MACASKILL’S GARAGE was, as you would probably expect a wrecking yard to be, tucked away in a dreary part of Earmam. Sholto drove along Purcell Road, narrow with high fences on either side of it that blocked access to a bunch of warehouses and industrial units that didn’t want people wandering in off the street and seeing what they were up to. MacAskill’s had a large gate for cars, vans and trucks to get through, which was closed and locked, and a smaller one for people, which wasn’t.
Sholto parked out on the street and said, “Looks like we’re getting some unwanted exercise.”
They walked in through the gate and found themselves in a valley of car parts, the empty shells of vehicles piled up on either side of them. The innards had been picked clean by the vulture that ran the place and the frames stacked and left to rust in the hard rain falling over Challaid. They were way up over head height so neither Darian nor Sholto could see past them and they led in a straight line to a sharp corner, forcing anyone who entered to walk along the muddy ground for a few valuable seconds before they had the chance to turn and see the building. It felt like the defense mechanism of a paranoid owner so it wasn’t a surprise when a dog came hurtling round the corner to check on them. Rather than a snarling security beast, however, it was a border collie with a shiny coat and its tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth. It looked delighted by its newfound company.
Sholto didn’t share the joy, stepping back behind Darian and saying, “Bloody hell, a junkyard dog. That’s just what I need, to get torn to pieces in a car graveyard.”
The dog had reached Darian and turned sideways to walk with him, pressing itself against his leg so he would reach down and stroke it behind the ear. As he did Darian said, “Well, he might be crazy because I think he just wants to be your friend, don’t you, boy?”
“It’s not his taste I’m worried about, it’s his teeth.”
They turned the corner to see MacAskill’s Garage ahead on their right, a single-story brown brick building with a flat roof and two large garage doors that you could squeeze a small truck into if you really needed to. Both doors were open and there were no cars out in the open square in front of the building. There was a large yellow machine opposite the garage that looked like a small crane and a fat green box the size of a shipping container that Darian assumed was the crusher. A man in his sixties with silver hair and blue overalls sauntered out of the garage with a cigarette in his mouth to see what his adorable alarm had gone running to greet.
Darian said, “Joe MacAskill?”
“Yeah. You the pair JJ was on about?”
“How did you guess?”
He nodded and said, “You look like the pair he was talking about. Come in.”
Neither of them knew whether to take that as an insult or not so followed MacAskill in without reply. The look he gave them and then the dog as he patted it told them what little cheer he had was reserved for his canine pal, so there was no need to aspire to good manners.
Darian asked, “Did JJ tell you what we’re looking for?”
MacAskill had deep lines on his face, a weathered charm to him. “Told me you were wanting detail on the cove that brought the Passat for removal, didn’t say much else. Said you would pay.”
“Yeah, I thought he’d remember to mention that. We will, if you can help us.”
MacAskill watched Sholto who was nervously eyeing the dog. Every time the animal made eye contact with him it thought it was going to get a scratch so shuffled a little closer, which caused Sholto to move back a half-step and confuse the dog.
MacAskill said, “She won’t bite you. Might lick you to death, but that’s about it.”
“Aye, well, I’ll be dead either way so I’d rather avoid it.”
MacAskill shook his head. “Come through to the office, I’ll show you what you’re looking for.”
On the desk in his office he opened a laptop and switched on a media player, selecting the file dated the day the car was destroyed. He pressed play and they watched in silence as the footage showed the car coming in the front gate first thing in the morning. He opened another file that showed footage from a camera just inside the garage, the man getting out of the car and talking to MacAskill on the threshold. The new arrival was wearing a coat, a baseball cap and dark glasses. Darian paused the footage on the best angle it had of his face but the quality was too poor.
Darian said, “Can you remember anything about him?”
“He was youngish. Twenties, maybe thirty. He was in a hurry, but that isn’t unusual. Local, I think.”
Sholto said, “A man comes in dressed to conceal and you do business with him, no questions?”
“A man comes in with cash in his hand and he can have on a fat suit, a plastic mustache and a plasticine nose for all I care. I trained as a mechanic, not a minister of the kirk.”
“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”
“Couldn’t say that I would, no. You two can look over that, I’ll be outside waiting for you to pay me for my help.”
MacAskill and the dog went out of the office and left them alone to look at the paused footage.
Darian said, “Could be anyone.”
“Could be Vinny.”
Darian groaned, thought about saying it was too small to be him but stopped, the coat and the angle making it hard to rule anyone out.
Sholto said, “Doesn’t help us a great deal then.”
“I don’t think that’s likely to be Vinny, too narrow.”
“I’m afraid think and likely aren’t going to cut it in court, kid, we need actual proof. I’m going to go out and see how little I can persuade Cerberus’s master this is worth. You watch it again and see if your younger eyes can make anything of it. Oh, and save it onto something for goodness’ sake. Make sure we have a copy before the dog pees on the laptop or something.”
Darian watched both videos again on his own, trying to persuade himself it couldn’t possibly be Vinny and not quite managing.