“Now I’ve got a whole nickel, Ma.”
“Yeah? Spend it wisely. Now if you don’t mind I’m gonna catch a little shut-eye.”
Which she did. Two minutes later she was fast asleep, leaving me alone with my thoughts, working on jail keepers and gifting.
I woke Ma up a few miles outside of Alturas. We cruised the main street from one end to the other and back, found a guy who did minor body work on cars along with brake jobs and tune-ups, but he’d never painted a car in his life.
So, back on the road.
A quick look around Lakeview, Oregon, gave us a body shop that would paint a car, but they’d never painted a Mercedes SUV.
So, on to Bend.
Ma drifted in and out of light dozes. I had to stop at a roadside gas station and get a Red Bull to keep going. A hundred miles from Bend Ma was awake so I said, “Gifting.”
Ma smiled. “Keep chewin’ on it. Probably best if you try not to think like a guy.”
“No sweat. I’ll do that.”
A hundred miles. It took two hours and we didn’t get to Bend until four twenty in the afternoon. Twenty miles out, Ma pulled out her cell phone and found three body shops, no car painters.
We hit Bud’s Body Shop first. Bud and two others hadn’t seen a Mercedes SUV, green or otherwise, so we drove over to Lou’s Auto Body on SE Railroad Street. And hit pay dirt. Lou was a one-legged guy in a wheelchair who no longer did body work, but his son and two employees did.
Lou was sixty-five years old, with spindly arms and a pot gut, white whiskers. He’d gotten on Medicare two months ago, and was elated to have dumped a health care plan that had been costing him an arm and a leg. He pointed to the missing leg, told us he’d given it as last year’s premium. Nice.
“Nine hundred fifty dollars a month with a ten-thousand-dollar deductible. Sonofabitchin’ ACA was about to bankrupt my ass,” he said. “Affordable Fucking Care Act, my limp dick. Washington’s full of imbeciles. So what kin I do for you?”
“Lookin’ for a Mercedes SUV,” Ma said. “Green, didn’t look like it needed painting, but it might’ve been brought in and painted white anyway.”
“Yep. Did that. Pretty weird deal, lemme tell you.”
Ma and I looked at each other. Ma was smiling. I might, later, but I was still too surprised to smile. I was a hell of a fine gumshoe. Remarkable, really. If I’d had feathers, I would’ve preened, turned my head all the way around, and pecked mites off my back. This was great. We’d been looking for a green SUV, but the son of a bitch had turned white.
“Lady said she didn’t care for green,” Lou said. “So why’d you buy a green one, I asked her? She told me she’d bought it off some guy for peanuts so between that and a new paint job she’d still come out ahead. Me, I’d have kept the green. Car wasn’t a year old, paint was in perfect shape, but she wanted it white, so, hell, I’ll take her money. Charged her twenty-four hundred bucks. She paid it without battin’ an eye.”
“Do you have the charge slip?” Ma asked.
“Nope. She paid cash.”
“Cash. That seem right to you?”
He shrugged. “I’ve been in this business forty years. I’ve seen cash before.”
“Was anyone with her?”
“Like who?”
“Like anyone.”
“Didn’t see anyone. She came in alone.”
“When was that?”
Lou couldn’t remember. He wheeled himself into his office and thumbed through a pile of receipts, pulled one out. “Brought it in just last Thursday.” He shook his head. “What’s today? Wednesday? Wasn’t all that long ago. My damn mind’s going. Can’t remember much of anything these days.”
“How about the VIN number?”
“Got that,” he said. “Change the color of a car, law says I gotta take down the VIN number, report it to the DMV.”
“Uh-huh. Knew that. What state were the plates?”
“Nevada. Don’t know why she didn’t get it painted in Reno, Sparks, Carson. I asked, but she said she was visiting her sister up here and she’d be around a couple of days, so why not here? Me, I don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, so I took her money.”
“Who’d you report the VIN to?”
“Nevada DMV, of course.” He gave Ma the VIN and she typed it into her cell phone.
