by Ellle Parker
Since I currently had no office, we’d set up my desk and chair in the corner of the living room, with the filing cabinets next to it. I got myself a cup of coffee, turned on the stereo, and sat down, pulling a box full of assorted desk crap to my feet. I stuck the pen cup and stapler on the desk and started to sort through the folders and paperwork I’d stuffed in there in a hurry. I spent about an hour humming along to the oldies station while I worked, setting aside a few things for billing, and filing the rest.
Next, I set up my laptop and printer, put the “In” and “Out” boxes where they belonged, and arranged file and mail sorters. It felt good to get back to normal. When I was done I had a clean desk and a stack of envelopes to mail.
I was getting up to change clothes, when my phone rang. The call was from Ernie Schmendrick of Ernie’s Used Autos. I do repossessions for the guy, and he usually calls every couple of months with a new batch of cars for me to fetch.
I flipped open the phone. “Hey, Ernie, how’s it goin’?”
“Not bad,” Ernie said. “I got a handful of jobs for you if you want ’em. You could stop in for the paperwork this afternoon. I was hoping maybe you can run some of these down for me tonight?”
“Probably. Work’s light right now. If I can get Seth, we should be able to pull in a few for you.”
“Great. See you later then.” Ernie hung up, and I shut my phone and headed for the bedroom.
When I went over to Ed’s to see if Seth would be free, he was on his back under a Ford Fairlane, growling a lot of extremely rude things about the placement of starter bolts. He swore loudly and whacked the underside of the car with his wrench. I have it on good authority he doesn’t treat Matilda like that, and I think it’s best for everyone if I just choose to believe it.
“Hey ugly,” I called, leaning on the workbench with my hands in my pockets. “You wanna make some money tonight?”
“I keep telling you, Dino,” he said from under the car, “I’m not that kind of boy.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“Come on, now…the rumor about the three sailors and the goat is lies, I tell you, all lies.”
“That goat happens to be a very good friend of mine.”
“You motherlovin’ whore!” Seth snarled and his hand appeared to feel around for a different wrench.
“Strange, that’s exactly what the goat called you.”
“Fuck off, Dino.”
Seth’s sense of humor fades quick when he’s frustrated, so I cut the jokes and said, “Ernie called me a while ago. He’s got some repos for us, if you’re interested.”
“Yeah, I could probably pitch in,” he said, gritting his teeth. His feet scrabbled at the floor like he was having a seizure, then he gave a loud whoop. “Got’cha, you little steel bastard.”
He rolled out from under the car, holding the starter on his chest, and grinned at me. He set it aside and grabbed a rag, wiping his hands while he got up. “Easy ones or not?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ve still gotta’ get the paperwork from him and see how many I can track down. I just wanted to find out if you were free. I can give you a call later with the details.”
“Sure thing, dude.”
Doing repossessions is good work and fairly easy to get. I know guys who make an entire career out of it. It’s dirty work and can be dangerous, but at a hundred and fifty bucks a pop, it pays well. Seth and I can do three or four of them in a night, depending on where they are and how much trouble we have. He’s invaluable to the process, and he’s got the tow truck if we need it, so we split the repo fees. We also list Ed’s as the actual repo agent because it looks more official that way.
Ernie’s Used Autos is a decent sized dealer over in St. Pete, and he carries cars of all shapes, sizes, and price ranges. He’s also willing to do a lot of the financing through his own office, and because of that, he finds himself in need of repossessing vehicles on a fairly regular basis.
I parked Matilda on the side street across from the lot and walked over, scanning the rows for Ernie. I found him showing the virtues of a Volkswagen Bug to a pair of pretty young ladies, and he was really working it. I set down my briefcase and leaned back against a Chrysler, crossing my arms over my chest. It could be a while.
Ernie’s a pudgy guy with thick, black hair he wears on the long side, so it falls into his eyes a lot. He has a classic salesman personality, but possesses a ring of sincerity most of them don’t have. He’s an okay guy, and I like him. We meet up for beers once in a while.
