Like Coffee and Doughnuts

by Ellle Parker

  “Speaking of that, are you gonna be able to hotwire it?”

  “Sure, no sweat,” he said. “Easy as pie.”

  “If you can’t get it, you say so and we’ll hoist it up on the hook. I don’t want to be screwing around there any longer than necessary. I did a little checking on this Darryl Serrano, and he’s not opposed to causing trouble, if you know what I mean.”

  Seth raised his eyebrows. “Does he have a rap sheet?”

  “Nothing huge. A few arrests and a little jail time. He’s an idiot, and he pulls stupid shit like speeding and reckless driving after already losing his license. He’s just the type of moron to stand on his front step and blast you with a shotgun. Do not fuck around on this one.”

  “It’ll be fine. This wouldn’t be the first time everything went right, you know.”

  “And it wouldn’t be the first time we got our asses handed to us either,” I reminded him. Seth’s not stupid, but he can be reckless a lot of the time, and I had a feeling the lure of driving that flashy car was going to make him take chances.

  I checked my watch and figured enough time had gone by. The sooner we got this one, the sooner we could get the ’Vette out of the way and go home.

  Snatching the SUV was as slick as the rest, and soon I was parking it at Ernie’s while I put in a call to the front desk of the cop shop. I gave her the scoop and let her know we had one more to go for the night. She wished me luck and hung up.

  I walked up to the truck as Seth came to a stop for me and got in. “Should we go find you a Corvette?” I asked.

  “I have to use the can first,” he said. “And we could stand to get more gas before we finish. It would really suck if the truck died right in the middle of this dude’s street.”

  “Yeah, you could say that.”

  We drove across the street to the Hess station to fill up and use the bathroom, and I got a cup of coffee. I refused to let Seth get one of his caffeine bomb, battery acid drinks. The last thing in the world I needed was for him to slam twenty-seven grams of sugar before taking off in a hot Corvette.

  When we got back in the truck, I took the driver’s side so Seth could be ready to jump out and hit the car running. Before I started it up, I went over the file with him again so he was sure of the details and had the VIN number.

  “All right,” I said, pulling out of the gas station. “Let’s get this done. You be careful.”

  Seth smiled broadly at me. He’s actually got a Cheshire grin when he smiles like that, and a couple of his teeth are pointy, so the whole effect is a little feral. It’s weirdly charming, but it often spells trouble.

  “I am not shittin’ you, Seth,” I said, pointing at him. “We do this quick no matter how we have to, and we get the hell out of there.”

  He nodded. “I hear you, Dino.”

  We got to Monroe Street and circled the lot of Serrano’s tiny apartment building. The car wasn’t hard to spot. It was cherry red, sitting low on the ground and gleaming in the parking lot lights. I heard Seth moan quietly, and I turned to stare at him.

  “Fuck, Dino, I know, all right?” He held up his hands like an exasperated teenager. “I swear, if it doesn’t start right off I’ll give you the sign and we’ll tow it.”

  I nodded and moved the truck to where I’d be able to back straight in if we needed. We decided since this was the last one, and because it was so flashy, we’d park it behind Ed’s for the night and throw a cover over it. I wasn’t comfortable with leaving it at Ernie’s, because when this guy found it missing, he would certainly come looking for it.

  Seth got out of the truck and shut the door quietly, taking the slim-jim, a screwdriver, and his pocket knife with him. I watched him crouch low and trot over to the car. He checked the VIN number against the paperwork, and went to work on the lock. Less than two minutes later, he climbed in the car, half the battle won.

  I had the truck idling and gave it a soft rev so if I had to move fast, it wouldn’t stall out. I kept my eyes glued to the back window of the ’Vette, where I could just make out Seth moving around inside. I waited a few more minutes and checked my watch. Nothing happened.

  “Come on,” I muttered through clenched teeth.

  I was about to make my move when the car finally roared to life. It was loud as hell. If we hadn’t been noticed before, we certainly would be now. Seth clearly understood the same thing, because he didn’t bother backing out slow and quiet, he just whipped it out of the parking space and wheeled smoothly around to the parking lot entrance.

  I turned and stepped on the clutch to pull out after him, when a blurred figure exploded out the door of the apartment building and streaked past me. It was a young guy, mid-twenties or so, with short blond hair and a button-down shirt only half on, flapping around him as he ran. I guessed this was Darryl Serrano. He hollered after the Corvette, using quite a lot of colorful words, but his hands were empty, which was a relief. If he had a gun on him, he’d have pulled it by now.

  What he did next surprised me more than a gun would have. He was really moving and started to chase down the car. I pulled out on the street in time to see him catch Seth at the intersection when Seth slowed to make the turn.

  Darryl launched himself into the air and landed on the hood of the ’Vette in a flying tackle, screaming and pounding on the glass. Seth snapped the front of the car toward the curb and stomped on the breaks, rolling the guy off onto the grass, then streaked away with a squeal of tires. I imagined he enjoyed the hell out of that, and I didn’t expect him to sleep for two days.

