'Just tell people I was looking for Uncle Fred, and things got complicated.'
My mother shook the iron at me. 'If that man isn't dead I'm going to kill him myself.'
Hmm. Mom appeared to be a little stressed. 'Okay,' I said, 'I guess I can take Grandma with me.' Might not be a bad idea anyway. I didn't think the pervert sheik would be so fast to flash his johnson with Grandma on board.
'It's a shame we can't take that nice black car,' Grandma said. 'It looks more like a chauffeur car.'
'I'm not taking any chances,' I told her. 'I don't want anything to happen to the black car. It's getting locked up nice and safe in the garage.'
I loaded Grandma into the Buick, backed it out the driveway, and parked it on the street. Then I carefully eased the Lincoln into the garage and secured the doors.
In exactly thirty-five minutes I was at the address Tank had given me. It was in a neighborhood of expensive houses on two- and three-acre lots. Most houses were behind gated drives, tucked into yards filled with mature trees and professionally landscaped shrubs. I pushed the button on the call box and gave my name. The gates opened, and I drove up to the house.
'I guess this is pretty,' Grandma said, 'but they aren't gonna get many trick-or-treaters up here. I bet Halloween is a big bust.'
I told Grandma to stay put and went to the door.
The door opened, and Ahmed looked out at me and frowned. 'You!' he said. 'What are you doing here?'
'Surprise,' I said. 'I'm your driver.'
He looked over at the car. 'And what's that supposed to be?'
'That's a Buick.'
'There's an old lady in it.'
'That's my grandmother.'
'Forget it. I'm not riding with you. You're incompetent.'
I put my arm around him and tugged him to me. 'I've been having a difficult couple of days here,' I said in confidential tones. 'And I'm running a little low on patience. So I'd appreciate it if you'd get into the car without a lot of fuss. Because otherwise, I'm going to shoot you.'
'You wouldn't shoot me,' he said.
'Try me.'
A man stood behind Ahmed. He was holding two suitcases, and he was looking uncomfortable.
'Put them in the trunk,' I said to the man.
A woman had come to the door.
'Who's that?' I asked the kid.
'My aunt.'
'Wave to her and smile and get in the car.'
He sighed and waved. I waved, too. Everybody waved. And then I drove away.
'We would have brought the black car,' Grandma said to Ahmed, 'only Stephanie's been having real bad luck with cars.'
He slouched lower, sulking. 'No kidding.'
'You don't have to worry with this one, though,' Grandma told him. 'We had this one locked up in the garage so no one could plant a bomb on it. And knock on wood, it hasn't blown up yet.'
I picked up Route 1 and followed it to New Brunswick, where I moved over to the turnpike. I got on the turnpike and headed north, barreling along in the Buick, thankful that my passenger was still fully dressed and Grandma had fallen asleep, mouth open, hanging from her shoulder harness.
'I'm surprised you're still working for this company,' Ahmed said. 'If I had been your employer I would have fired you.'
I ignored him and turned the radio on.
He leaned forward. 'Perhaps it's difficult to get a competent person to do a menial job like this.'
I glanced at him in the rearview mirror.
'I'll give you five dollars if you'll show me your breasts,' he said.
I rolled my eyes and raised the volume on the radio.
He slouched back in his seat. 'This is boring,' he shouted at me. 'And I hate this music.'
'Are you thirsty?'
'Yes.'
'Would you like to stop for a soda?'
'Yes!'
'Too bad.'
