Read Online The Chop Shop by Christopher Heffernan - Free Book Online Page A

Harsh rays of red neon light cut through the window blinds. He spun the
trackball and woke the computer from its slumber, navigating the crude user
interface with a strange feeling of aggression.
    Richard chewed
off a chunk of finger nail, watching over his shoulder as he tapped the name
into the search box. A single result flashed up.
    “A bit of luck
at long last, eh?” Michael said. He hit the print screen button and printed out
a copy from the old laserjet at the end of the aisle.
    “Where is this
place?”
    “Madley road.
You familiar with it?”
    Richard glanced
at his watch and frowned. “Don't think so. I hope the traffic is better now.
Maybe we can get lunch from the place.”
    They went back
downstairs. The receptionist gave them both a venomous look as they passed by.
Michael felt his muscles tensing.  He pushed through the inner set of security
doors, hoping the contractors wouldn't see him. They did, and a barely audible
insult followed them.

Chapter 5.
     
    Richard parked
across the road from the bakery. There was an unfinished hole in the plate
above, and Michael could see bleak, grey skies above them. The clouds drifted
by as though the world was on fast-forward.
    “I want to take
the lead on this one; I'm feeling like a third wheel, and I want to get some
action,” Richard said.
    “You know what
we need out of them?”
    “Of course.”
    The shop was
called Johnson's Family Bakers, announced in blue letters above the entrance.
They stepped inside, found the floor clean and the walls free of mould. The air
was warm, and an aroma of freshly cooked bread hung in the air. Several shelves
carried a sparse selection of bread, wrapped sandwiches, cakes and fruit drinks
labelled with felt pens and white stickers.
    Two teenage
girls in hair nets and aprons stood behind the counter and tills. They had a
wide-eyed innocence about them, and Michael noted the family resemblance.
    “Can I help
you?” the one on the right said. Her younger sister went into the back room.
    Michael plucked
a tuna mayonnaise sandwich from the shelf, and Richard help up his identity
card for the girl to see. She swallowed the lump in her throat and glanced over
her shoulder. No response came.
    He placed the
tuna sandwich on the counter.
    “We're
detectives from Richmond station,” Richard said.
    Her face somehow
managed to turn paler. She looked again for her sister. “I'm really sorry, sir.
We normally keep a small collection for people such as yourselves, but another
police unit took it all on Monday, and it's hard enough staying in business as
it is. Would you accept free food instead? Please? My father works very hard.”
    Michael exchanged
a glance with Richard. He heard the approach of footsteps, and the girl's
sister returned with their father, a tall man with grey hair and a narrow face.
    “I told them
what you said, Dad,” she said. Her father put a protective hand on her
shoulder.
    “I'm sorry
you're getting turned over by a police unit. We can look into it if you give us
further details, but as it happens, my colleague and I were hoping you might be
able to assist us with another matter,” Richard said.
    The baker
narrowed his eyes. “That depends with what you're after. I make a point of not
getting involved in other people's business. We keep our heads down; it's safer
that way.”
    “Just a few
questions, that's all. Do you get many customers here?”
    Michael glanced
up at the bulbous camera watching them from the corner of the ceiling. “Would
you mind,” he said to the elder girl,” if took a look out the back there?”
    She glanced at
her father, who nodded slowly.
    “This way,” the
girl said.
    Michael followed
after her. He heard Richard resume his questioning, sometimes punctuated by a
brief word from the baker, but never much more than a yes or a no. They passed
a stack of blue bread trays stacked on top of each other, as well as the ovens
and two counters for preparing food. A whiff of cleaning