Do you think
the Jolibanan police have a chance of catching the hit-and-run
driver?”
Her voice was grim. “If I don’t get him—or her—first.”
I shook my head. There had to be at least a thousand cars and
trucks in the capital. Perhaps it would be a good exercise for her
detectives-in-training to check them all. If she wanted to spend the
night wearing out the police force’s cheap Chinese flashlight
batteries, more power to her; all I had to do was drop her off and go
home. Ambassador Weatherall would have to be notified when he
came in to work the next day, preferably by me. Then it dawned on
me: Winston Weatherall had not spent the evening at home. His
schedule called for cocktails and dinner with a visiting World Bank
official—at the Hotel du Fleuve.

<< 4 >>

As I once again drove through mostly deserted side streets to Lon
Durer’s farewell party, my thoughts were divided between two
mysterious Peace Corps volunteers: one, dead, would forever remain
an enigma to me; the other, sitting beside me, presented a curious
mix of qualities. She was an all-American girl, of that there was no
doubt; no one would have mistaken her for a European after
listening to her speak or watching her move. She displayed the
youthful dedication the best of the PCV’s somehow managed to
retain after facing the realities of their situation, but in her case the
focus was different. She couldn’t have been out of college more than
a couple of years, but she had already developed a single-minded
desire to pursue her chosen field, criminology. There was no small
talk with Labelle Gramercy. She wasn’t unapproachable—not if you
approached her in the spirit of her investigations.

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