среда, 30 сентября 2015 г.

Ian Rankin. Saints... Day One.

A flatbed lorry had arrived, the name of a local scrap yard stenciled
(to draw or paint something using a stencil. Stencil is a piece of card or plastic used to draw or paint patterns onto a surface) on its doors.

The previous night, a flimsy (very thin or easily broken or destroyed) cordon had been erected, consisting of three-inch-wide tape with the word POLICE on it.

The driver of the flatbed had sliced through (to move through) it and was preparing to winch (a machine that lifts heavy objects by turning a chain or rope around a tube-shaped devise) the crashed VW Golf up the slope towards the waiting ramp.

A stretch of narrow country road on the outskirts of Kirkliston (is a village within the jurisdiction of the City of Edinburgh and lies ten miles from the city centre on former A9 road).

A stretch of narrow country road on the outskirts of Kirkliston (is a village within the jurisdiction of the City of Edinburgh and lies ten miles from the city centre on former A9 road).

They had come in Clarke's Vauxhall Astra (Opel Astra). It was parked on the opposite verge (the edge or border of something), flashes blinking in a warning to approaching drivers.

  'It's a straight road,' Clarke was saying. 'Surface wasn't icy or greasy. Must have been going at a fair clip (very fast), judging by the damage…'

True enough: the front of the Golf had become concertinaed (a musical instrument with a folding middle part) on impact with the venerable (deserving respect because of age) oak tree.

The driver from the flatbed jutted (to stick out, especially above or past the edge or surface of something) out his chin in greeting but otherwise wasn't about to ask who they were or why they were there.



Clarke carried a folder (a piece of plastic or cardboard folded down the middle and used for keeping loose papers in), which was good enough for him - meant they were official , and therefore probably best avoided.

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