Izzy explains my car dilemma and five minutes later, Hurley and I are headed for Kohler’s Used Cars, which is located on the north edge of town. The first minute of our ride is in silence. Then Hurley breaks it with a loaded question.
“So what do you think of Aaron Heinrich?”
Trying not to smile, I simply say, “I like him. He seems to be the only one in that family—in either of those two families, for that matter—who has his head on straight.”
Hurley contemplates my answer for a second and then says, “He seems to like you.”
“Well, it’s mutual then.”
In the periphery of my vision I see Hurley shoot a worried glance in my direction. I maintain my beatific Mona Lisa smile and say nothing. The remainder of the ride, which is a blessedly short couple of minutes, is utterly quiet until we pull onto the car lot.
“Let’s take a look at what they have,” Hurley says. He drives around, checking out the inventory. Most of the cars are only a year or two old—no doubt a sign of the economic times—and they come with scary price tags that are way out of my league. After a run up and down each aisle, Hurley parks outside the office.
Bobby Keegan, a classmate from high school, is on sales duty and he rushes out the door of the building to greet us. Back in the day, Bobby was a star player on our high school football team and he still looks like a jock. He’s dressed very casually in jeans, a Polo knock-off shirt, and a letter jacket—probably the same one he wore in high school. If I look close I can see a couple of white hairs mixed in with his natural blond, but overall Bobby has aged well and looks much the same as he did nearly twenty years ago.
“Mattie Winston!” he says, greeting me with a big smile as I get out of the car. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
I’m not sure if Bobby actually remembers me from high school. I didn’t hang with him and the rest of the jocks-and-cheerleaders group, and wasn’t the memorable type in general. I probably would have been marked as a wallflower if not for my popularity at the slow dances.
I haven’t kept up with most of my high school acquaintances; heading off for college severed many a relationship and a lot of the kids moved on to bigger and better towns. But I do occasionally run into old classmates who stayed in Sorenson or who, like me, returned here after their college years. Bobby is a classic example. We crossed paths at the hospital a few months ago after his wife convinced him to get a vasectomy following the delivery of their fifth child. Knowing I’d be among the crew wielding a scalpel in the area of his love spuds allowed Bobby and me to reconnect in no time.
“I need a car,” I tell Bobby. “My other one was totaled and until I can get the insurance situation sorted out, I need some wheels to get me around, something cheap but reliable.”
“How cheap are you thinking?” Bobby asks.
“I have about three grand.”
“That’s a decent down payment,” he says, turning to scan the parking lot inventory. He starts to head for a nearby row of cars.
“It’s not a down payment,” I tell him, stopping him in his tracks. “That’s the total amount.”
I see Hurley turn to stare at me, but I avoid looking at him. Bobby looks back at me and laughs. “That’s a good one,” he says with a chuckle. “Seriously, how much are you looking to spend?”
“It isn’t a joke, Bobby. That’s all I have.”
Hurley says, “Christ, Winston, you can hardly buy a bicycle for that kind of money these days. Can’t Izzy front you some cash?”
“He already did,” I say irritably, shooting him a dirty look. I turn back to Bobby with my best pleading expression. “Look, Bobby, I’m in a tight spot. You know about my situation with David, don’t you?”
He nods even though it’s a rhetorical question. In a town this size, hot gossip is the one thing that disproves the theory of relativity by traveling faster than the speed of light. Plus, Alison plastered my private life all over the paper when she wrote up the article on Karen Owenby’s death and the other murders that followed.
“David and I don’t have any kind of official agreement between us yet so the whole money thing is a bit complicated for me right now. Plus, the insurance and title on my wrecked car are both in David’s name. So all I have is three grand. Do you have anything for me?”
Bobby stares at me with an expression of disbelief and starts to shake his head but then he snaps his fingers and his face lights up. “You know what, I just might,” he says. “Follow me.” He leads us inside the showroom and directs us to a couple of chairs by a desk. “Have a seat. I need to talk to my manager but I’ll be right back.”
Hurley and I settle in as Bobby disappears through a door.
“Are you crazy, Winston?” Hurley says to me. “Do you have any idea what kind of heap you’re going to end up with for that amount of money?”
“What do you want me to do, steal a car?” I snap back. “I thought my marriage to David was for a lifetime so I didn’t worry much about the financial end of things. I have virtually no credit in my own name; everything we own is in his name. Not very savvy of me, I’ll grant you, but I was in love and trusting. I got blindsided and now I’m paying for it.” I pause, realizing the irony of my last statement. “No pun intended,” I add.
He gives me a sympathetic look and shakes his head. “Can’t you borrow money from your sister or something?”
“No. She’s got two kids to raise and a husband who makes good money but who also spends it with abandon. Probably on porn,” I add, rolling my eyes.
We fall silent for a few moments and then Hurley says, “I don’t have a lot saved up but I can probably loan you another thousand or two if that will help.”
I shoot him a look of gratitude. “That’s very sweet of you,” I tell him. “But I don’t like borrowing money from friends. At least with Izzy it’s being treated like an advance against my wages. He’ll take a little out of each paycheck until I’ve paid it all back. If what I have isn’t enough, then I’ll go plead my case to the bank. There’s a local banker I know who might loan me a few grand in exchange for some sexual favors.”
Hurley doesn’t respond but he studies me hard enough to make me blush, no doubt trying to determine if I’m joking or not.
Bobby returns, saving me from having to clarify. “Mattie Winston, this is your lucky day,” he says with a big- assed grin. “It just so happens we have an older-model car in stock that just came in, and my boss is willing to let you have it for three grand. It’s not real pretty, mind you,” he cautions, “but it’s been well maintained and the engine is solid. And it’s never been driven hard. It should be good for another fifty thousand miles or so.”
This is good news. Fifty thousand miles is a long time when you live in a town whose perimeters are only a few miles apart.
“What make, model, and year is it?” Hurley asks.
Bobby hesitates before answering. “It’s a ninety-two Cadillac.”
“You’re going to sell her a car that’s nearly twenty years old?” Hurley scoffs.
“It’s old, yes,” Bobby says quickly, holding up a hand to Hurley’s objection, “but it’s a Caddy. And it’s got low mileage for its age, just over a hundred thousand.”
Hurley frowns. “I suppose you’re going to tell us next that it belonged to some little old lady who only drove it around town.”
“Well,” Bobby says with a sideways nod, “it
After Bobby takes us into the back mechanic’s area and shows us the car, Hurley pops the hood and starts looking over the engine. An hour later he wipes the grease from his hands and delivers his verdict. “He’s right,” he says. “It’s in pretty good shape. I think you should buy it.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m not. I know it’s not the most beautiful vehicle in the world but the engine is sound and the interior is in decent shape. Plus, the price is right.”
I fold my arms over my chest and pout, knowing he’s right but none too happy about it.
“Hey,” Hurley says, “you can always stay with Bjorn.”
My brain summons up the smell of stale urine and my objections begin to ease. Then Bobby makes me an offer I can’t refuse.