After a few minutes, the girls both shook his hand, and seemed to be giving every indication of planning to come back, judging by the smile on Ernie’s face as he walked up to me.
“Dino, what’s with you, man? Why don’t you ever park your car in the lot? It hurts me, it really does.” Ernie clapped me on the shoulder and grinned.
“I don’t want your clientele drooling all over my baby. Besides, she’d outclass everything you got. I’m just tryin’ to be considerate here.”
“You’re a true gentleman, Dino. They just don’t make ’em like you anymore.”
I laughed. “What have you got for me?”
“Come on into the office,” Ernie said, nodding toward the tiny building in the center of the lot.
“How’s business?” I asked as we walked.
“Not too shabby really. We’ve been doing pretty brisk sales, and not having too much trouble with the loans. No more than usual, I guess, and that’s about what we could hope for. It’s good, real good.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Ernie held the door open and I went in, crossing the sales floor to his private office in the back corner. The place smelled like tire rubber and old coffee, and everything was covered in a thin film of the particular kind of grime that comes from being around cars. Seth’s office had it in spades.
I shut the door while Ernie went behind his desk and pulled a stack of manila folders off the top of a filing cabinet. He leafed through them. “There are a couple of newer cars here that came with key codes, so that’s nice, and this one I happen to have a spare key on file for. The rest of ’em you’re gonna have to crack.”
“Thanks, Ernie,” I said, taking the files as he handed them over. I took a quick peek at them myself and slipped them into my briefcase. “I appreciate the business.”
“Don’t thank me,” he said, holding up his hands. “You’re doing me a big favor. I don’t have anybody around here I could send out for this kind of thing.”
“We’ll pick up as many as we can tonight, and I’ll stop over tomorrow to give you a report.”
“Thanks, man.” Ernie held the door and we left, heading for the front. “Hey,” he said, “Did I hear you lost your office recently?”
“Yeah, that was a complete screw over, but I got a line on a new place, so it’s all good.”
“Excellent, excellent. I knew you’d land on your feet.”
We said goodbye and I went out to the car, tossing my briefcase in the back seat.
Next came the work of tracking down the cars and planning how to approach each one. State laws say you have to conduct repossessions in a peaceful manner. That’s all fine and dandy until someone decides to take offense to a couple of guys making off with his car minus the benefit of introductions.
The best way to avoid unnecessary bloodshed is to get the car when the owner’s not around. Most of the time, this means taking the thing in the middle of the night, which is actually kind of fun. I have to admit I get a very juvenile thrill out of the whole cloak-and-dagger operation of sneaking onto someone’s property and stealing their car.
That’s what repo work is, a legal steal.
We swipe the cars and call it in to the cops at the first opportunity, then the cops have the fun of notifying the former owner their car’s been repossessed. We send out a letter and inventory list on Ernie’s letterhead the next day, telling them where they can pick up any personal effects.
Cha
pter 5
Back home, I spent an hour in my apartment running title searches on the files Ernie gave me, seven in all. A couple were out of state, and I’d either deal with those later or kick them back to Ernie who had someone he could call for longer range jobs. The rest, I was able to get up-to-date information for.
I packed the information into my briefcase and went to the bedroom to change into old jeans and a sweatshirt. Out on the street, I opened Matilda’s trunk and made sure I had everything we’d need. There were two flashlights, which I tested, a pack of extra batteries, the slim-jim for breaking into cars we didn’t have keys for, mace for dogs, and a fully charged stun gun for unpleasant human beings. I carry a gun too, but that’s more for show. Waving around a Glock is actually far more peaceful than zapping the shit out of some guy on his front lawn. The State of Florida disapproves of that in most cases, so I try to avoid it.
It took me about an hour and a half to drive around town and check out the cars so I could decide which ones we’d try for first. Three of them weren’t there, but I found the addresses and scoped out the terrain. The other two were parked out front, and I hoped they’d still be there later on.
