Page 61 - Labelle Gramercy, Detective

Road Kill

“What was she doing in town last night?”
“Oh, she had come in for some medical care. That’s the best
excuse to leave your village, and it’s usually a very good one. You
know what an improperly treated scratch can turn into, given the lack
of sanitation and the climate.”
Indeed I did, and I believe that knowledge accounted for the
fastidiousness I developed after joining the Foreign Service.
“So she ran into her nemesis last night, purely by chance?”
Labelle nodded. “What passed between them will remain a
mystery. Ferris Canby might have witnessed any exchange they had,
but he is unreliable. Bonnie has had enough practice driving a Land
Rover to put her in the same category as Ferris: a person with motive,
means and opportunity.”
“But what about everyone else in this city? Aren’t you and
Monsieur Coulibaly looking into the possibility that a Jolibanan ran
her down and then hit her again to avoid detection? Why focus on
Americans when it could be anybody with a car in this city?”
“That is why I am here.” She stood up. “I want to look at the
vehicles in the motor pool, and you can take me in there.”
“All right.” I felt compelled to assist her; nevertheless, I did not
like being treated as if I were her assistant. “But you’ve got to assure
me that this isn’t some sort of witch-hunt or vendetta you’re on.”
She flashed her green eyes and managed a tight smile. “If you feel
I am not being professional, Mr. Tate, I can go through other
channels.”
Now that was something! This young woman, barely into her
twenties, had already grasped the essence of professionalism—
ruthless manipulation in the service of power—and was so sure of
herself that she didn’t mind letting me know she knew it.
“Miss Gramercy,” I replied, suppressing a grin, “you have my
complete confidence. Perhaps you could give me some of yours.”
The steely gaze relaxed. “Yes, I suppose I should tell you why I
am pursuing this angle. The casts we made last night were not
perfect, but two or three of them are good enough to confirm what I
suspected upon inspection of the scene last night: the tracks were
made by American tires. Goodyear A375-15, to be precise. They are
not available here, nor are they sold in Europe, as far as I know.
Given the U.S. government’s requirement for a certain percentage of

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