Page 62 - Labelle Gramercy, Detective

Road Kill

project materiel to be American-made, it is likely that those tires
arrived in Jolibana on the wheels of Land Rovers shipped from the
United States.”
My mind raced. “But there are dozens of vehicles like that in-
country. We distribute a lot of them to senior Jolibanan officials
involved in major development projects. And what about all the
personal vehicles Americans ship over here and then sell?—at a tidy
profit, I know, but once sold, their tires could end up on anyone’s
car.”
She shook her head. “The deliberateness of the crime indicates the
killer knew the victim. Please, I must confirm one or two points this
morning before the cars in the motor pool are washed.”
We proceeded in silence out of the embassy building through a
side door into the large compound surrounded by sheds serving as
warehouse and repair shop for government-issue equipment like
generators, large appliances and vehicles. One of these out-buildings
also housed the infamous concrete escape boat, our only means of
reaching the airport across the river should insurrection occur and
the bridge become impassable. But more on that subject in my next
chapter.
It seemed we were a little late. Four or five Land Rovers sat out in
the strong late-morning sunlight, steam still rising from the rapidly-
evaporating patches of water in the shade beneath their chassis. I
introduced Labelle to the local in charge, a man I barely knew. She
soon had him chatting away in a mixture of French and Jolikan,
demonstrating the instant intimacy people in West Africa can develop
once the necessary formalities of introduction and greeting are
completed. My mind strayed to affairs of state and the problems I
was having with my cook. I wished I had brought my sunglasses
outside with me.
“Take a look at this, Mr. Tate.” Labelle’s voice uttering an English
sentence recalled me from my reverie. I wiped my brow and regarded
the Land Rover she stood beside.
“It’s a match,” she said in low tones not devoid of triumph and
vindication—or so I uncharitably thought. “Now you’re really in the
middle of this investigation. We’ve got to go through it together,
now, right to the end.”

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