One Hit Wonder Page 7

  I pointed to the groceries. “Crenshaw asked us to deliver groceries.”

  He pointed to the door. “You’ve done that. Now get out.”

  Becca sighed and asked him, “Did you find anything?”

  He shook his head. “His office looks intact, and I couldn’t get into the computer with any of the passwords you provided.”

  Becca said to me. “We thought maybe Dad’s office was broken into, and that’s how his identity might have been stolen. It’s not like the barn has a secure front door.”

  Precious asked, “Your dad’s office was in the barn?”

  Becca nodded. “In a small room in the barn so not, like, out in the open.”

  Kevin continued to glare at me.

  His angry-man-attitude was getting on my nerves. “What?” I said. “If someone told you they’d seen me fighting with Ms. Trina, would you have acted any different?”

  “Kevin’s used to being blamed for everything,” Becca said.

  I said to Kevin, “If it means anything, Bob thinks you’re the smartest, bestest mechanic and restorer to ever grace his shop.”

  Precious said sotto voce, “He didn’t use the word bestest, but he implied it.”

  Kevin ducked his head, running a hand over his face.

  Becca said, “Kevin is the bestest. He’s opened his own shop and has a wait-list of cars he’s slotted to restore.”

  “Becs,” Kevin said. “Remember we were keeping this quiet. We don’t want my family to know.”

  “Our lips are sealed.” Precious pretended to button her lips and mine.

  At this rate, I was going to need superglue to keep my yap shut from spilling all the secrets I knew.

  I gestured between the two of them, then pointed to Kevin. “Is that why you weren’t with Becca on the ICU floor? You’re hiding this from your family, too?”

  Becca confirmed my guess with a nod.

  “And you have your own shop?” I asked Kevin.

  He crossed his arms. “Restoring classic and exotic cars.”

  I picked my next words carefully. Kevin was opening up, and I didn’t want him to shut down again. “What do you think about your brother’s car being stolen? Am I wrong to be surprised by this? Is it as common as others are telling me?”

  Kevin shrugged. “Depends on the car. Junior’s Saleen would be a hot item. And the tow truck driver he used has a shady reputation. Junior knows that. It makes me wonder if he picked him on purpose.”

  I said, “I do know Crenshaw was out of town. Maybe he didn’t have a choice. “

  Kevin snorted with disgust. “There is always a choice.” He rubbed his fingers together in the sign for money. “My brother is a cheap bastard. That might have been the reason, too.”

  I wasn’t sold. “I was there after he hit the deer. Junior was rattled. I’d buy him not thinking through the options.”

  Kevin rolled his eyes. “Junior always gets the benefit of the doubt, whereas I—”

  Frustrated, I blurted out, “Don’t help your cause. All we hear is about what your dad and brother tell us. You aren’t out there fighting back.” My points had merit.

  Kevin wasn’t having it. He gave a sharp, bitter laugh. “Because I have better things to do than worry about those two and their smoke and mirrors game. The further detached from them I am, the better off I’ll be.”

  Becca said, “That’s what he and my mom were fighting about Friday. She told him to stay away from me.” She looked at Kevin and smiled sadly. “Us dating didn’t bother her before. But I guess she thought we were getting more serious, so she forbade me to continue seeing him. She never gave me a reason.”

  Precious snorted. “As if that has ever worked on a kid anywhere.”

  Becca continued, “She threatened to throw me out, but she was bluffing. She can’t afford to. I help with my sister, and Mom likes having me here. I told Kevin she was having a bad day and to let it cool off before he said anything to her.” She directed her next remark at Kevin. “But sometimes his temper gets the best of him and he can’t shut his mouth.”

  I said, “Bad day meaning just one of those days, or did something specific happen?”

  “A few weeks ago, my Dad’s company called, I answered, and they asked to speak to him. I lost it. I told them he was dead, and if their call was a prank, it was a cruel one. I accused them of making a sick joke and hung up on them. The next time they called, they got mom. The Friday the robbery happened at Junkie’s, we found out Dad’s company planned to hold us liable. Mom lost her mind.”

