The Tree of Death

Начало книги

I stared in disbelief at the ticket under the wiper of my VW Rabbit, then snatched it up. Code 27368. What the devil was 27368? I turned the ticket over and scanned the list of things deemed offensive to the city of Santa Barbara. Failure to register vehicle.

“Maldito!” I hurried around the back of the little yellow car and looked at the license plate. Sure enough, the sticker showed re-registration had been due in April. Today was May second.

I glared at the plate, then tore the ticket into two pieces and dropped them on the ground. Normally I’m a very law-abiding person, but this was too much.

“They could give you a few days’ grace,” I muttered as I walked toward the museum. It was, of course, because of the museum that I’d forgotten to send in my registration fee. The form was sitting on my desk at home, but what with moving and unpacking the exhibits, the upcoming press preview and the opening, I hadn’t been home long enough to write the check.

Читать дальше →