Ma turned to me. “Hell. If I’d thought about a color change I might’ve picked up on this in Reno. I’ll have to remember this.” To Lou she said, “This place got Wi-Fi?”
“Yep. So’s I can roll around, stay connected.”
“Mind if I get in?”
“Nope. The password is ‘BABS by Lou.’ ”
“BABS?”
“Bad Ass Body Shop. Don’t tell anyone ’round here or they’ll start cloggin’ up my Internet.”
“Don’t you worry, doll.” She hustled out to the Eldorado, came back with a laptop, and got online with Nevada DMV using her investigator’s access. “Ah-hah,” she said. “VIN for that SUV is registered to Mary Odermann, but now it’s got the color as white, not green, so they changed it. Hell. I shoulda been checking that every couple of days for all those cars.”
“Live and learn, Ma,” I said.
She gave me a dim smile. “Yep. I missed that one.” She turned to Lou. “What’d this woman look like?”
He thought about that for a moment. “Let’s see . . . seems I remember dark hair, kinda long, dark glasses, even here in the shop, and she had on some kinda hat with a big brim.”
“How tall?”
“From down here in this chair, hard to tell. Five seven to maybe five ten. Fairly tall side of average.”
“How old did she look?”
“Somewhere in her thirties. Doubt if she’d hit forty yet.”
“Thin, fat?”
“Thinnish. Not heavy. Good figure, what I could see of it.”
“Round face or thin? Moles, anything like that?”
“Don’t really know from round or thin faces. And I didn’t see anything like a mole anywhere. Probably wouldn’t anyway. I don’t generally take note of that kind of thing. If she was missing an arm or leg, I’d’ve seen that, probably bought her a drink.”
“Fingernail polish?”
He tilted his head. “Yeah. Saw that when she counted out a bunch of bills, paying for the work. Sorta red, with some kinda design on the nails like they do nowadays.”
“How long was the car in for painting?”
“Day and a bit. She came in right about noon. We were eating lunch. We got right on it, had it painted by five, had it drying under heat lamps all night. She picked it up that next afternoon, Friday.”
“So she spent the night here in Bend.”
“Must’ve, yeah. Probably at her sister’s.”
“Got an address for the sister?”
“She didn’t give one.”
“Phone number?”
“Didn’t leave that either. She said she’d be back and that was that. Acted in a hurry. Kinda tight-ass.”
“Did anyone here in the shop drive her anywhere?”
“Nope. She said she’d phone her sister, have her come pick her up.”
“Did you see that happen?”
“Not me. Might ask one of the boys, though. I don’t get around so good, so I didn’t go look outside when she left.”
Ma turned to me. “Did I miss anything?”
“How were her teeth?” I asked Lou.
Ma laughed. “Jeri said you were hopeless. C’mon.” She pulled me toward the three-bay garage.
“Any of you guys see that lady whose Mercedes you painted white last Thursday?” she asked in a loud voice.
All of them came over. All of them had seen her. They were a grease-stained lot, grease in their hair, paint on their clothes. Two of them could’ve used haircuts so they didn’t look so much like girls from the back, but that wasn’t my business or my problem.
“Any of you see where she went?” Ma said. “What car picked her up?”
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“No car,” said a tall, skinny guy with paint-speckled glasses. “At least not right out front. She headed down the street on foot, that way.” He pointed.
“Then what?” Ma asked.
The guy shrugged. “Then nothin’. She was gone, so we got to work on her car. Rush job.”
“Was anyone with her? Waiting outside or anything?”
He shrugged. “Didn’t see anyone.”
“What was she wearing?”
“A dress, kinda summery. Day was warm enough.”
“What color dress?”
“Blue. Bluish. Had stuff printed on it, like flowers.”
“How’d her legs look?”
All three looked at each other. “Good, right?” the skinny guy asked the others. “Yeah, real good,” a chubby guy said.
“How about her chest, guys?”
The skinny one grinned. “That was pretty nice, too.”
“There, see?” Ma said to me.
“See what?”
“No eunuch switch, so I don’t look for one.”
She thanked the three guys and we left. Ma headed down the street in the direction the one guy had pointed. I kept up with her. “No eunuch switch,” I said.