  Precious asked, “Liable for what?”

  Becca shrugged. “Apparently, whoever stole his identity was collecting his paychecks, too. Dad’s company opened an investigation.” She pointed to the door. “That guy that was here is the one doing the investigating.”

  I said, “When they find the person who stole it, then they’ll press charges and this drama can move on.”

  Becca burst into tears. Kevin rushed to her and wrapped her in a hug. Becca regained composure long enough to say, “Yeah, except they think my mom is the one who stole his identity.”

  Chapter Ten

  After Becca’s, Precious and I went back to my place. I scanned her Bigfoot photo into my computer, not because I wanted a possible Bigfoot image, but because I wanted a closer look.

  Something about the hair on the legs bothered me. I was staring at the photo when Precious’s phone rang.

  Precious, having kicked off her shoes, was stretched out on my couch. She said, “Good, it’s the service department.”

  The conversation had my full attention when she addressed Junior.

  She rolled her eyes at me. “Yes, I understand. I need a new radiator, and my car will be ready in four days.” She sighed. “Any chance you could speed that up?” Following a long pause, she then said, “Would it go faster if I bought a manufacturer’s part?” She gave me a thumbs up. I guess she asked the question because of what we learned from Bob.

  She gave me a look of disgust and pointed to the phone. “Well, if that’s how it is.” She sighed in defeat and hung up.

  “What did he say?” I asked.

  “That my car was a piece of crap.”

  “What?” I exclaimed. “Seriously?”

  She flipped her hand in the air. “In a roundabout way, he said it. When I asked if putting a manufacturer’s part in my car would speed up the repair time, he actually laughed. Oh, he tried to cover it with a fake cough, but said that wouldn’t be a good use of my money given the age of my car.” She tossed her phone onto the couch. “Besides, he said something about the recent factory fire and assured me using a generic part would be faster and cheaper.”

  Because this was the second time the factory fire had been mentioned, I pulled the story up on the internet and scanned the article. I couldn’t afford to spend energy on every word, so I looked for what I called speed bump words. Those were the essential words, not the filler words like the and if. In this case, the speed bump words were about the parts and the make and model of the cars involved.

  I said, “Happened a week ago. The plant that burned down made a variety of parts including radiators for Mustangs, Taurus, Focus, and Fusions.” I tapped a pencil against my lip. “You need a radiator. Junior needed a radiator after he hit the deer. Which means no OEM for his high-end car.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe I should visualize mine getting stolen. It would be quicker to get a new car than wait for a repair.”

  I continued to tap. “No kidding. Especially when his dad owns the lot where he likes to shop. We should all be so lucky.”

  Precious stretched out on my couch. “Convenient. Though what a hassle. To deal with a stolen car would be huge. I’m sure the insurance company would be difficult.”

  None of the puzzle pieces were clicking together. “Your car is a straight-up repair. No insurance to bill. But had you had an accident, say…hit a deer, and you had a higher-end car, then Greevey’s would be billing your insurance.”
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  “And if my car were high-end, then I’d want OEMs, which cost more.” After a pause Precious added, “And that raises my insurance premiums.”

  “But for Junior, that’s not such a big deal because his shop does the repair, and I’m sure the markup is larger so Junior pockets that,” I said.

  Precious hummed in disagreement. “But one-time pocketing the extra from insurance isn’t going to offset the monthly increase in the premiums.”

  “True, and you need permission from your insurance company to go with the higher-end parts. Bart Holland was the guy who approved OEMs, if I understand Becca correctly.”

  Precious said, “And Bart is dead, but someone is using his identity.”

  “Someone who is possibly making a lot of money if they are pocketing the difference.” But even as I said it, I didn’t buy it. Even if Junior was pocketing the difference, I doubted the amount was significant and too many other elements were out of Junior’s control. Such as, who came into his shop and what insurance they carried.

  “None of this makes sense,” I said in frustration.

