by J. C. Eaton
“Looks like we’re in luck. The window is open a hair. Enough to slide it all the way. You want to go first or do you want me to do the honors?”
“I’ll go. This was my idea. Just hold that thing steady.”
“It is steady. It’s designed for outdoor use as well as indoor. Look, it’s not even wobbling.”
I took hold of the sides and gave it a little shake. “Hmm, you’re right. But hold on to it just in case.”
Taking a deep breath, I climbed the nine or ten feet until I reached the bottom of the slider. Then I gave it a shove, and sure enough, it started to move. Started, and stopped a few inches later. It was as if it was stuck on something. I gave it another shove and still nothing. Crap. I don’t have time for this.
I’m sure there was a better way to approach the problem but I wasn’t about to figure it out. Instead, I went into panic mode. That meant giving it a yank and waiting to see what would happen. It was a method my father had perfected over the years with his home projects.
Theo’s voice sounded muffled from below. “Everything okay?”
“I’m not sure. The slider’s stuck. Give me a second.”
I grabbed the wooden door with both hands and winced. The aging wood felt like an emery board and I prayed I wouldn’t wind up with a zillion splinters. Then I shoved it so hard that for a moment I was scared I was going to fall off the ladder.
This time Theo’s voice was louder. “Looks like you got it!”
“I can see the car. Plenty of light coming in from those dirty windows and the gaps in the wall planks. The car’s still covered with a tarp. Good news—the loft looks stable. Only a few hay bales stacked up. Probably older than dirt. And the floorboards are all in one piece. No holes or anything. I’m going in.”
I stepped gingerly onto the floor of the loft and it felt steady. Peering over the side, I could see a fixed wall-mounted ladder. Old and wooden but not missing any rungs. I went back to the loft window and shouted to Theo, “Come on up. I don’t want to be in this barn alone.”
I eyeballed the large beams that ran crosswise in the barn and wondered if they were the original ones. No sign of rot or crumbling wood. I knew the beams in our winery barn were chestnut, and according to John would “last for another century.”
Theo’s voice startled me for a second. “Catch this blanket, will you? I didn’t want to leave it on the ground. You know how Don gets about dirt.”
I caught the blanket and shrugged. “It’s going to get just as dirty on one of the hay bales.”
“Okay, so now what? You want to climb down, pull the tarp and take a look?”
“Yep. And a few pics on my phone if it’s a yellow Karmann Ghia under there.”
“Fine. Hurry up.”
I tossed the blanket onto a hay bale and walked to the edge of the loft. Then I turned around so my back would be to the ladder. Fortunately, the first rung was level with the floor. Whoever built the ladder had the foresight to extend the sides so that someone could easily grasp them when climbing down. I fully expected that splintery feeling when I touched the sides of the ladder but it wasn’t as bad as the window slider.
“Piece of cake,” I said.
Theo walked closer to the edge and whispered, “Do you hear that? Sounds like a rattle.”
“As in snake? Look, I know we get timber rattlers around here, but they don’t climb up to haylofts.”
“Shh. Okay, I don’t hear it anymore.”
My right foot landed square on the first rung and I continued down three or four more rungs. By now, my eyes had gotten adjusted to the dim but sufficient light in the barn. So when the entire place lit up like the Star Spangled Banner, I winced. Behind me, I could hear the barn door opening, followed by a man’s voice.
Crap. Rattlesnake, hell. How about the chain on the barn door?
“Psst! Norrie! Move it! Move it fast! Get up here!”
My feet had suddenly glued themselves to the rungs and I froze. By now there was another male voice shouting something about rigging. I grabbed the sides of the ladder and prayed that somehow my upper-body strength would compel my frozen feet to move. That’s when I heard one of the men ask, “How good is your aim?”
