Confess, Fletch Page 22
“Almost immediately.”
“What a pity. That very afternoon? Is that why you rented the car?”
“I didn’t want to have to drive a truck around town.”
“Gracious, yes, indeed. I was forgetting about the man’s style.”
“It was stolen a day or two later. I had parked it on the street.”
“Terrible lot of crime around these days, isn’t there? The police should do something.” Flynn pulled a slip of paper from one of his pockets. “Ah, here’s the little darling. A light blue Chevrolet van truck, last year’s model, licence number 671-773. Is that it?”
“That’s it.”
“Just the right size truck, I’d say, for transportin’ paintings and a sculptured horse.”
Fletch said, “Skis, too.”
Flynn said, “Do you suppose Horan stole it himself, for the purpose of stealing the de Grassi paintings away from himself?”
“Anything’s possible, Inspector. He may have committed that crime, too, and blocked it out.”
“Highly unlikely, I’d say.”
Flynn opened the door.
“Well, I’ll put out an all-points bulletin on this truck immediately. Light blue Chevrolet caravan truck, last year’s model, licence number 671-773. Seeing you’re a friend, been such a help on the terribly difficult case, I’ll put the screws to the boyos statewide. There’s no chance this truck won’t be picked up in a matter of hours.”
“Very good of you, Inspector.”
“Tut. Think nothing of it. Anything for a friend.”
Fletch closed the front door, diminishing the sound of the descending elevator.
His watch said fifteen minutes to twelve. Tuesday.
He was almost perfectly a week late.
In the den, he picked up the phone and dialled a number he had looked up and memorized in the airport the previous Tuesday.
While he was waiting for the number to answer, he pushed the drape aside with his hand and looked down into the street.
Menti was just climbing down from the back of the truck.
He had been looking at the paintings!
“Hurry up, Menti,” Fletch said to the windowpane. “For Pete’s sake!”
“Hello? 555-2301.”
Menti was unlocking the driver’s side door of the truck.
“Hello?” the voice said.
“Hello,” said Fletch.
He craned his neck. He could see the top of Flynn’s head as he walked out of the apartment building.
Menti was in the truck.
“Yes, hello?” the voice said.
“I’m sorry,” said Fletch. “Is this the Tharp Family Foundation?”
Flynn was getting into the passenger seat of a black Ford.
“Yes, sir.”
Exhaust was coming from the tailpipes of both the police car and the truck.
“May I speak with your director, please?”
“Who shall I say is calling, please?”
The double-parked police car began to move forward.
Without looking, Menti darted out of his parking space with the bounce and jerk people make when unaccustomed to driving a vehicle.
The police car braked hard, making the front end of its chassis bob towards the road surface.
“Sir? Who shall I say is calling?”
Apparently, the driver of the police car waved ahead the black Chevrolet van truck, last year’s model, licence number R99420.
The two vehicles proceeded up the street, the black police car behind the black, jerking truck.
Fletch released the window drape.
“I’m sorry. This is Peter Fletcher….”
FIRST VINTAGE CRIME/BLACK LIZARD EDITION, MARCH 2002
Copyright © 1976 by Gregory Mcdonald
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Vintage Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. Originally published in the United States by Avon Books, New York, in 1976.
Vintage is a registered trademark and Vintage Crime/Black Lizard
and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Mcdonald, Gregory,
Confess, Fletch / Gregory Mcdonald.
New York: Vintage Books, 2002.
p. cm.
1. Fletch (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Private investigators—
Massachusetts—Boston—Fiction. 3. Art thefts—Fiction.
4. Boston (Mass.)—Fiction.
PS3563.A278
www.vintagebooks.com
eISBN: 978-0-307-51811-8
v3.0