I shifted to the side, changing the angle of view, and saw a dark figure lying near the car. As I got a little closer, I saw the girl. I watched her for five long minutes, but she didn't move.
Clutching my ax tighter and bracing myself for anything, I walked over to the driver's door.
The girl lay with her eyes closed, her head thrown back. Her mouth was open, and everything below her nose was covered with half-dried blood. Pieces of her crown hung from her head, entangled in her hair, and I easily assumed that she had shot herself.
I was not afraid of the sight of blood, and I have never been particularly squeamish. The picture was just bad. I looked into the cabin and made sure that there was no one else there, after which I pulled the driver's door, and it succumbed easily.
Leather beige interior greeted with a pleasant smell of car air freshener. A beige clutch lay forlornly in the driver's seat. I checked its contents, but finding nothing of interest, I tossed it aside and climbed into a dry chair, quietly closing the door behind me.
The sound of rain subsided, replaced by the sound of raindrops on the bulky body of the SUV. The key was in the ignition and it had already been turned one click. In addition, the headlights were also turned on, and this indicated that the battery would almost certainly be discharged. I verified this by turning the ignition key.
Jumping over the seats, I looked into the trunk – it was empty, but I remembered the second roof rack and began to get out into the street. Suddenly it dawned on me: “If the owner of the car shot herself, then what did she shoot from?”
Falling out into the street through the back door and climbing onto the roof, I easily opened the black autobox.
"Jackpot!" I exclaimed quietly when I saw its contents. There was a real set of a traveler fisherman: an easel backpack equipped with a tent and a fifteen-liter canister, a large hiking bag, a car first-aid kit, a fire extinguisher, large rubber boots, two spinning rods, a bowler hat, a tripod and a bunch of other small camping accessories.
Okay, now the girl's corpse. Having closed the autobox and descended from the roof, I began to examine the corpse, but, unfortunately, even turning it over, I did not find the suicide weapon. Well, then, only the contents of the autobox will become my prey, but how to take away all this goodness? Only with the car! How do you start a car with a dead battery? Another battery! I approached the second car in the parking lot. The alarm lamp did not blink – this is a bad sign. Most likely the battery is dead. I tried the driver's door, but it was locked. Looking around like a thief, I hit the driver's window with the tip of a fire ax, causing it to crumble into small pieces. Turning on the emergency gang through the broken window, I looked at the front of the car. The battery, as in the first case, was dead.