“One guy in a hundred actually has one. Guys with names like Percy Milquetoast, Roger Gelding, things like that. Doesn’t get my old heart racing, lemme tell you. One problem with Thunder Down Under is half those guys are into guys, not girls. I wish they’d make them wear something like a purple sweatband so I’d know which was which. Go to something like that, all you can do is hope the one that really gets you in a lather is a guy guy, not just well-muscled eye candy dreaming about Brad.”
When we reached the corner, Ma shaded her eyes, looked west toward the main drag. “I don’t think there’s a sister up here. Let’s go get the Caddy and check some nearby motels, see if we can find out where she stayed.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
WE HIT THE main street, SE Third, and looked both ways. A few blocks south was the Cascade Lodge. An Econo Lodge and a Motel 6 were up north, two blocks away.
“Might be harder to figure out where she stayed than which body shop she used,” Ma said. “Body shop with three guys versus a motel with umpteen employees and foot traffic in and out. But she dropped the car off around noon last Thursday, and it’s Wednesday now, middle of the week, so the same people might be manning the desks. We’ve got a decent shot at this. So look around, boyo. She’s on foot. Which way would she go?”
I looked both ways again. Fairly busy street. The Econo and Motel 6 were on the far side of the street, but closer. The Cascade was a block farther away, but on this side of the street. Traffic lights would make it easy to cross over. But she was in a Mercedes, and the Cascade was a step up from the Econo and the Six.
“Left,” I said. “Cascade Lodge.”
Ma smiled. “You show promise. Let’s go.”
I drove south, pulled into the registration parking area, and we went in. A girl was at the desk, late twenties, pretty, Hispanic, halo of glossy black hair around her head and shoulders, big eyes, full lips, wearing a pale blue polo shirt with the Cascade logo on it.
“Help you?” she asked in a slight Spanish accent.
Ma nudged my hip, low enough that the counter hid it. She walked a few feet away and checked out brochures for local outdoor activities—hiking, river rafting, local rodeo, horseback riding.
“Hi there, sweetheart,” I said, hoping I’d hit the right note. “I’m trying to track down a woman who might’ve checked in here about a week ago.”
“You look juss like that guy.” Her accent picked up a notch, put a little extra ooo on look, turned it into “luke.” I liked that.
“What g—oh, yeah, him. I’ve been getting that.” Sonofabitch. I’d forgotten my wig, moustache.
“Him on the TV. He good lookin’, juss like you.” She gave me a smile with some heat in it. A tag on her chest said Sophie.
Okay, this was working out, now that we’d gotten over the shy, awkward, getting-to-know-you part. “Thanks. Maybe we could get a drink later, Sophie.”
“I get off at ten.”
In my face. That old PI black magic was still alive and well, ghosts of Spade and Hammer in the corners, hooting and catcalling, slapping each other on the back.
“Great,” I said. “Where’s a good place we could meet?”
“There’s a lounge down the street. The Evergreen.” She leaned closer, lowered her voice. “It would juss be, you know, for a drink.”
“Absolutely. But, uh, I’m looking for a woman who was here, or might have been, a week ago. Alone, in her thirties, maybe in a sort of blue print dress, a few inches taller than you, dark hair.”
“You know this woman?”
“No. I’m trying to find out who she is.”
“You a cop?”
“Nope. I’m a PI. Private eye.”
“Yeah?” She smiled. “I like that.” She looked around. “I saw a woman like this, but, you know, I could like lose my job if . . . you know.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. The Evergreen was definitely in my future. Having gotten the gist of things, Ma had moved farther away. In fact, as I watched, she went out the double glass doors and stood outside, looking around.
Sophie stared at her. “That your mother?”
“Nope. She’s a PI, too. We’re working together.” And it was a good thing she was outside or, due to sudden death syndrome, this conversation with Sophie might be over right now.
