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“Still rude?”
“So, maybe a wedding? You don’t want to marry the pampered man you said yes to, so you’re having a torrid affair with Victor and you got caught, so now, you’re running. Ballpark figure . . . how close am I?”
She suddenly starts falling about laughing. “You’re playing the wrong game and you forgot to bring the ball.”
I pretend not to be amused.
“Yeah, well, this is gonna take as long as it takes. Okay, Princess? I know there’s a society prince somewhere pining for you. And something’s going on, but you’re passing through, so as soon as I get your car up and running and roadworthy, you can pass on by and take your troubles with you.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she says, turning. “Keep the change. And if it’s more, bill me.”
Says the princess.
* * *
The car’s sweet, no two ways about it. Getting the facelift is gonna be easy, and I’ve done as much as I can before I need to hand it over to an expert, which I know. I can coax a panel back from the dead, give it some tender loving, and make it fucking sing, but this is different.
It’s a new car, and it should look as good as it can before she leaves.
Sidney’s gonna need to get it booked in when she gets to wherever the fuck she’s going, but I’m not about to put something this sweet out on the road without looking as close to showroom new as I can.
I’m more interested in what gets it going, and it’s about six p.m. I’ve finished my other things for the day, and I’m back under her Audi when my phone rings. I roll out and to the computer where my phone’s set up.
I don’t recognize the number, but it’s a New Jersey number. “Danny’s.”
“Hi, I’m callin’ about the part for the Audi?”
With a frown, I check the phone number against where I ordered the part from. They don’t have a spot with this number. Or with this area code. I went small, through someone I know. They might have sourced it, but a quick check shows me the Audi dealership is in the next town over from the number.
“Is there a problem?” I ask.
“We wanted to check the name and the insurance details.”
The man’s voice is so confident, it smacks of wrong.
“Hold on . . .” I drum my fingers on the stand next to the computer.
I’m not the twin of a sheriff for nothing, and there’s just something odd about it. Even if I don’t take into account the number not matching any dealer listed.
So, I do what I do best . . . bullshit.
“Is there a problem?”
“It’s a custom color, right?”
“Old Man Grover isn’t into custom colors. This is black, and he’s got a long-standing account here,” I say. “He bought himself a new car when he got that inheritance. Don’t believe this is an insurance claim, so nothing’s being filed. Just a little work, that’s all. Anything else?”
I give him time to answer.
“You see—”
“Great, good. Have a good evening.”
I hang up and stare at the computer.
Whatever the fuck that was, I think the princess is up to her neck in something.
Bad.