  Precious sat up and slapped herself in the forehead. “I left all my notes for my midterm paper in my trunk.”

  “Good, we’ll drive out to Greevey’s, and maybe I’ll get a chance to ask Junior about OEMs.”

  Before we headed out, I told Dad about what we learned. I also mentioned the pictures of each scene were currently up on my computer.

  We drove the fifteen minutes to Greevey’s in silence. Precious, ready for all this drama to be over, was in full visualization mode which, from the outside, looked like meditation and deep breathing.

  It was as if the universe knew we were dense and required obvious signs because when we arrived, a customer was in the Parts and Services lobby screaming his head off at Junior. The customer was a meticulously dressed businessman with dark slicked-back hair and nails that shone as they caught the sunlight when he waved them furiously in Junior’s face. Mr. Fastidious was practically foaming at the mouth from his anger.

  “You said this would be done in a week, and now we’re at the end of week three.” Mr. Fastidious’s index finger was half an inch from Junior’s nose.

  “There was a fire at the plant. The part was delayed, but one arrived Friday, and we’re getting it prepped for your car.”

  “I’ve a good mind to yank my car and take it elsewhere. If my car isn’t ready by Monday, I’ll sue you. I’m sure I can find something negligent or illegal here.” Mr. Fastidious gave a smile so wicked I was scared. He continued. “You’ve already given me plenty to use against you in court.”

  Junior stuck his hands in his pockets, an easy smile on his face. He looked chagrined. “Mistakes happen. We’re rectifying it as best we can with the limitations we have.”

  This was the Junior I knew. Mr. Class President who got us a baked potato bar at the high school and cushioned chairs at study hall. He appeared sincere, his vibe trustworthy.

  Mr. Fastidious’ eyes narrowed. “Monday. No later.”

  Junior nodded. “Of course. That’s what I said earlier. I appreciate your patience.”

  Mr. Fastidious stomped away, bumping Junior with his shoulder as he passed.

  I followed him and, outside, I caught up with him. “Excuse me, sir. Do you have a moment?”

  He spun toward me, his anger still in full flare. “What?”

  “I…ah…um…” A ruse eluded me.

  “You gonna spit it out or what? I don’t have all day.”

  I went with the first thing to come to mind. “I saw what happened back there.” I pointed to the parts office. “And my friend’s car was towed here today, but now I’m worried she won’t get quality service.”

  He scanned me up and down, his lower lip curled up. “I doubt you have much to worry about. I’m guessing your friend’s car can be fixed with an old, used part. But I have a Shelby GT 500 with the Super Snake package. It’s high-end.”

  He clearly thought I was dumb. I might not know what the Super Snake package was, and I didn’t care. But it suited this guy, who was probably a super snake himself. “I’m guessing you want brand parts.”

  He huffed. “Nothing but the best. And that jackass in there pawns off generic parts.”

  I gasped in horror, which Mr. Fastidious seemed to appreciate. “How did you know?” Two pieces of the puzzle clicked together.

  “I check up on this schmuck all the time. Came by one day last week and, sure as shit, the parts box was out by the car. Can you imagine?”

  My eyes widened. “Lucky you came by.”

  He pointed his finger at me with a renewed sense of anger. “You’re damn right, it is. The dumb broad who hit me, I had to fight her insurance company. They didn’t want to pay. To go through all that and find this jackass not putting the brand part on was infuriating.”

  “I’m sure it was. But you have that guy nervous now.” I pointed to Junior’s office. “I think he’ll do it right this time.”

  Mr. Fastidious snorted with derision. “All you ladies are gullible. That swindler will steal the coins from the bottom of your purse if he could. They all would.” He glared back once for good measure then stormed off.

  More pieces clicked together. I called Crenshaw and asked if he had a Shelby in his junkyard.

  Precious came up behind me a few moments later. She had two notepads tucked in the crook of one arm. “I invited Junior to Junkie’s on Friday.”

