The Dead List Read Online Free PDF Page B

influence on their little station house. Banman had probably even changed into a clean shirt.
    Half an hour later, after picking up Ryberg, the two of them stood in the showroom of the largest car lot in town, waiting to see the manager. Hope was a town of contrasts, and those contrasts were very apparent as the men stood hemmed in between the shiny, new cars. Last night they’d walked the streets where the smell of the poverty was overpowering. But in other areas of town the houses of the affluent stood together, like the neighborhood where Michael Robinson’s driver’s license claimed he lived. Those were the addresses of the logging camp executives and business owners. Menno’s Ford – the car lot where Robinson worked – was unlike the area where the man had taken his last breaths. The dealership’s main building, with its high glass windows, stood in the middle of the town’s small commercial center, and all the other roads spider-legged away from it.
    There were two other car lots in Hope, but Menno’s was the only place that sold new cars. Drake was content to drive his fifteen-year-old pickup truck and rarely noticed the business as he passed. The appearance of the dealership was deceiving. It looked far better from the outside than it did inside. The sunlight glared in and shone on three new cars that sat angled away from each other, showing off the stylish pieces of machinery. But from his vantage point, Drake could see that the once impressive glass walls of the building were dulled and scuffed in places. In the customer area at the entrance there was a faded couch and two leather chairs – the material on the furniture cracking, barely covering the foam and springs.
    Even though the dealership had long lost its luster, there seemed to be no shortage of inventory. Two rows of new Ford vehicles lined up around the business with signs displaying their sale prices and monthly payments.  
    After waiting for five minutes, Ryberg looked at his watch and tapped it impatiently. He held his badge in the air in front of him and addressed the young woman who had greeted them at the entrance. “Can you show me where Michael Robinson’s office is please?”
    She was a girl, barely a woman, perhaps twenty-two or twenty-three years old. Her blond hair was swept to one side in a fashion that Drake had only seen on television. Not a hair moved as she stood up from her desk at the reception area and walked toward the two men. She had different colored nail polish on each of her fingernails, and her fresh, modern look was a sharp contrast to the tired, old showroom. A couple of employees wearing the same white shirt with the company’s logo on the pocket had walked through the maze of desks and cars, but neither of theirs was as polar white or as curvy. Stopping a few feet from the men, she straightened her very short skirt with her long, pale, fingers, and pointed toward an empty desk that had portable walls on two sides.
    She seemed to have something in her eye and dabbed at it as she spoke to the policemen. “It’s not really an office – more of a desk. That’s where the sales consultants work.”
    As soon as she turned and her heels began clicking away from them, Ryberg lifted up the desk blotter, looking below it, and then opened a drawer. Drake joined in the search and jiggled the mouse, bringing the computer to life. The screensaver had a picture of a sleek, red car. Words flashed from the smoke coming out of the exhaust – “Welcome To Mike’s Area.”
    “Clever.”
    Ryberg nodded. “I’ll have Myron make a formal request for us to pick up the hard drive. If there’s any resistance I’ll warrant it.”
    The woman was back at her desk. Peering over the reception counter, she watched them go through the dead salesman’s things. Her mouth was slightly open as though she was about to say something.
    Before she could speak, one of the office doors at the rear of the building flew open, and another