When I had the legwork done, I stopped off at Hamm’s Cafe and picked up two huge bacon cheeseburgers, two orders of onion rings, and a six-pack of Coke. Then I headed for Ed’s Garage.
Seth was nowhere to be seen when I went inside, so I set the food on the workbench and took a look in the office. He wasn’t there either. The only thing that appeared to be in the shop was the Fairlane. I figured he must have gone up to his apartment, and I headed for the side door.
I was walking alongside the car, when a hand shot out and clamped around my ankle. I just about hit the roof. When my heart started beating again, I swore loudly, and yanked my leg free. “Get your ass out from under that car!”
Seth rolled out, laughing like a hyena. “I’ve never heard anyone shriek like that.” He lay on the floor clutching his sides. “Are you sure you’re a badass private eye?”
“Asshole. You want me to kick your scrawny little ass to prove it?”
“I am not scrawny.”
“And I do not shriek.”
Seth lost it all over again. After a minute, he stopped and said, “Hey, I smell onion rings.”
“That would be my dinner.” I wasn’t really pissed at him, but I couldn’t let him get away with it. I had to yank his chain at least a little. “You wanna grab me some napkins while you’re upstairs scraping Cheetos off the rug or whatever you plan on eating?”
I kicked him in the ass and went to get my food and a can of Coke. There’s an old bench seat from a Ford pick-up sitting on the floor in the corner of the garage, with a couple of milk crates for tables. I sat down and flipped open the lid, inhaling the scent of fried things and moaning loudly.
“You’re such a jerk,” Seth said as he got up and brushed off his hands and hair. “Here I’m gonna work all night for you, and you gotta’ be flaunting your hamburger in front of me.”
“Yeah, well, I think the burger fairy left you a surprise on your workbench.”
“Oh?” Seth came around the back of the car and smiled broadly. “Sweet. Thanks, dude.”
“You’re welcome.”
He took a couple of plastic cups off the beat up old refrigerator at the end of the bench and filled them with ice from the freezer, then came to join me, handing me a cup and opening up his food.
“So, what did you find out?” he asked, stuffing the cheeseburger in his mouth. He’d barely started chewing when he tried to cram an onion ring in with it.
“Were you born in a fucking barn?” I asked.
“Yefff.”
I shook my head. “Okay, we’ve got five possibles tonight, and I have keys for three of them. I scoped out all the locations and there’s nothing tricky at any of them. I’ve seen two. The others weren’t there at the time.”
Seth somehow managed to swallow and asked, “Anything fun?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” I said, grinning at him. “There is one I think you’re gonna like. Seventy-eight Corvette. Sold for a pretty penny so it must be in good shape.”
Seth groaned and turned huge doe eyes on me. “You’re gonna let me drive that one, aren’t you?”
“Sure, why not? It’s your ass on the line out there too.”
“Yes!” Seth pumped his fist and went back to attacking his burger like a wild animal.
“But I gotta’ warn you, it’s in a pretty dicey neighborhood, so we’re going to have to do it carefully.”
“Fine with me,” he said, swallowing a mouthful of onion ring and taking a swig of Coke. “I have zero interest in getting my ass shot off.”
I was starving and concentrated on eating while we sat in a comfortable silence. When Seth finished, he got up and dumped his garbage in a rusty trash barrel standing against the wall. He came back holding a newsprint Auto Trader folded open.
“Check it out,” he said, dropping back onto the seat next to me and holding the magazine in front of my face.
I took it from him and ate my last onion ring. “Which one am I lookin’ at?”
“That one.” He tapped his finger on an ad for a 1972 Chevy Chevelle, dark orange with white stripes. It was selling for a song. Seth had been in the market for a muscle car to work on for a while, but hadn’t found anything that caught his eye.
“Nice.” The photos were small and grainy, but from what I could tell, it seemed to be in pretty good shape, body-wise. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Doesn’t run at all. The guy said the engine’s seized up, and it’s been sitting in storage for about four years now.”