Chapter 29
I don’t remember climbing those last few rungs. What I do remember was Theo grabbing my arms and yanking me behind a pile of hay. I expected a gun to go off but nothing happened. All I could hear was the sound of heavy objects being dragged across the barn floor. We were both half crouched down behind the hay so we had no idea what was happening. Finally, I moved my head ever so slightly and looked down. Sure enough, I spied a chain hoist, some large hooks, and a five- or ten-gallon bucket.
This better not be something out of Criminal Minds, or worse yet, that new FBI show.
Theo reached in his pocket for his cell phone and motioned for me to do the same. Then he sent a text—Don will kill me.
I texted back—He’ll kill the both of us. If those guys below don’t do it first. Keep still. Don’t breathe.
With me on one side of the bales and Theo on the other, we allowed ourselves an inch or two at best to peer past the dusty hay to see what was going on. There were three men in all and none of them looked as if they shied away from the dinner table. And while I wouldn’t quite use the word buff, they were certainly in good physical shape. From a distance it was impossible to gauge their ages but I wagered between late twenties and early forties.
“Someone want to give me a hand with the ladder? Damn thing weighs a ton.”
Good. He brought his own ladder. That means he won’t be using this one.
I felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket. Another text from Theo—We can sneak out now. They’re too preoccupied.
And miss what we came to find?—I texted back.
Just then, another voice from below us. “I’ll start draining the oil once I find the floor jack to lift the rear end of this baby.”
At least that explains the bucket.
“Right behind you.”
I had that awful feeling of getting all dressed up only to find the dance, or concert, or whatever it was that I needed to get dressed up for was suddenly canceled. If they were draining the oil, it was probably some old jalopy down there that they were working on. So much for getting one step closer to finding out who killed Vance.
“Okay,” the ladder guy shouted, “We haven’t got all day. Billy’s gonna have his head stuck under the car so it looks like the two of us will have to get this hoisted up to the beam. Like I asked― How good is your aim?”
So that explains it.
“Hell, I think the chain weighs more than the hoist. Think the beam will hold it?” It was the third voice. Raspier than the other two.
“Yeah, it’ll hold it. Not like we haven’t done this stuff before.”
“But only with Bug motors.”
“It’s the same deal. An air-cooled engine is an air-cooled engine.”
I turned to Theo and mouthed, “What are they doing?”
He moved toward the middle of the hay bales, where I could easily read his lips. “They’re going to remove the engine. They’ll have to disconnect the fuel lines and plug off the tranny lines. That’s for starters.”
“How do you know about this?”
“From watching my uncles when I was a kid. Look, we need to get out of here while we can.”
“Are you sure?” I mouthed back.
“What do you think the hoist is for? It’s definitely some type of Volkswagen because that guy is working under the rear of the car, not the hood. And yeah, I’m sure.”
This time I exaggerated my facial movements. “That’s got to be Vance’s Karmann Ghia. We need to stay here for a few more minutes.”
Theo resumed his position on the side of the bales. So much for thinking it was some run-down old car under that tarp.
The hoist lifting process seemed to take forever. Even after they got the giant hook over the beam. The chains had to be adjusted al
ong with a lot of other stuff that I didn’t recognize.
“This better pay off,” the raspy-voiced guy said, “I’ve got two payments left on this hoist. Can you believe it? A manual ten foot hoist and it cost a fortune. I don’t even want to know what one of those electric models go for.”
“Yeah, but you bought an Ironton, a top-of-the-line model. And we needed a manual one. It’s not like we can count on electricity all the time.”
Theo and I looked at each other with dazed expressions. What were these guys into? I removed my cell phone from my pocket and pushed the camera app in case I needed to take a picture in a hurry. Then I focused on the car. Billy-whoever-he-was used the floor jack to lift the rear of the car off the ground by a few feet. He stood, brushed himself off, and with both hands slid the tarp across the car. The canary yellow color was unmistakable and my jaw all but dropped.
I motioned to Theo and mouthed, “That’s got to be Vance’s car. The last time anyone saw that car was when it was being driven out of Kashong Point the night he was murdered.”