  With Seth out of danger, and long gone, I drove along slowly as if I was a mere passerby. I kept an eye on Serrano while he picked himself up and limped back toward the apartment building, swearing and waving his arms. He picked up a beer can and hurled it at the block of mailboxes on the lawn.

  Once he was inside, there wasn’t any reason for me to hang around, so I stepped on the gas and drove back to the garage. I wasn’t the least bit surprised I was the first one to get there, and I already had the car cover out and ready when Seth finally pulled in, some kind of heavy bass beat making the windows throb.

  He didn’t get out of the car right away, and I could see him inside thrashing around to the music, so I supposed we were going to wait out the end of the song. I leaned against the door frame and folded my arms over my chest, grateful I was on this side of the glass.

  When the song ended, he drove the car around back where we’d decided to stash it. I followed him and met him climbing out of it.

  “Fuck, Dino, is that a sweet ride,” Seth said. He grabbed an edge of the cover and helped me drape it over the car. He was practically bouncing. “Are you absolutely sure we have to give it back?”

  “Ah, that would be a definite yes,” I said, grinning. “We have to give it back. Trust me when I tell you you’re going to like the Chevelle a whole lot better. Personally, I think it completely outclasses this thing even with a fried engine.”

  “Yeah?”

  “No question.”

  We got the Corvette stowed away, and Seth was still crashing around as if he had downed a can full of sugar. I was extremely grateful I’d pulled rank on that one.

  “Driving that car really got you wired, didn’t it?” I asked, watching him shadowbox a Firestone Tire sign and then kick it right over.

  “Are you kidding? I’ve had a boner for half an hour. I’m completely jazzed right now.”

  I had to ask.

  Since it was only one thirty and the paperwork could wait until morning, I said, “Well, you’re gonna have to handle the hard-on yourself, but I’d be happy to take you down to the Oar House and buy you a few beers to settle you down.”

  He gave me an absolutely predatory smile. It made me a little weak in the knees, and I was prepared for one of his offhanded come-ons, but instead he just said, “You’re on,” and jogged halfway down the sidewalk before coming back to walk with me.

  Chapter 6

  I woke up the next mornin
g feeling moderately hung over, and pissed when I realized I’d left Matilda at the garage and was going to have to walk to Seth’s in that state. My new place was only eight blocks or so from him, but there’s no amount of walking I want to do on a bright and sunny morning with a hangover.

  Turns out, it had taken quite a lot of beer to calm Seth down, and not only had we closed out the Oar House, but we’d walked over to the Backroom Bar which tends to do a lively after hours business. Seth and the bartender dug out a pile of bartending guides she’d printed off the internet, and amused themselves by making every drink that had a dirty name. I wasn’t allowed to leave until I’d thoroughly discussed the merits of Sex on the Beach versus a Screaming O. Since I chose to be a good sport about the whole thing, they rewarded me with an amaretto Sweet Pussy, which was actually pretty good.

  My cellphone was on the nightstand next to me, so I grabbed it, figuring I could call Seth and make him bring the car to me, but it went straight to voicemail. Irritating little shit.

  I crawled out of bed and into the shower where I washed off the bar smell and cigarette smoke. Then I went to the kitchen and brewed coffee while I dug out the biggest mug I could find. If I had to take the walk of shame, I was doing it armed with caffeine.

  Unfortunately, I ran out three-quarters of the way there, and there’s no decent coffee to be had in that part of town, so my mood hadn’t lifted any by the time I climbed the wooden steps and beat on Seth’s door.

  He wasn’t answering that, either.

  We had a long Saturday ahead of us, which included inventories of the repossessions and cleaning out the storefront, and I was in no mood to piss around. I pounded on the door until I heard crashing and groaning inside, and Seth pulled it open, staring blearily at me. He had on jeans and nothing else.

  “Fuck, is it morning already?”

  “It is, and I have no coffee, and we have a lot of work to do, Red, so wake up. You’ve got only yourself to thank for the state you’re in.”

  “Well, aren’t you Mr. Sunshine this morning,” he deadpanned, holding the door open for me.

  “You can thank yourself for that too. I would have been perfectly happy with beer.”

  “Hey, I don’t remember anyone pourin’ the stuff down your throat, man.” Seth grabbed a T-shirt out of a pile, sniffed it, and pulled it on.

  “I think there’s probably a lot of things you don’t remember, because that is exactly what you tried to do. My damn shirt was sticky when I got home.”

  He grinned obscenely and said, “Oh yeah, that must have been the Blow Job.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start. It was cute last night, but now? Not so much.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Seth took me by the arm and dragged me into the kitchenette, pointing over my shoulder. “Look…coffee. How much do you love me now?”

  “You don’t have a coffee maker,” I said, even as I was staring at a shiny white KitchenAid with a pot of decent smelling coffee steaming away on it.

  “It’s new. It has a timer and everything. I don’t know shit about grinding up beans or whatever the hell you do with them, so you have to suffer with canned coffee, but it’s better than nothing, right?”

