Greg Tenorly Suspense Series Boxed Set

by Robert Burton Robinson

“Hey—don’t let Uncle Ed hear you say that. And, no, I wouldn’t say they’re stupid looking. At least Ed’s weren’t. He had two of them—1958 models. One was a hardtop, and the other one was a convertible. They were amazing automobiles.”

  “That must be where you learned to love old cars—from your Uncle Ed.”

  “Yeah, definitely.” He paused. “My grandfather’s name was Ford.”

  “Oh, yeah—I remember you saying that. But I didn’t associate the name with cars. I mean, I’ve heard of other men with the first name Ford.”

  “Yeah, but his last name was Torkman.”

  “So?”

  “You know—like torque. As in a torque wrench.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what that is, Sweetie.”

  “It’s a tool. Mechanics use it when they’re tightening bolts on an engine—so they get just the right amount of pressure. It can cause big problems if the bolts are too loose or too tight.”

  “I see,” she said, not fully understanding, but not wanting to hear further explanation.

  “Grandpa was a mechanic too. But they hadn’t planned to name their son Edsel. It just so happened that he was born on E-Day.”

  “E-Day? You mean D-Day?”

  “No. September 4, 1957. They called it E-Day. It was the day the Edsel was unveiled at Ford dealerships across the country. So, my grandfather couldn’t resist. Grandma didn’t like the name at all.”

  “I can understand why.”

  “But she finally gave in.”

  “Too bad the Edsel ended up being such a dud.”

  “It wasn’t really a dud. It just had some problems. Plus—the country was going into a recession. It was a bad year for car sales across the board. But the Edsel did have some great new features, like self-adjusting brakes—which we still have on cars today,” he said proudly.

  “Wow, you’re just full of all these car facts, Honey. I had no idea.”

  “Go ahead—make fun. But I used to love hearing Uncle Ed talk about this stuff.”

  “Well, I can’t wait to meet him.”

  **********

  E. Z. Bender was waiting in the parking lot of Angie’s Country Fried Two-Step restaurant when Sondra drove up, and got out of her car. “This better not be a waste of time.”

  “Well, you said you wanted to find some more regular gigs for us. And this place is pretty cool, and it does a lot of business.”

  “And they only have a band for weekends, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, let’s give it a shot.”

  They walked through the door and looked around. Sondra was impressed that most of the tables were occupied on a Saturday at 1:00—considering the lousy location. It was not anywhere near a mall or a shopping center. And the business across the street was an eyesore: Edsel Torkman’s Auto Shop. She remembered Edsel. Weird guy.

  “There’s the owner,” said E. Z.

  Angie Silverstern was dressed just like the other waitresses. She took an order and then hurried to the kitchen window to turn it in.

  “Angie?”

  She spun around. “Yes?”

  “Hi. I’m Sondra, and this is E. Z. We need to talk to you.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to come back later. As you can see, we’re very busy right now.”

  “It won’t take long,” said Sondra.

  Angie sensed the woman’s determination. “Okay—but all I can give you is two minutes.”

  “No problem,” said Sondra.

  “Follow me.” Angie led them to her cramped little office. “What’s this about?”

  “My band has been selected as the official band of Billy-Eye’s Arcade and Dance Barn.”

  “Oh—somebody was telling me about that this morning. The whole thing with the Tang.”

  “Yeah, that’s us.”

  “Well, congratulations.”

  “Thanks. And now we’re gonna do you a big favor. We’re gonna be your band twice a week, every week—for only $500 a night.”

  “What? I can’t afford that.”

  “Okay, I get it—you want to negotiate. Fair enough. $400.”

  “No. I don’t need another band. I’ve got the Haystack Fiddlers on weekends, and that’s all I need.”

  Sondra got up in her face. “Just tell me which nights you want us to play.”

  “None.” She saw Sondra’s right arm beginning to tremble, and braced herself for a punch in the face.

  “I don’t think you’re understanding me,” said Sondra.

  “Oh, she’s understanding you alright.” Edsel was in the doorway, behind Sondra and E. Z. “Now guh-guh-get out of here!”

