vs suv

Wow," Butters said, fiddling with the control panel on the SUV. "This thing has everything. Satellite radio stations. And I bet I could put my whole CD collection inside the changer on this player. And, oh, cool, check it out. It's got an onboard GPS, too, so we can't get lost." Butters pushed a button on the control panel.
A calm voice emerged from the dashboard. "Now entering Helsinki."
I arched an eyebrow at the dashboard and then at Butters. "Maybe the car is lost."
"Maybe you're interfering with its computer, too," Butters said.
"You think?"
He smiled tightly, checking his seat belt for the tenth time. "Just so we're clear, I have no problems with hiding, Harry. I mean, if you're worried about my ego or something, don't. I'm fine with the hiding. Happy, even."
I pulled off the highway. The green lawns and tended trees of the industrial park hosting the Forensic Institute appeared as the SUV rolled up the ramp. "Try to relax, Butters."
He jerked his head in a nervous, negative shake. "I don't want to get killed. Or arrested. I'm really bad at being arrested. Or killed."
"It's a calculated risk," I said. "We need to find out what Grevane wanted with you."
"And we're taking me to work... why?"
"Think about it. What would have happened if they'd found you missing, blood all over the place, the building ransacked, and Phil's corpse lying in the morgue or on the lawn outside?"
"Someone would have gotten fired," Butters said.
"Yeah. And they would have locked down the building to search for evidence. And they would have grabbed you and locked you away somewhere, for questioning at least."
"So?" Butters asked.
"If Grevane cleaned up what happened at the morgue, it means he didn't want too much official attention focused there. Whatever he wants from you, I'm betting it's still in the building." I pulled into the industrial park. "We have to find it."
"Eduardo Mendoza?" he asked me.
"Offhand, I can't think of any other reason for someone to want to grab your friendly neighborhood assistant medical examiner," I said. "Grevane's got to be interested in a corpse at the morgue, and that one was the only one that seemed a little odd."
"Harry," Butters said, "if this guy really is a necromancer-a wizard of the dead-then why the hell would he need a plain old vanilla science nerd like me?"
"That's the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question," I said. "And we have another reason, too."
"The museum doctor guy, right?" Butters asked.
I nodded at him and parked in the lot next to Butters's ruined little truck. "Right. I need to know what killed him. Hell, any information could be useful."
Butters exhaled. "Well. I don't know what I'll be able to manage."
"Anything is more than I have now."
He looked around warily. "Do you think... do you think Grevane or his buddy is out there right now? Watching for... you know... me?"
I pulled open my coat and showed Butters my shoulder holster and gun. Then I reached behind me and drew out my staff from the back of the SUV "If they show up, I'm going to ruin their whole day."
He chewed on his lip. "You can do that, right?"
I took a look around and said, "Butters, trust me. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's ruining people's day."
He let out a nervous little laugh. "You can say that again."
"If there's one thing I'm good at-" I began. Butters punched me lightly on the arm, and I smiled at him. "We'll get in and out as quick as we can, get you back under cover. I think we've got it under control."
I killed the SUV's ignition and pulled out the key. The truck shuddered, and a warbling, wailing sound came from the dashboard. For a second I expected someone to shout, "Red alert, all hands to battle stations!" Instead there was a hiccup of sound from the truck, and then a smooth, recorded voice reported, "Warning. The door is ajar. The door is ajar."
I blinked at the dashboard. It repeated the warning several more times, getting a little slower and lower pitched each time, then droned into a basso rumble, followed by silence.
"That was not an omen," I said firmly.
"Right," Butters replied in a faint voice. "Because stuff is always messing up around you."


Dead Beat Chapter 14, Page 125-126