The Old Success by Martha Grimes

Author:Martha Grimes
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780802147417
Publisher: Grove Atlantic
Published: 2019-11-14T14:00:00+00:00

PART II

Fixer

19

The next morning, Jury took the North Circular Road to the Golders Green exit and had only to drive a short distance before he came to a jumble of warehouses and lockups, where he saw CRENSHAW’S CARS and, beneath the name of the business, ALEX CRENSHAW, PROP.

It told him something about Alex Crenshaw: the brevity, the exactness, the lack of flourish. Jury already liked the guy.

Liked him even more when he got out of his car and looked around the lot. If the Porsche next to which he parked his police-issue Cortina was proof of what Crenshaw could do with a fix-up, he was in the right business. The sleek black body looked as if it had never been on the road, let alone had any dents or rust. Jury thought surely it must be a new car until he saw a for sale sign discreetly placed beneath a windscreen wiper. The asking price told him it was definitely not new. And nor could Jury afford this used version. There were a dozen other cars—all European—out here and all in the same pristine, new-looking condition. But what really won Jury over was the repair shop itself. On the far left was a lighted room, small, and clearly the office. The rest of it consisted of two bays. Above the first hung a sign: CRITICAL CARE. And above the second: ON THE MEND.

Jury smiled. Here was a man who could look at cars not as things just to be pushed and pried and hammered on but as objects with feelings.

The cars out here were definitely out of the critical-care unit: the two Ferraris, the Lamborghini, the Aston Martin, the gorgeous red BMW convertible—all looked mended to within an inch of their lives. It was the BMW Jury was inspecting when he heard a voice at his elbow, a North London accent delivered in a mellifluous voice.

“Good car, that. Engine like a hummingbird. You like it?”

“How could one not?” Jury turned to see a middle-aged man, mildly handsome with a welcoming expression.

“I could give you a great deal on it, if you’re interested.”

“Mr. Crenshaw, even a great deal would have my bank account running for cover. But if I had money, believe me, you’d have my business. And I know of at least two people who do have money and whose business you’re going to get. No, three people, although one of them might be too lazy to drive here from Northamptonshire.”

Alex Crenshaw laughed. “Can’t say I blame him.”

“Her. I’m mightily impressed,” Jury added, looking around the lot at cars and bays.

“Thanks. But who do I have the pleasure of impressing? Alex Crenshaw.” He held out his hand.

Jury shook it, and with the other hand took out his warrant card. “Richard Jury, New Scotland Yard CID.”

“My God. What have you done?” Crenshaw addressed the BMW.

“Nothing to be charged with.”

“That’s a relief. I just finished fixing this guy up.” He patted the car. “Okay, then what have I done?”

“Ditto. I’m just after a bit of information.

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