Before Theo had a chance to respond, Billy spoke from under the car. His voice wasn’t quite as audible as the others. Still, what he said was hard to miss. “Good thing you jerks didn’t lose the keys attached to that chain or we’d be S-O-L. Last thing I wanted to do was fiddle with the wires in the steering column.”
My God! This is Vance’s Karmann Ghia.
Then the raspy voice again. “Sorry. Crap happens. The key chain must’ve fallen out of my pocket when I went to pay for something. It could be anywhere.”
My hand began to shake as I inched closer to the edge of the loft to snap a photo. It was evidence if ever there was evidence.
“Watch what you’re doing,” the ladder guy shouted, and in that instant the phone slipped from my hand. It fell to the front of the loft into a pile of loose hay. It happened so fast I had no idea where it landed. Terrific. I’ll probably step on it and will have to apply for another credit card to buy a new one.
“You nearly knocked into me,” the ladder guy continued. “We don’t need to stow the ladder, just get it off to the side.”
“Hey,” Billy shouted, “someone hand me a large screwdriver. I need to push the torque converter back.”
Next thing I heard was the clanging of metal. I figured the men were rummaging through a toolbox. Theo used that opportunity to put his arm on my shoulder and whisper, “Don’t make any sudden movements.”
Then, the raspy voice. “How long before you can clear the engine bell housing?”
“I’m removing the top nuts from behind the fan shroud. Does that answer your question?”
“It answers mine,” Theo mouthed. “It’s late. I’ve got to text Don before he drives over here.”
I nodded. I had to figure out a way to sift through the hay to find my cell phone, but the only thing I could think of was to have Theo call me on it, and that would be a death sentence. Instead, I opted for a more conventional approach—getting down on all fours and stretching out my arm to see if it made contact with the phone. It didn’t.
After what seemed like an eternity, we heard Billy again. “Engine’s dropped onto the dolly but I can’t slide it out. Pull the jack stands. The front’s got to be lowered back down.”
I crinkled my nose and gave Theo one of those “what’s going on?” looks to which he mouthed, “They have to lower the front back down so they can slip the engine out from the rear.”
And I thought the fermentation process was mind-boggling.
“How long before it gets dark?” I whispered.
Theo glanced at his phone. “Twenty minutes if we’re lucky. FYI—Don texted back an angry emoji.”
I swallowed and grimaced. Not a single doubt in my mind the car was Vance Wexler’s prize Karmann Ghia, and those three men had just removed its engine and were now rolling it toward the front of the barn on a four-wheel dolly. None of this made any sense. Unless they were operating an illegal chop shop. But an old Karmann Ghia? Who’s going to want its parts?
With the men otherwise occupied with getting the engine out of the barn, I tried once again to locate my cell phone. This time with both hands. Still no luck. Worse yet, I couldn’t get the expression needle in a haystack out of my head.
While I was still fumbling to find my phone, I heard ladder guy say, “Yep. Road and Track got it right when they called this baby the pinnacle of the classic nine-elevens. And this sweetheart is a Carrera RS two-point-seven. She’ll do the trick, all right.”
Theo grabbed my arm and mouthed, “Holy cow.”
I mouthed back, “What?”
“That was a Porsche engine they removed from the Karmann Ghia. A two-point-seven.”
I stared at him but didn’t say a word. The numbers didn’t mean anything to me. Finally, he mouthed, “Performance racing car,” and suddenly everything began to make sense.
By now the men had rolled the engine out of the barn and slid the front door shut behind them. The hook and hoist were still on the beam and the ladder was resting off to the side. It felt like hours since I first climbed through the loft window and my body had stiffened up as if I was ninety years old.
“Call me on my cell,” I said to Theo. “It’s the only way I’ll find my phone. Then we need to follow those guys.”
“Follow them? We don’t know what they’re driving or where they’re going.”
“It’s got to be a truck. One of them said something about getting the dolly up the ramp. Call me, while there’s still some light coming in from the loft opening. Then call Don and tell him to get over here ASAP.”
