He got out from behind the steering-wheel and stood by the car, looking at the door. I said, “If you’ll get away from that car door so I can get in, I’ll drive out.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, but didn’t move.
A car, travelling at high speed, skidded into the entrance. I saw a look of relief on the attendant’s face. He said, “Okay,” and moved to one side.
The car came in the door, ran back the length of the garage, blocking the way out. I saw it was a police car. The door opened and John Harbet got out and came pounding over towards the car in a businesslike way. The attendant said, “I’ll get you a receipt,” and started to walk away.
Harbet came over to me and said, “So you have to stick your nose into this, eh?”
I said to the attendant, “You stick around. I’m going to want a witness to this.”
The attendant said, “I’m sorry. I can’t leave the front of the place — the cash register and everything.”
He walked away from us and didn’t look back.
Harbet walked over towards me, and I stepped back into a corner behind the car. “You asked for this,” he said.
I slid my right hand towards the left lapel of my coat.