Or maybe not. Maybe Ma would laugh it off. She was actually about the right age to be my mom. She didn’t appear to have a huge ego when it came to her age or her looks. But I could be wrong, and if I had to guess, I’d say I was since being wrong is more or less my MO. Anyway, back to Sophie, who was looking at me with what I thought was a shy but interested smile. Probably wrong again.
“So,” I said. “See you at the Evergreen? A little after ten?”
“Okay. Uh, what your name?” Name came out “nem.” Nice.
“Steve,” I said. Steve sounded like a safe name, unlike Bubba or Spike, or even Jack—ever since that awkward Ripper business in London a while back. I wasn’t going to learn anything about the SUV lady until after ten, and I didn’t want to scare Sophie off.
Little did I know.
“Got me a hot date, Ma,” I said.
“Attaboy.”
“Evergreen tonight at ten. Bar down the street. I think maybe Sophie saw the woman we’re looking for, but I can’t be sure. She might just want a nightcap.”
“Sophie, huh? Cute little thing, too.”
“Yup.”
“Good work. Except I don’t expect a lot outta her unless you can get a charge slip or a license plate number, which I don’t think is gonna happen tonight at the Evergreen unless she’s got one hell of a memory. Anyway, right now we could use us a place to stay.”
I looked back at the desk through the glass doors. Sophie was watching us. She smiled at me. “We’re at a place now, Ma. It looks like the kind of place that might have rooms.”
“Uh-huh. It also has a hot Latin number at the desk who would check us in—so she’d know what room you’re in and she’d have access to a room key.”
“All very true and interesting, but what’s your point?”
“Figger it out.”
“I am trusted, Ma. Around naked women, too. Ask Jeri. I am a rock, I am a freakin’ islan—”
She grabbed my arm and hustled me toward the Caddy. We got in and Ma said, “Motel 6, boyo. We’ll get a couple of rooms then check out this Evergreen place. Then we’ll find us a place to eat. So are you gonna drive this thing or do I gotta push?”
“Go ahead. I want to see how fast you can get ’er going. Ten miles an hour and I’ll buy you dinner, including appetizer.”
“Drive.”
We ended up in rooms fourteen and fifteen at Motel 6, fifty-two bucks each, two queen beds in the rooms, Wi-Fi, comfortable but generic, with mints o
n the pillows. A knock on the door roused me from my enchantment with the accommodations.
“Didn’t order room service,” I called out.
A bark of laughter came from outside. “Let’s get goin’, boyo.”
I opened the door, then looked back inside. “Look, Ma. Mints on the pillows. We landed in paradise.”
She pulled me out the door. “Evergreen,” she said. “Let’s see what kinda place it is.”
Every bit as generic as Motel 6, the Evergreen Lounge was a dim dive a couple blocks south of the Cascade. Radioactive green lighting under the bar reflected off rows of bottles along the wall below mirror tiles marbled with gold streaks. Dark red Naugahyde booths along one wall, a few tables in the middle, eight stools at a twenty-foot bar, soft jazz, no jukebox, dark blue indirect lighting, restrooms in back. Not one surprise in the place.
Ma and I sat at the bar and downed beers, ate pretzels and beer nuts. We were the only customers, so the place wasn’t exactly doing a land office business. The bartender was a woman about my age with a tattoo of a railroad spike imbedded high on her left breast, a devil with a pitchfork on her right shoulder, and boredom flattening the look in her eyes.
At Lou’s Body Shop Ma had put the VIN number of the SUV into her phone. She pulled it out and stared at the number as if it would tell her something.
“Mary Odermann,” she said after a while. “Green SUV painted white. Means it’s likely we’re on the right track, even if Mary is pushing daisies. I think it puts us on Leland Bye, big-time—Mary’s brother and a lawyer to boot. Right now I don’t see Bob Odermann anywhere near that SUV.”
“I thought he looked startled when I mentioned that I wanted to sell one just like it.”
“Uh-huh. There’s that. Still don’t see him near it. Mary’s not driving it. Don’t think Bob is, either. But if we don’t get anywhere with Leland, we’ll pin a tail on Bob for a while.”
We finished our beers. I wondered if one more would look unprofessional when Ma said, “Go check out the men’s room, doll.”
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