  Same old weirdo, thought Sondra. She had forgotten about the stutter. “Whatever you say, Edseloser.” She sneered at him as she slowly turned, and then strode out.

  “And I’d better not ever suh-see you in here aguh-aguh.” He took a breath. “Again.” His stuttering always kicked in at the worst times.

  E. Z. had not moved. She just stood there staring—first at Edsel, then at Angie.

  What’s her problem, thought Edsel. He started to yell at her, but caught himself. He was surprised by her kind eyes.

  E. Z. suddenly turned rushed out of the room.

  He turned to Angie. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine, Edsel. Thanks.” She walked over to him, and gave him a tight hug.

  “Be careful. You’re gonna get grease on your clothes.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Angie never hugged him like this. It felt so good. Maybe this was the perfect time to tell her his true feelings.

  “Angie?” One of the waitresses called to her from just outside the doorway. “Sorry. But it’s Mr. Philbert again. He said his steak was overcooked, and he’s not going to pay for it.”

  “I’m coming,” said Angie, still in his arms.

  Every fiber of his body screamed for him to kiss her.

  “I’ve got to get back,” she said.

  **********

  “I’m sorry,” said E. Z.

  “No problem,” said Sondra, opening her car door. “She’ll come around.”

  “She doesn’t want us.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I could convince her…if it weren’t for him.”

  “So, we’ll just look for something else.”

  “See you in a little while. Don’t be late. We’ve got our first full show tonight. And we’re gonna knock ‘em dead, right?”

  “Right,” said E. Z., smiling.

  Sondra backed her car out. As she pulled onto the road, she eyed Edsel’s shop with contempt. “The city of Orange will be much better off when you’re dead and buried, Old Man.”

  11 - UNCLE ED

  “Come on, Craig, you’ve got to get up!” Lenny banged on his brother’s bedroom door. “It’s 1:30.”

  Craig jumped out of bed. His throbbing head made him wish he hadn’t. He opened the door just a crack. His voice sounded tired and hoarse. “Stop it. I’m up.”

  Lenny tried to get a peek. “You got a woman in there?” he said, grinning.

  “None of your business. And keep your voice down.”

  “Where did you go last night? I thought you were right behind me. I called your cell. Why didn’t you answer?”

  “I needed to think, so I went for a drive.”

  “And picked up a hooker?”

  “Again—it’s none of your business.”

  “Well, hurry up. Daddy said he’d see us at The Barn at 2:00.”

  “You go on. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Craig…“

  “Go. I’ll be there.”

  After Craig shut the door, Lenny put his ear up to it, and listened for a woman’s voice.

  Craig hit the door with his fist.

  Lenny’s head bounced off the door. “Ouch!”

  “Go!”

  Craig knew he needed to hurry. He didn’t want to make Billy-Eye mad. But he had to take just a few more seconds to admire Cindy’s s
exy naked body, while she lay sleeping in his bed. He wanted to, but he couldn’t—because she was not there. He had been with her in his dreams all night long. No wonder he’d slept so late.

  **********

  Edsel kept his old cassette player turned down low, so he could hear when someone came into his shop. Most people didn’t bother to call him on the phone. They knew he wouldn’t answer it unless he happened to be on a break. If you wanted Edsel to work on your car, it was best to just bring it in.

  His shop had an in-floor hydraulic lift, which had broken down over a year ago. Angie had been pleading with him to buy a new one, to no avail. To him, it would be a waste of money. He had a perfectly good portable hydraulic lift, and 36-inch creeper. A creeper is a flat board on wheels, with padding and a small built-in pillow.

  He didn’t mind rolling under cars to work on them. He explained to Angie that he enjoyed being able to do some of his work lying down. His feet got sore when he had to stand on the hard concrete all day. A couple of times she had found him asleep under a car. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t getting paid by the hour.

  Edsel was working under a 1972 Impala, replacing the starter, when he heard somebody come into the shop. “Hello? Who’s there?”

