Before I left, I asked about the father of Roberta’s baby, and Mr. Johnson said, “Melvin Baines. Eighteen years old and stickin’ it to my daughter. Prick lives over at the corner of Negley and Winchester, big yellow brick place. They don’t have a brain between’em, why we made Bobbie give up that kid.”
I drove over to Melvin’s house and found no one home, so I parked out front and waited. An hour later, a skinny white kid walked past my car and up the walk to the house. He was wearing a Yankees hat.
The rest was easy. I caught up with him on his front porch and told him I was looking for Bobbie. Within thirty seconds, I could tell that Melvin, too, was easily confused. And his eyes kept moving past me to an abandoned apartment building just down the street.
Two minutes later I was standing in one of the first floor apartments, holding Phil’s daughter with one hand while using the other to call him to come get his baby. Bobbie and Melvin had wanted a replacement baby, and they hadn’t thought it through any further than Melvin procuring one for them.
Phil had wanted to give me a blank check, but I told him there was no charge. Early on, Uncle Leo had impressed upon me that you didn’t take money for looking for children. “Find’em or not,” he’d said, “if there’re little ones involved, there’s no bill.” Then Phil tried to give me a new car, and when I turned that down, too, and he saw that I was serious, he just looked at me and nodded and shook my hand.
* * *
While the boys in the shop had their way with the 4Runner, I wandered around the showroom. No reason not to at least glance at the new cars. Simple courtesy, really. I was checking out a grayish Camry XLE when a slender young black man wearing a three-piece suit approached me and put out his hand.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m Randall. Beautiful vehicle, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is,” I agreed. “And I’m just looking, Randall. Killing time while my car’s being serviced.”
“Hey, no problem,” he said. “My boss says we should greet the customer, and then if the customer wants to be left alone, we’re supposed to leave them alone.”
Actually, I knew that that was Phil’s policy. He didn’t believe in high pressure salesmanship. Randall gave me his card and turned to leave.
“Say, Randall,” I said, “If I was interested in this gray number here, what kind of numbers would we be talking?”
“It’s antique sage pearl, sir, and why don’t we go into my office?”
* * *
Two hours later, I was signing the sales agreement. Randall said I could pick up the car the following Monday, once all the paperwork had been processed. I asked if there was any chance of my getting it by Saturday, and he left to talk to the general manager. When the two of them came back a couple of minutes later, Phil was with them.
“JB,” he said, shaking my hand, “I didn’t know you were here. Randall tells me you’re buying that XLE we got on the floor. Good choice. He also tells me you’d like it by Saturday. I believe we can expedite matters a little.”
“Phil, I’m not asking for any special—”
“And you aren’t getting any,” he said. “Nothing that we wouldn’t do for any other customer who’s been loyal to the dealership over the years.” He looked at me for a minute and then added, “You gonna give me grief over this?”
“Nah,” I said, “I’m not. Thanks, Phil.”
He turned to walk out of the office, then paused and looked back at me.
“Logan’s starting kindergarten next year, JB.”
I nodded.
* * *
An hour later, as I drove home in my Camry XLE, I took a deep breath.
New car smell.
Ya gotta love it.
Chapter 19
I picked Laura up at six o’clock on Saturday night. Usually I park in one of the lined-in spaces out front, as close as I can to the covered walkway that leads to the building’s entrance. Tonight, even though there was a space right beside the awning, I left my Camry at the curb at the end of the walkway. I’m pretty sure you can park a new car just about anywhere you want for the first thirty days. Some kind of state law, I think.
Laura buzzed me into the lobby and said she’d be right down. As I waited, I checked my reflection in the mirrors across the hall from the twin elevators. For this evening’s festivities, I had selected a brown suit with a muted blue windowpane pattern, beige dress shirt with gold collar pin, a dark blue tie with a background of tiny gold triangles, and my best brown dress loafers. It was warm enough that I had decided to go sans coat.
Within a minute, the doors to the elevator on my left slid open and Laura appeared. Whereas I had gone for dressy, it was obvious that Laura had opted for gorgeous. Her long-sleeved, fitted beige dress stopped a couple of inches above her knees and had a high-cut neckline, over which hung a medium length, delicate gold chain that matched the earrings which peeked out from behind the brown hair that settled softly about her shoulders. She carried a small purse that was exactly the same color as her beige pumps with the four-inch heels. Her makeup was flawless, her lipstick was perfect, and as she walked out of the elevator and over to me, carrying a lightweight tan coat over one arm, several parts of her body moved in ways that were most likely illegal in some of your
