Craig decided to get in early to make sure he settled in before Detective Rod Halphen showed up and disrupted his day with whatever wild goose chase he was on. He beat Pavel and Clint by ten minutes, remembered to disarm the alarm system and they were sipping coffee and organising the job sheets for the day when they were interrupted.
“Morning gents,” said Halphen, walking into the workshop as if they were long time friends. They had met him once before, when they were repairing a car that turned out to be “re-birthed” after an insurance fraud. Halphen had got a lot of kudos for solving the case, and he was fulsome in his praise for the “fine citizens at Advanced Smash Repairs”, but that didn't pay for all the work that Pavel had done on the car before they blew the whistle on the owners and Halphen had the car impounded.
“Rod, how are you?” Craig returned the friendly familiarity with interest and a hearty handshake.
“Oh, fine, thanks. How are you going with the BMW?”
“Assessor is coming to look at it today, so we'll know then.”
“Can I have a look at it?”
Craig and Rod both knew he had no right to do that, but he wasn't going to find anything that hadn't shown itself in the rigorous examination he and Pavel had given it last night. Craig had put the keys into the lockable key cupboard with the rest of the keys, so when he got them out Rod had no reason to think Craig thought anything special about the BMW. But after Craig popped it unlocked with the remote, he put the keys in his pocket.
“Go ahead.”
“Thanks, mate.”
Halphen opened all the doors of the car and had a look around, trying not to give the impression he was looking for something. But he didn't take long to work out that there wasn't anything to be found easily. He closed all the doors carefully, the way people do with cars they could never afford to buy for themselves.
“Craig, thanks mate, Can I have a word?”
Halphen drew Craig across to the top of the ramp.
“Can you let me know when anything happens with this car?”
“Sure, I guess so. I'd ask you if you can tell me why, but I'm guessing you won't.”
Rod smiled, gave Craig a sturdy pat on the arm, handed him a card and headed off down the ramp.
The job sheets were sorted out when Boris arrived in the Lada, and slid it carefully and gracefully into his parking spot.
“Have you ever ridden in that thing?” whispered Craig
“Once or twice. I know he thinks it's pretty hot, he won't let me near it.”
“Did he show you what it can do?”
“I know he fancies himself as a racing driver, but the stupid pile of Russian bolts couldn't pull the skin of one of Mamma's custards!”
Craig shook his head. “Turbo and tricked up suspension. Goes like stink.”
“That sly dog. I told you he was a getaway driver.”
The mild mannered and remarkably neat Boris Batmanov walked over to his desk, holding a rolled-up magazine. He greeted them with a casual wave and the glimmer of a grin, placed his keys on his desk, sat down and began to read.
“When's the assessor coming to look at the BMW?”
Pavel threw his hands in the air. “I can't organise all your dates for you! Check the answering machine.”