  “How did he respond?” I looked toward the parts department, seeking a visual on Junior, but he was nowhere to be found.

  She shrugged nonchalantly. “At first he came up with a lame excuse.”

  That surprised me. If I was wrong, then he should have no reason to avoid Junkie’s. If I was right, then my criminology class taught me it was not unusual for a criminal to revisit the scene of the crime.

  I filled Precious in, connecting the dots with the information Mr. Fastidious had given me. We stared at each other, neither saying anything, she likely horrified by her thoughts like I was mine.

  She said, “Do you think Junior did this to Ms. Trina because he’s the one using Bart’s ID?”

  I shrugged, uncertain if we were making up farfetched ideas or on to something. “What if Ms. Trina found out about it and confronted him at the bar. He comes back after it’s closed and…”

  Precious made like she was dry-heaving.

  “What?” I asked and steered her behind LC, away from where Junior might see.

  She clapped her hands to her cheeks. “Junior insinuated that he wanted to get to know me better, and I flirted back. Ohmygawd. I flirted with a crazy person.”

  “I’m sure he won’t be the last and, besides, we don’t know if he’s behind this. I’m only guessing. Speculating. Did you remind him the theme was seventies night again?”

  She nodded.

  I pulled my cell phone from my bag and called my dad. Precious and I were out of our element. We weren’t cops. We weren’t private investigators, and studying for the test didn’t make me skilled. I took crime scene photos one time (two if you count the different scenes), so I was no expert. And Precious had quit her social worker courses to hone her life-coaching skills. Her goal? To help others get out of their head, visualize their success, and learn how to find strength in themselves for success. If Junior was our bad guy, he probably didn’t need a life coach. After I filled Dad in on everything, he told me he would talk to Chief Louney.

  I hung up, and we stared at each other in silence.

  I said, “I don’t think I can simply standby and wait.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  I gave a casual shrug. “I think we chat him up Friday and see if we can trip him up or something. Maybe one of us can narrow down his timeline to see if it really is possible Junior did it.”

  Junkie’s closed at two, and Junior called in his accident after four. In theory, he had plenty of time to get from one place to the other, but there were a lot of loose threads. L
ike Junior dressed for work and not heading away from Junkie’s but toward it.

  Precious ran her hands up and down her arms. “This entire situation gives me the creeps.”

  I couldn’t agree more. “If we’re right…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. It was too awful.

  Precious twirled a strand of hair nervously. “If we’re wrong...”

  I jerked open the car door. “I’d rather be wrong and considered a busybody or crazy person than right and not do anything about Junior. Especially if he’s been swindling people, stole a dead man’s ID, robbed Crenshaw and Graycloud, and tied up a woman he’s known all his life.”

  Precious sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly. “And hit that woman’s car, which pushed it into her, and now she’s lost part of her arm and hand.”

  I closed my eyes and recalled Junior’s reaction when the call come across Rawlings and Leo’s shoulder mic. “If all this is true, I think I can say with all honesty I don’t believe Junior knew he hit her. He appeared as shocked as we did when the call came in.”

  The moment hung between us, and I was struck with a realization that left a bitter taste of betrayal in my mouth. “Unless that was a con, too. And if so, I don’t know what to think about people anymore. About humanity.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Friday came way too quick for my liking. Dad was doing research, trying to connect the dots. He had a poker game scheduled for the evening, and he would float everything by Chief Louney over cards and beer. I’m glad Precious and I made a separate plan as everyone else was moving too slowly for my liking.

  Precious wore a bright blue polyester dress with giant abstract flowers in yellow and orange. Her skirt was so short she wore her old cheerleading tap pants underneath. White plastic knee-high boots capped off the outfit. Her hair was pushed back with a broad headband, a bouffant behind it. She looked groovy.

  I’d gone with simple bell bottom pants set in earth tone stripes and platform shoes. I curled my hair and let it hang loose in fat loops. Pepper spray was tucked in my pocket, just in case. My camera was in LC for the same reason. Though I was confident I didn’t want to use either one.