Q Is for Quarry

department and get the car impounded."
    He crossed to the single door and tested it again. Satisfied that it was frozen shut, he said, "Wait here. I'll be back in a minute." I stood just outside, staring at the untilled pasture with its tangle of wildflowers while Dolan headed off toward his car. I noticed he steered a wide path around the backside of the garage, where I assumed McPhee was still sitting. I couldn't see the old man, but the occasional drift of frenetic music suggested he'd remained in his wooden chair, watching TV. I returned to the Mustang and circled it, hands behind my back, peering in the windows with their cracked and broken glass. The black leather seats, while gray with dust, seemed to be in good shape.
    Dolan returned six minutes later carrying a Polaroid camera, his pant legs covered with burrs. He handed me the camera while he took out a pen and a packet of seals he'd retrieved from his car. He jotted his initials, the date, and the time on four seals and affixed one across each of the two doors, one to the hood, and the remaining seal across the trunk opening. Then he clicked off a series of Polaroid shots while he circled the car. As each photograph emerged from the slot, Dolan handed it to me. I waited for the image to appear and then wrote a title across the bottom. Dolan added his name, the date, and the time, and tucked them in an envelope he placed in his jacket pocket.
    I said, "Does McPhee know we're doing this?"
    "Not yet."
    "What now?"
    "I'll go back to the motel and call Detective Lassiter. He can send out a deputy to secure the car until a tow truck arrives. I'll also put in a request to the Santa Teresa Sheriffs Department to send down a flatbed as soon as possible. They can load the car at the local impound lot and tow it back."
    "How long will that take?"
    Dolan checked his watch. "It's ten thirty now. They should be able to get someone here by six tonight. Meantime, I'll call Judge Ruiz in Santa Teresa and ask him to issue a telephonic warrant. We'll return the affidavit with the Mustang and have Stacey file the paperwork up there. I'll be back within the hour."

Chapter 14
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    I hadn't sat surveillance for ages and I'd forgotten how long an hour could feel. At least the car wasn't going to move. I took off my watch and slipped it in my pocket so I wouldn't be tempted to keep peeking at the time. I settled in the shade, leaning against the garage while I added a few notes to my index cards and then slipped the paperback from my shoulder bag and found my place.
    Half a chapter later, I heard a car door slam, and when I peered around the comer, I saw Cornell getting out of a white truck. He was crossing the parking pad, heading for his parents' back door, possibly to have lunch. I was starving and had to take my nourishment in the from of an ancient Junior Mint I'd tossed in the bottom of my shoulder bag. I figured the fuzz on it would supply my quota of fiber.
    The day had warmed up considerably and the air smelled of wildflowers and weeds. An occasional bumblebee lumbered by, a black-and-yellow gumball in flight. A swarm of gnats danced in the light and a horsefly zipped around, looking for a place to land. This was entirely too much wildlife for my purposes. I'm an indoor kind of person, and I prefer my contact with Nature reduced to the front of a picture postcard.
    I heard someone trampling through the grass. I got to my feet, dusted off my jeans, and tucked the book back in my bag. I was expecting to see Dolan. Instead, Cornell appeared, smoking a cigarette he'd cupped in the palm of his hand. He didn't seem all that happy to see me. His gaze shifted to the open garage door, where the Mustang sat in plain view, its tarp removed, a seal affixed across the opening of the hood.
    I said, "Hi. I'm Kinsey. We met this morning." I flicked a look toward the driveway, hoping to see the deputy arriving, but no such luck.
    "I know who you are. What's all this?"
    "A sheriffs deputy should be here shortly. Lieutenant Dolan thinks this might be the vehicle used to transport our victim. He wants to have it checked."
    "What's that mean?"
    I put a casual shrug in my voice. "It's no big deal. He wants the evidence technicians to go over it."
    "And Dad knows about this?"
    "I'm assuming so," I said, lying through my teeth. "I'm not sure what the lieutenant told him. You'd have to ask him."
    Cornell frowned. He dropped his cigarette and stepped on it. "How long's this going to