“You go look at it yet?”
“No, I just called on it today.” Seth took the magazine from me and leaned back against the seat gazing at it like it was a porno mag. “Thought you might want to take a run out there with me if you’re free some evening this week. Overhauling that engine would be a fuck of a lot of work, but what a blast.”
I got up and threw away my garbage, brushing my hands off. “Yeah, I could do that. She’s a beaut. I think you might be on to something there.”
We had some time to kill before dark, so we sat around talking about the Chevelle, about Matilda, and about the schedule for the evening. It was a pleasant way to spend the time, and it left me relaxed and ready for an unpredictable night of work.
That’s the thing about Seth. His antics are amusing and he’s got a lot of assets that make him a useful friend, but what I like most about him is how well we get along. It’s always comfortable being with him, and given the precious few people I actually like to be around, that’s important to me.
Around nine thirty, we got everything we needed out of Matilda and loaded into Seth’s tow truck. I guess technically it would be Ed’s tow truck, but Seth was shaping up to be owner of the place through sheer habit if nothing else. I had a feeling the old guy was planning to leave it to him when he died. If he ever did.
Seth climbed behind the wheel and we took off. We drove out to the farthest car on our list, taking a route past each of the others to check on them. We had gotten pretty good at this and had a solid routine down.
Three of the five possible cars were at home, leaving only a Trailblazer and the Corvette unaccounted for. The Corvette didn’t surprise me in the least. I figured we’d have to wait until pretty damn late to get a shot at it. I really hoped we weren’t going to have to stay up until dawn to bring it in.
Reconnaissance was done in half an hour and we parked up the street from a newer model Mercury Sable. This was one of the cars I’d been able to have a key made for, and I didn’t expect any trouble claiming it.
Seth leaned on the steering wheel. “I’ll keep watch until you’re off and follow you to Ernie’s. Let’s hope they’re all this easy tonight.”
“No shit. Don’t count your chickens, though. See you on the other side.”
He grinned at me, and I jumped out of the truck.
Walking casually across the street, I reached into my pocket and took out a penlight. I had a folded copy of the purchase agreement and used it to check the VIN number before I unlocked the car and got in. Smooth as butter, and not an ounce of trouble.
I drove it to Ernie’s and parked in the back of the lot, where he’d made room for us. Seth rolled right in behind me.
“Did you call it in?” he asked as I climbed back into the truck.
“Yep, on the way over. I told her we’d have a few more, so they’re expecting it.”
The next one on the list was an ’85 Chevy Caprice. Seth was disgusted. “Who the hell would take out a loan to buy a fuckin’ Caprice?”
With no keys, we had to pop the lock and tow it back to Ernie’s, but our luck was running good for the evening, and we didn’t raise any eyebrows with that one either.
The third car went just as smoothly, and the next time we checked on the Trailblazer, it was finally parked in the driveway. The bedroom light of the house was still on, so we sat in the truck until it went out twenty minutes later.
“Should we go for it?” Seth asked.
“Eh, let’s give it another ten. Maybe they’ll fall asleep fast.”
“Come on, Dino, don’t be a pussy, we’ve got keys for this one. Just go get it and let’s get the fuck out of here.”
I scowled at him. “I am not being a pussy, I just don’t wanna push our luck. We’ve had a good evening, and we still have the dangerous one to do. I think it’s worth taking a few extra minutes on this one.”
I’ve had it happen a couple times, where I’m sitting in the driver’s seat of some car cranking the key while the engine hacks away, not quite catching, and watching the house light up out of the corner of my eye. That’s when the thrill fades right off.
“Yeah, okay, Grandpa.”
“Here’s an idea,” I said, holding up the slim-jim. “Why don’t you shove this right up your ass? That should keep you amused for a while.”
“Well, I would, except that I’ll be needing it to get into the ’Vette later on.”