  “Uncle Ed?”

  “Greg?” He rolled out from under the car, jumped up and wiped his hands on a rag. He grabbed Greg’s hand, and shook it hard.

  Greg had forgotten about Uncle Ed’s vise-like grip.

  “And this must be Cynthia.”

  “Hi.” Cynthia smiled and shook his hand. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t believe everything Knuckle-Banger tells you.”

  “Knuckle-Banger?” She snickered. “You didn’t tell me you had a nickname, Honey.”

  Another thing Greg had forgotten. “Yeah. When Uncle Ed and I were working on my old Thunderbird I’d be pulling on a wrench with all my might, and it would slip off, and I’d bust my knuckles.”

  “He did it a lot,” added Ed. “Probably lost a half-pint of blood in this shop.”

  “But only Uncle Ed is allowed to call me that. You don’t need to tell anybody else about it.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Cynthia. “I think your choir members might get a kick out of it.”

  Greg grimaced. But he knew she was joking. At least he hoped so. “Everything going okay, Uncle Ed?”

  “Yep. I’ve got more work than I can handle. One of these days I’m gonna have to turn somebody away—send them to some other mechanic,” said Edsel.

  “Well, that’s great.” Greg paused. “Have you had that talk with Angie yet?”

  Cynthia was surprised to see Edsel’s face turn red.

  “No. But I will.”

  “Well, if you need my help—“

  “—no, that’s okay. I’m gonna do it.”

  “You’ve got until we go home tomorrow night,” said Greg. “Or I’m going to tell her myself.”

  “I’m gonna do it.”

  “Good. How about tomorrow night, the four of us have dinner together? Are the Haystack Fiddlers still playing at Angie’s on Sunday nights?”

  “Sure are.”

  “Great. You’ll like them,” said Greg to Cynthia. “They’re a local Country and Bluegrass band.”

  “Sounds like fun,” she said.

  “Well, I’d better get back to work,” said Edsel. “I promised Mrs. Jennings her car would be ready to go by 4:00.”

  “Okay,” said Greg. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Bye,” said Cynthia. “It was nice to meet you.”

  “Me too,” said Edsel, as he lay down on the creeper, and rolled under the Impala. “And don’t forget, Greg.”

  “What?” Greg was holding the door open for Cynthia.

  “Fly the rain!” said Edsel.

  “Fly the rain!” said Greg.

  As they were walking to the car, Cynthia said, “What does that mean?”

  “To be honest, I’m not quite sure.”

  “Then why did you say it?”

  “It’s just something Uncle Ed likes to say. I think it means ‘Have a great day,’ or ‘Go for it,’ or something like that.”

  “You never asked him?”

  “Well, at first I thought it was something I was supposed to already know. Like when the doctor says, ‘You know why you got that rash, right?’ You’d rather just pretend like you knew. Anyway, after a while I was too embarrassed to admit that I didn’t know what it meant. And I never heard him say it to anyone else, so I couldn’t ask them either.”

  “He only said it to you?”

  “Yeah. And for a while I was afraid it meant something…sexual.”

  “No wonder you were afraid to ask.”

  “Yeah. But then I realized I was just being silly. He’s not like that.”

  “Tell you what—tomorrow night I’ll ask him.”

  “No, that’s okay. I’ve gone this many years without knowing. It’s no big deal.”

  **********

  “Norma! Somebody’s knocking on the front door. Can’t you hear?” Ralph Tenorly was sitting in his favorite chair, a few feet from the door, watching a baseball game on TV.

  “I’m coming,” said Norma, in a singsong voice. She walked in from the kitchen, through living room, and opened the front door. “Greg! Come on in. And you must be Cynthia. Oh, she’s beautiful, Greg. You’re a lucky man. A very lucky man.”

  Ralph didn’t get up. He barely looked away from the game as they walked in. “Hello.”

  “Sweetie, this is my dad’s new wife, Norma. And this is my dad, Ralph.”

  “Hi, Norma.”

  Ralph forced himself to stand up and shake Cynthia’s hand. “How are you?”

