Horowitz, Anthony - A Line to Kill by Horowitz Anthony

Author:Horowitz, Anthony [Horowitz, Anthony]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harper
Published: 2021-08-25T00:00:00+00:00

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We didn’t say very much on the way back to the hotel either. Even Terry managed to remain unusually quiet until the moment he dropped us off.

‘So what time do you want me to pick you up?’ he asked. ‘I don’t mind waiting for you outside if you’re going to have a spot of lunch.’

‘No thanks, mate,’ Hawthorne said. ‘I think we’re done for today.’

‘Tomorrow then?’ Terry was like a dog, panting at the leash. ‘Best business I’ve had all year,’ he went on. ‘You don’t know what it’s like, driving a taxi in a small place like this. It’ll all be mine when Dad retires, but . . . I don’t know! It’s like selling meat to vegetarians. Nobody’s got anywhere to go.’

Hawthorne and I had agreed to meet after lunch, but as we walked to the front door we ran into Maïssa Lamar on her way out, in a hurry. The timing couldn’t have been worse as far as she was concerned. She would have preferred to leave without being seen, but she was already face to face with Hawthorne and he wasn’t stepping out of the way. ‘I was hoping to speak to you,’ he said.

She looked at him blankly. She hadn’t understood what he had said. ‘I’m sorry?’ She managed to make the two words sound remarkably aggressive.

‘I have questions for you.’

‘Why?’

‘You haven’t noticed what’s been going on around here?’

‘I mean . . . why do I speak to you? Who are you? You are not police. You are only invited . . . same as me.’

‘I’m now working with the police. They’ve asked me to help them.’

‘I speak already with the police. I tell them all I know. I know nothing. Now, please. I am in hurry . . .’ She pushed past him and continued on her way.

It was the first time I had ever seen anyone refuse to cooperate with Hawthorne. When you think about it, it’s something that very rarely happens . . . at least, in fiction. When the detective asks questions, the suspects invariably answer them. Nobody ever told Morse or Rebus to mind their own business. It’s some sort of peculiar convention that even if the culprits are nervous that they’ll slip up and say something that gives them away, they will never hold back.

I thought Hawthorne would be angry that he had just been snubbed by a French performance poet dressed in torn clothes, cheap jewellery and a punk haircut, but he seemed unperturbed. ‘Where do you go in a hurry when there’s nowhere to actually go?’ That was his only remark as we continued into the hotel.

We were about to go up to our separate rooms but as we arrived at the reception desk to pick up our keys, we found Special Constable Jane Whitlock waiting for us. She was sitting in a chair with her hat perched on her knees and looked no happier than she had that morning.

‘Deputy Chief Torode asked me to see you,’ she said.

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