Thirty seconds later I located my phone and immediately snapped a few photos of the Karmann Ghia sans its Porsche engine.
“Let’s get going.” Theo grabbed the beach blanket and was the first one to exit out of the loft. I watched as he got on his knees and swung a leg over the edge of the barn until it made contact with the upper rung. “I’ll be right below you to make sure the ladder doesn’t wobble.”
I hadn’t really thought about climbing down, because if I had, I might have opted for another way out, even if it meant breaking an old crusty window.
Chapter 30
I heard that familiar slam of my Toyota’s driver’s-side door as Don got out and walked around to the passenger side. He had parked in front, a few feet away from the barn door. In front of me, a flustered Theo clutched the telescoping ladder under his arm and tromped across the weeds to the car. I charged ahead, beach blanket in a wad resting on my chest. I tossed it at Don the second I got in the car and quickly buckled up.
As soon as Theo put the ladder in the trunk, he slid behind me and shouted, “What are you waiting for?”
I turned to Don. “Did you see a truck head north right after Theo called?”
“No. What on earth’s going on? All I heard was ‘Hurry. Make it quick.’”
“We’re following the thieves who stole Vance’s car. Theo and I saw it in the barn. They took the engine out. It’s in their truck. A Porsche engine. Go figure.” I turned the key in the ignition and watched the stream of traffic heading south. “If they didn’t go north up the lake, they’re headed downtown.”
Next, I pulled onto Route 14 and stepped on the gas. The sun had already dipped below the horizon but there was still plenty of dim daylight. It was anyone’s guess where that truck was headed, but at least I was pretty certain of the general direction.
Without giving any thought to state or local law enforcement, I continued to hammer the gas, passing two sedans and one T-Bird convertible.
“If the truck’s on this road, we’ll catch up to it,” I said. “There were three men, so one of them has to be riding in the bed. Keep your eyes peeled. It’s a truck, not a race car. It can’t be that far ahead of us. We’ll be on its tail in no time.”
“If you don’t get us all killed first,” Don replied. “You all but took the side-view mirror off of that Nissan back there. Will someone please tell me what you saw?”
>
Theo began to explain while I passed a silver SUV with one of those big family stickers on the rear window. Father, mother, a zillion kids, and two dogs. Yeesh. Seconds later, I spied a faded blue truck.
“Up ahead. Two cars in front. Holy cow! I think that’s them. Hold on.”
The road curved so I had to wait for a clear spot in order to pass the ancient beige Buick that all but slowed me down to a crawl. Once free from the slowest geezer in the Finger Lakes, I sped up to pass a VW Bug, when the road curved again. Coming dead-on in front of me from the opposite lane was a motorcycle. I couldn’t slow down, back off, or do anything in between except hold my breath and pray the driver knew how to maneuver his bike.
“Watch what you’re doing, Norrie!” Don yelled.
The biker hugged the lakeside of the road and continued north as if nothing had happened.
Then Theo. “There isn’t enough insurance in the world to get me in a car with you again.”
I was shaken but tried not to show it. “It’s okay. We’re okay. Look, we’re right behind those guys. Don’t take your eyes off of them. Besides, the next guy doesn’t want to get into an accident any more than we do.”
“Where on earth did you hear that?” he asked.
The next few miles went smoothly and I kept a reasonable distance from the faded blue truck.
“What the heck was a Porsche engine doing in Vance’s Karmann Ghia?” Don asked. “Could it have been swapped out with a Porsche in some clandestine operation? And maybe that’s what got Vance killed?”
Theo leaned over so that his head rested between mine and Don’s. “Or maybe he bought it on the up and up and had it dropped into his Karmann Ghia, where no one would suspect what was under the rear.” Then, “Slow it down, Norrie. You’re right on his tail. Damn, too bad the extra seat belt doesn’t reach this far.”
“Oh, honestly! If I slow it down, someone will pass me. Those guys don’t know who we are. As far as they’re concerned, we’re just tourists in an innocuous old Toyota.”