  “Fine, Sir. I’m glad to finally meet you,” said Cynthia.

  “Norma’s right. You’re quite a looker.”

  “Thanks,” said Cynthia. She’d heard it her entire life, although rarely in those exact words. But she never let it go to her head. She was no more responsible for her natural beauty than a tall person is for their height. But a nice compliment was always appreciated. Maybe Greg had exaggerated. Ralph didn’t seem so bad.

  “So, how did you get mixed up with this do-gooder?”

  “Actually,” she looked at Greg, “this do-gooder saved my life.”

  “Really? Y’all sit down and tell us all about it,” said Norma.

  “How’s your Uncle Edsel?” said Ralph.

  Greg and Cynthia looked at each other. Greg said, “How did you—“

  “—how did I know you went by to see him? Your wife’s got grease on her hand.”

  “Where?” Cynthia looked for it.

  “On the edge of your little finger,” said Ralph.

  “Let me get you a paper towel,” said Norma, rushing into the kitchen.

  “So, how is the old nutcase?” Greg’s dad liked referring to Edsel as ‘old,’ even though Ed was twenty-five years younger than him. Ralph had never shown his brother-in-law any respect. At the time Ralph married Barbara Torkman, her kid brother was in the first grade. Ralph was even more cruel than Edsel’s mean classmates—endlessly picking on the stuttering child.

  “He’s doing fine,” said Greg. “But he’s not a nutcase.”

  “Sure he is,” said Ralph.

  “Well, it seems like he’s doing pretty well. He’s got plenty of business from what I understand. He must be doing something right.”

  “Yeah. You know why he’s got all that business? He’s still charging 1980’s prices. That’s why people take their cars to him—he’s cheap. Don’t ask me how he’s paying the bills.”

  Norma handed Cynthia a paper towel, and Cynthia wiped the grease off her hand.

  “I tried to help him, you know,” said Ralph. “He could have come to work with me at the shipyard. He would have made a good living there. At least you gave it a try.”

  Cynthia looked at Greg.

  “He couldn’t hack it though,” said Ralph. “Greg
was just too soft to do manual labor.”

  “I was eighteen years old,” said Greg. “And that woman they had me working with had the trashiest mouth I’ve ever heard. I just couldn’t take that.”

  Ralph chuckled. “Yeah, Connie was a little rough around the edges alright. But she was a woman. All you would have had to do was cuss her out a couple of times. Then she would showed you some respect.”

  “I don’t do that,” said Greg.

  “Of course you don’t,” said Ralph. “You wouldn’t cuss if your life depended on it. Because that would be wrong, wouldn’t it? And you never do anything wrong. You’re perfect.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your holier-than-thou face.”

  Norma jumped in. “Okay, boys, that’s enough.”

  “We need to go,” said Greg, rising to his feet.

  Cynthia stood up.

  “We’ll see you tomorrow at the party,” said Greg, as he hurried out the door with Cynthia.

  Greg dreaded having to attend his dad’s stupid birthday party tomorrow.

  But for now, he would put his dad out of his mind. He and Cynthia were headed for their hotel room. And tonight, there would be no midnight interruptions from his mother-in-law.

  12 - EDSEL AND ANGIE

  “Join me for dinner?”

  “Sure.” Angie spun around, expecting to see Edsel in his overalls. But tonight, he was wearing slacks and a polo shirt—which, for Edsel, was formal attire.

  “What’s the matter? You’re looking at me funny.”

  “Well, you’re just so…dressed up. What’s the occasion?”

  “It’s Saturday night, and I’m having dinner with Miss Angie.”

  She hadn’t been a ‘miss’ since she was in her twenties, but she thought it was sweet when Edsel called her that. “Okay.” But she knew there must be more to it. Edsel had never dressed up like this to come over for dinner. He usually just washed up a little, and stayed in his work clothes.

  “This time you won’t have to wipe down the chair after I leave.”

  “I don’t do that.”

  “Yes, you do. I saw you the other night. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t come in here when I’m all greasy.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”