parking lot behind us.”
“ Lexus,” Karen said. “New. Year old. Small limo.”
“ Catch the plate?”
“ Nine-four-six something.”
“ Nine-four-six-eight-six H?”
Karen shrugged. “Could be.”
“ Catch the passenger’s face?” Hank asked, reaching for the radio.
“ In the back? No. Driver was Asian, though.”
“ Yeah.” He thumbed the radio and gave the make and plate number to Dispatch. As Karen made her way to the ramp that would take them onto the northbound expressway, Dispatch told Hank that the car was registered to Dicam International Shipping, 11001 Industrial Boulevard in Wilmingford.
“ Mean anything to you?” Karen asked, accelerating into the inside lane.
“ Not at the moment.”
“ Wanna go back?”
“ No.”
“ Good. Then you won’t need a session with the chiropractor after we’re done talking to his receptionist.”
8
Another office in another strip mall. In contrast with the expensively-furnished real estate office they had just left, however, this one was cluttered and run down. The waiting room was small and cramped. A row of chairs sat along the wall inside the door beside a corner table covered with magazines and brochure racks. A potted geranium on the corner table was wilted and dust-covered. A plastic basket under the table was filled with toys, a few of which had escaped and lay forgotten under one of the chairs.
A muscular young man sat in the chair closest to the door reading a magazine, his bull neck, thick arms and shaved head suggesting a college football player. On the wall were framed photographs of underwater plant life and tropical fish. It seemed that Dr. Albert Delahunty, the chiropractor, was an avid scuba diver in his spare time.
As Hank walked up to the waist-high counter and made eye contact with the woman sitting there, he felt his pulse jump. Taking a breath, he showed his badge and smiled. “I’m looking for Meredith Collier.”
“ That would be me.”
Hank nodded. “My name’s Donaghue. We spoke on the phone.”
He thought his voice sounded a little high-pitched and reedy. It was like finding a brand-new Maserati parked out front of a tenement building down near the docks and he was uncharacteristically flustered. She was 46 years old. She had wavy shoulder-length blond hair with a few stray threads of grey, a wide face with prominent cheekbones and a high forehead, blue eyes and impeccable white teeth that showed briefly between full lips as she forced a smile in acknowledgement. She picked up the telephone with a long-fingered, elegant hand and pressed a button.
“ Mrs. Delahunty? My appointment’s here. Thanks.” She cradled the phone and stood up as a large African-American woman in a brightly colored print dress entered the reception area and came around behind the counter.
“ I appreciate this,” Meredith said. “It won’t take long.”
“ That’s all right, hon, do what you have to do.” Mrs. Delahunty settled down and looked up at Hank.
“ Thank you,” Hank said, trying out his most charming smile.
Mrs. Delahunty blinked back at him without expression.
“ This way.” Meredith Collier indicated a doorway on the left.
The room was small, cluttered with equipment and dominated in the center by a brown vinyl-covered padded examination table with a u shaped cushion at one end. Hank had never been inside a chiropractor’s office before and he imagined that patients were required to lie face down on the padded table with their head wedged into the u. He looked for straps to hold a person in place while their bones were being twisted out of joint, but saw none. The whole thing made him feel very uncomfortable. He sat down in a chair next to a tiny cluttered desk and looked at a calendar on the wall featuring a picture of an erupting volcano. He took out his notebook and opened it on his knee. Karen sat on a little stool with wheels that presumably was used by Dr. Delahunty when he wasn’t required
“ Lexus,” Karen said. “New. Year old. Small limo.”
“ Catch the plate?”
“ Nine-four-six something.”
“ Nine-four-six-eight-six H?”
Karen shrugged. “Could be.”
“ Catch the passenger’s face?” Hank asked, reaching for the radio.
“ In the back? No. Driver was Asian, though.”
“ Yeah.” He thumbed the radio and gave the make and plate number to Dispatch. As Karen made her way to the ramp that would take them onto the northbound expressway, Dispatch told Hank that the car was registered to Dicam International Shipping, 11001 Industrial Boulevard in Wilmingford.
“ Mean anything to you?” Karen asked, accelerating into the inside lane.
“ Not at the moment.”
“ Wanna go back?”
“ No.”
“ Good. Then you won’t need a session with the chiropractor after we’re done talking to his receptionist.”
8
Another office in another strip mall. In contrast with the expensively-furnished real estate office they had just left, however, this one was cluttered and run down. The waiting room was small and cramped. A row of chairs sat along the wall inside the door beside a corner table covered with magazines and brochure racks. A potted geranium on the corner table was wilted and dust-covered. A plastic basket under the table was filled with toys, a few of which had escaped and lay forgotten under one of the chairs.
A muscular young man sat in the chair closest to the door reading a magazine, his bull neck, thick arms and shaved head suggesting a college football player. On the wall were framed photographs of underwater plant life and tropical fish. It seemed that Dr. Albert Delahunty, the chiropractor, was an avid scuba diver in his spare time.
As Hank walked up to the waist-high counter and made eye contact with the woman sitting there, he felt his pulse jump. Taking a breath, he showed his badge and smiled. “I’m looking for Meredith Collier.”
“ That would be me.”
Hank nodded. “My name’s Donaghue. We spoke on the phone.”
He thought his voice sounded a little high-pitched and reedy. It was like finding a brand-new Maserati parked out front of a tenement building down near the docks and he was uncharacteristically flustered. She was 46 years old. She had wavy shoulder-length blond hair with a few stray threads of grey, a wide face with prominent cheekbones and a high forehead, blue eyes and impeccable white teeth that showed briefly between full lips as she forced a smile in acknowledgement. She picked up the telephone with a long-fingered, elegant hand and pressed a button.
“ Mrs. Delahunty? My appointment’s here. Thanks.” She cradled the phone and stood up as a large African-American woman in a brightly colored print dress entered the reception area and came around behind the counter.
“ I appreciate this,” Meredith said. “It won’t take long.”
“ That’s all right, hon, do what you have to do.” Mrs. Delahunty settled down and looked up at Hank.
“ Thank you,” Hank said, trying out his most charming smile.
Mrs. Delahunty blinked back at him without expression.
“ This way.” Meredith Collier indicated a doorway on the left.
The room was small, cluttered with equipment and dominated in the center by a brown vinyl-covered padded examination table with a u shaped cushion at one end. Hank had never been inside a chiropractor’s office before and he imagined that patients were required to lie face down on the padded table with their head wedged into the u. He looked for straps to hold a person in place while their bones were being twisted out of joint, but saw none. The whole thing made him feel very uncomfortable. He sat down in a chair next to a tiny cluttered desk and looked at a calendar on the wall featuring a picture of an erupting volcano. He took out his notebook and opened it on his knee. Karen sat on a little stool with wheels that presumably was used by Dr. Delahunty when he wasn’t required
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