'I suppose you won't be wanting me,' McAvoy said.
'What do you think?' She climbed out of the car and walked over to the office.
A young man of no more than twenty, dressed in a cheap suit and tie, was tapping on a grubby computer keyboard behind the counter. The air was heavy with the smell of ageing lino and fumes from an elderly gas heater.
Jenny showed him her card and politely explained the nature of her inquiry. He wasn't the quickest, and she doubted he'd ever heard of a coroner, but he was eager to help.
'I've only been here since Christmas,' he said, 'so I don't remember that particular car. I could call the boss on his mobile.'
Jenny said, 'Don't you have the records here?'
'Not the paper ones. The boss takes them home with him.'
'What about your computer - you log everything on there, right?'
'Yeah . . .'
'Let's have a look, shall we?' She smiled in a way that she hoped might encourage him to cooperate. He started to hit the filthy keys. A column of data appeared on the screen of the old-fashioned monitor.
'OK . . . here's the Toyota. We got rid of it in '05.' Jenny turned and glanced apprehensively out of the window. McAvoy was no longer in the passenger seat. Feeling a stab of alarm, she glanced left and right, then saw him strolling towards the carpenters' brazier, raising a hand in greeting to the two men still standing there.
'It's June '02 you're after, isn't it?'
'That's right.' She turned back to the young man, who was dragging his finger down the screen making a line in the dust. 'It was out from the 20th to the 23rd, and didn't go out again until 6 July.'
'You're sure?'
'That's what it says. Look . . .' He swivelled the screen towards her.
He was right. There was no record of the car being hired on that date.
'Oh well,' she said, disappointed. 'Thanks for trying. Maybe you can give me your boss's number anyway.'
McAvoy was strolling back towards her as she stepped out of the office. It was only three p.m. and already the light was fading. Sparks jumped out of the oil drum and carried past him on the sharp breeze.
'All right?' he said, suppressing a smile.
Jenny headed for the car. 'It wasn't hired out on those dates. We checked the computer records.'
'D'you ask him if they do deals for cash?'
'He's just a kid. I've got the boss's number.' She climbed into the driver's seat.
McAvoy caught hold of the door as she went to close it. 'If you were going to hire a car to snatch someone, would you want to leave a paper trail? Look at this place. A few hundred quid in notes - are you telling me they'd say no?'
'I'll speak to the owner. Can you let go? I'm getting cold.'
He jammed his knee against the door, wedging it open. 'And say what - do you remember a cash job eight years ago?'
'What do you suggest?'
'That you try a bit harder, Mrs Cooper. Jesus.'
Exasperated, Jenny said, 'I think we've had this conversation already.'
'Listen - those boys over there are Latvians. They've seen a guy with a ponytail come to rent a car once or twice. Mid- forties or thereabouts. Comes over in an old Mark i Land Rover and has it seen to in that garage. Had an aluminium hard top made for it last autumn - one of the Lats is an arc welder by trade, helped the mechanic get it done.'
Jenny sighed. 'Do they know the man's name?'
'Not a clue.' McAvoy gave an innocent smile. 'All I'm suggesting is a polite inquiry.'
'Fine. But I'll be the one making it.' She climbed out of the car. 'Don't you dare follow me.'
She returned to the office to find the young man coming off a call. He looked surprised and slightly disconcerted by her reappearance.
Jenny said, 'Help me out here - you have a customer, a man in his forties with a ponytail. Drives an old Land Rover. Do you know who I mean?'
He shook his head. 'No . . .'
She came up close to the counter, giving him the smile. 'This is just between you and me, all right - do some customers pay in cash to hire a vehicle, no records, no paperwork?'
'Not from me,' he said with a shrug. 'Can't speak for the boss.'
She tried again, 'I really need to know about this man with the ponytail. Are you certain you haven't seen him?'
'I've only been working here six weeks.'
'I'll believe you,' Jenny said. 'You'd better give me the boss's address.'
McAvoy was sitting on the bonnet, blowing into his hands and looking across the yard through the open front of the mechanic's workshop.
Jenny said, 'He's new here. I'll have to talk to the owner.'
McAvoy said, 'Why don't you try over there? That guy'll know him - spent a week working on his vehicle. Makes more sense than approaching a man you're asking to incriminate himself.'
She glanced over at the garage. The mechanic, a big man with heavily muscled arms, was working on the exhaust of a vehicle sitting up on an overhead ramp. 'Stay here.'
She stepped between puddles on the rough gravel, water seeping through the soles of her shoes. She made it to the concrete forecourt and approached the doorway. She'd never been sure of the etiquette in these places - should she wait for him to come to her or call out?
She knew from the glance he'd cast as she headed over that he'd seen her, but he let her stand there getting colder while he continued to wind off another bolt.
'Hello,' she called out, competing with a radio that was pumping out non-stop nineties techno.
Only when he was good and ready did he turn slightly and look her over. 'What can I do for you?'
'My name's Jenny Cooper. I'm the Severn Vale District Coroner. I'm trying to locate one of your customers. Have you got a moment?'
The mechanic slotted the spanner into a long pocket on the leg of his overalls and ducked out from under the ramp, wiping oil-stained hands on the backs of his thighs. He was tall, six-three at least, and broad as a bull across the shoulders.
Jenny told him politely about the man with the ponytail who owned a Mark i Land Rover.
The mechanic's eyes flicked towards the carpentry shop as he worked out who had sent her here.
'I would appreciate your assistance. He could be an important witness.'
He slowly shook his massive head. 'Don't know who you mean.'
'You made something for him last autumn ... a cover . . .' Jenny said, out of her depth talking to mechanics. 'One of the Latvian guys over there helped you.'
'Not me,' he said, and turned back towards the ramp.
Jenny said, 'Excuse me. I'm not sure you realize how serious this is. I could call you as a witness.'
'Go ahead.' He fetched out his spanner and went back to work.
'Then you can expect a summons. I'll see you in court on Monday morning,' she threatened feebly and to no effect.
'Hey, big fella.' She turned to see McAvoy coming across the gravel at a jog. 'You ought to know who it is you're protecting.'
Jenny gave him a look that pleaded for him to stay away.
He held up his hands, 'Relax.' He called out to the mechanic, 'This ponytail guy's a nonce. Likes to spray paint on little kiddies.'
The big man turned round.
'That's right. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want to have people like that known to be my friends. The way people talk—'
Jenny said, 'Please, Alec, for Christ's sake.'
Ignoring her, McAvoy stepped over to the ramp and pressed the button that released the hydraulics. The mechanic darted out from underneath as it started down, the spanner in his hand, 'The fuck are you doing?'
'Getting your attention.' McAvoy took a step forward. 'Forget about a pick-up truck - hell will rain down on you, my friend, if you don't try to be a little more helpful. . .'
The mechanic tightened his grip on the spanner. Jenny watched, open-mouthed. The muscles in her throat contracted in panic.