Moments later, they were in Pete's car. Jupiter looked back as Pete drove away. Torres and the gunman stood in front of the garage, staring after the Fiero. They ran back inside.
“Your karate sensei won’t like it,” Jupiter said. “They got up too soon. They’ll be after us in the Buick.”
“I’ve barely got a black belt,” Pete protested as he gunned the Fiero toward the freeway. “What was that about you having a big idea back in there?”
“It’s more than an idea now,” Jupiter replied. “Did you see that Torres was being driven by that guy Max?”
“Sure I did. So what?”
Pete pulled onto the freeway and they relaxed. No one could catch up with them in time to see where they exited.
“My idea was that the orange Cadillac was a stolen car!” Jupiter said. “It was delivered to Torres, who drove it to the garage. That would mean he had to have someone drive him back to the bodega. And that’s just what Max was doing!”
“Then where’s the Caddy now?”
“The answer is that it’s still in there somewhere,” Jupiter said.
“That’s crazy. We saw all three floors. There weren’t any big doors going out anywhere.”
“Torres was in there, and we didn’t see him.”
“He can hide in an office. A Caddy can’t.”
“Maybe, but I’m convinced the Caddy was stolen, and that it’s still in the garage somewhere. The question is where?”
Both guys thought about the vanishing Cadillac as Pete got off at the exit nearest the salvage yard.
As soon as they drove into the yard, Aunt Mathilda came out of the office.
“The judge has finally set Ty’s bail. You can take me to the courthouse.”
Jupiter scrambled into the small backseat of the Fiero to give Aunt Mathilda the front. Pete drove more slowly, and it was past four p.m. by the time they reached the courthouse. Inside the courthouse lobby, Aunt Mathilda introduced the guys to a tall, serious-faced man who was waiting there.
“This is my lawyer, Steve Gilbar. Jupiter’s my nephew, Steve. This is his friend, Pete Crenshaw. They’re trying to clear Ty.”
Steve Gilbar shook hands with Jupe and Pete. “We’ll need all the help we can get on this. The police are convinced Ty is part of a ring of car thieves that have been operating up and down the coast, between Santa Monica and Ventura. They’ve persuaded the judge to set an unusually high bail.” He turned to Aunt Mathilda. “You brought the papers?” She nodded. “What is the bail, Steve?”
“Seventy-five thousand dollars. Outrageous, I call it, but the prosecutor made a strong case for Ty’s importance. They think there’s a clever chop-shop ring operating, and Ty is their first arrest.”
“A chop-shop!” exclaimed Jupe.
“What’s in heaven’s name is a chop-shop?” asked Aunt Mathilda.
“Instead of selling the stolen cars, the thieves take them apart and sell all the parts that aren’t marked with serial numbers,” explained Jupiter.
“They clean the parts up, wrap them, and put them in boxes to look like new,” added Pete. “Then they sell them to dealers who operate parts stores.”
“Don’t the stores know they must be stolen?” Aunt Mathilda asked.
“A lot of them do,” Steve Gilbar said, “but the prices are so good, they don’t ask questions.”
“The few parts that have serial numbers,” Pete said, “like the engine blocks, the crooks ship out of the States to sell in foreign countries.”
“They make more money by selling the parts than by selling whole cars,” added Jupe.
Aunt Mathilda shook her head. “It sounds like a hard thing to stop. I mean, once you take a car apart, it can’t be traced.”
“You’re right,” Steve Gilbar said. “That’s why the police think Ty is so important. The best way to stop the operation is to catch the thieves when they steal the cars.” He looked at his watch. “It’s time, Mathilda. Do you have the bankbooks and deeds?”
She nodded.
“You understand that if Ty runs away, you lose your bail money?”
“I understand, Steve.”
“Then let’s go. Jupiter and Pete, wait here.”
Alone in the courthouse lobby, Jupiter turned to Pete. The leader of the trio beamed.
“A chop-shop ring!” he said excitedly. “Stolen cars all up and down the coast. It has to be El Tiburon and the Piranhas using the band gigs as a cover.”
“We don’t have any proof, Jupe,” Pete said. “I mean, all we have is the name Tiburon, and Joe Torres lying and going to that garage. It’s mostly guessing.”
“We’ve also got a stolen car someone gave Ty to drive, Torres’s connection to Tiburon at the car wash, and a disappearing Cadillac.”
“I don’t know, Jupe.”
“And,” Jupiter said, “Now we have Ty!”
Aunt Mathilda, Steve Gilbar and Ty were coming down the wide courthouse corridor to the lobby. Ty looked tired and pale, but he was smiling and striding along with a bounce in his western boots and ragged jeans.
“Are you okay, Ty?” Pete said.
“Glad to be untied, right, guys?” Ty replied, and laughed at his own joke. “How’s the Corvair?”
“I haven’t had much time to work on it.”
“We’ve been too busy investigating the stolen-car ring,” Jupiter explained.
“Ring?” Ty said. “You mean there’s a gang of car thieves operating around here?”
Steve Gilbar nodded. “The police think so.”
“So that’s why they didn’t want to set bail,” Ty said. “That’s big-time stuff to play with, guys. What have you found out so far?”
“You can talk about that in a minute,” Gilbar said. “Now, you’ll be arraigned next week, Ty. At that time you’ll either be charged or the charges will be dropped. Meanwhile, don’t leave the state or even the county. Understood?”
Both Ty and Aunt Mathilda nodded.
“See you in three days then.”
After Gilbar had gone, the others went out to Pete’s Fiero. With Aunt Mathilda in the front seat, it was a very tight fit in the back for Jupiter and Ty.
“We’d have another car,” Jupiter said, “if Pete would get around to helping me look for one.”
Ty smiled. “I’ll help you, Jupe. Now tell me what you’ve dug up so far, and what we can do next to prove I’m maybe a dummy but not a crook.”
Together, Jupiter and Pete told Ty everything they’d found out and guessed at. He listened carefully, but his eyes seemed to be on the rearview mirror above Pete’s head.
“So we think El Tiburon and the Piranhas are using gigs to cover their car stealing,” Jupiter finished. He took a glossy photograph from his pocket. “Here’s a photo of Tiburon I swiped from outside The Shack. Is that the guy who gave you the Mercedes to drive down to Rocky Beach?”
Ty studied the photo. “I think so, Jupe, but I’m not sure, you know? I’d had a few beers that night. It was dark and smoky, and we were all watching the band. I didn’t look at him all that close, you know? But it sure looks a lot like him.”
“Wasn’t he playing in the band?”
“No.”
“What club were you in?” Jupiter asked.
“Something ‘Blue.’ Yeah. The Blue Lights!”