  “Yeah, this is great,” I said, pouring some into my cup. “This is remarkably thoughtful for you, I’m impressed.”

  “Ouch, asshole, why don’t you twist the knife a little more.” Seth hopped up on the counter and peeled open a pack of Pop-Tarts, taking a big bite before continuing. “So, what the hell was up with that Serrano dude? I’ve never had anyone try to tackle the fucking car before. Did you see that?”

  “Yeah.” I blew on the coffee and took a sip. “I was going to talk to you about that last night, but you didn’t give me chance. Anyway, I told you I thought that guy was going to be trouble, and I was right. There’s no way he’s going to let this drop. I’m gonna give Ernie a call and warn him as soon as the lot opens, and I think we should be careful when we take the car over there.”

  “Think Ernie’s going to have trouble with him?” Seth asked.

  “Maybe a little, but Ernie’s got insurance for that, and he knows a guy on the police force who’s usually willing to do a few extra drive-bys for anyone who’ll drink beer and watch football with him.”

  “Can I drive it over there?”

  “As long as you promise not to try to jump Ernie afterward. His wife is the jealous kind, and she could totally kick your ass.”

  We went outside to check on the Corvette, which was right where we’d left it, and I called Ernie to give him a report of the previous night’s work. He was thrilled to hear we’d gotten the ’Vette back and said he’d give his pal a call just to be on the safe side.

  When I got off the phone, I found Seth already in it having some kind of religious experience. I rapped on the window. He rolled it down and I said, “Let’s do the inventory and condition report here and then take it over. That’ll be less time we have to hang out at Ernie’s while we do the others. I’d rather not be there if Serrano is gonna come and make trouble.”

  Seth agreed and I went to my car to get the forms out of my briefcase. I gave him a clipboard and the Condition Report form, and took an Inventory Report for myself. I also carried a small cardboard box to collect whatever was inside.

  While I got in and started to go through the glove compartment, Seth moved around the car making note of any damage or modifications. I noted the usual stuff, owner’s manual, tire gauge, registration, spare fuses. Serrano also had a Florida map, Miami map, two Snickers bars and a bunch of matchbooks from a place called The Shark Pond in South Beach. There was a cheap paperback fuck book wedged between the passenger seat and the console, and a silver lighter on the dash.

  “Hey,” said Seth, poking his face in the window. “What’s the odometer reading?”

  I peered at it and read the numbers off.

  “Thanks.”

  In the interest of being thorough, I climbed out of the car so I could check underneath the seats. There was nothing under the passenger seat, but under the driver’s seat I found a small padded envelope, folded in half and wrapped with rubber bands.

  “What the fuck is that?” Seth asked when I stood up, turning it over in my hands.

  “I have no idea,” I said. It was dirty, presumably from riding around on the floor of the car, and contained something fairly bulky.

  I pulled off the rubber bands and unfolded it. There was a return address label from one of those mail order porn places, and a mailing label that was addressed to Serrano, but had a Miami address.

  Seth said, “Oh-ho, have we found Serrano’s sex toy stash? My money’s on leopard print lovecuffs, what do you think?”

  “Lovecuffs?” I asked, casting a sidelong glance at him.

  He shrugged. “I read the catalogs. There’s all kinds of crazy shit in there.”

  “Yeah, ’cause you need that.”

  “Just biding my time, baby…”

  I lifted the envelope flap and looked inside. What I saw was curious in how unremarkable it was.

  “Well?” prodded Seth, trying to see for himself.

  I tipped the contents into my hand. There was a small notebook, also wrapped with a rubber band, a key card, and a set of keys. Just two keys on a plain ring with a green rubber fob advertising Chico’s Car Wash. One was a car key, and the other a small gold one.

  “Well…that’s interesting,” Seth said, picking up the keys and examining them.

  I tucked the envelope under my arm and looked at the notebook. There wasn’t anything special about it I could see. I took the rubber band off and started to flip through it with Seth looking over my shoulder. Most of the pages were blank, but a few had notes on them, and several pages had lists of numbers written in groups.

  “What the fuck?” Seth muttered. “Obviously this stuff means something or he wouldn’t have stashed it under the seat like that.”

  “Yeah, but what?” I mused on it for a few minutes, trying to come up
with a plausible explanation. Most of the information looked like it might be in code, which certainly piqued my curiosity.

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” Seth said, “these keys aren’t for the ’Vette. This one’s new, and it fits a BMW.”

  “I wonder where that car is then.”

  “Good question.”

  “Listen,” I said, ignoring the protest my conscience was making. “Let’s not list this on the inventory, all right? I’d like to have a closer look at it. We can always drop it off with Ernie later, say it fell out of the box on the way over or whatever.”

  “You smelling a mystery here, Nero Wolfe?” Seth joked, elbowing me in the ribs.

  “I’m not Wolfe,” I said. “I’m Archie Goodwin.”

  “Well I’m sure as hell not Wolfe.” Seth looked horrified.

  “No, you’re Fred Durkin.”

  “Who the fuck is Fred Durkin?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You need to read more.”

  “So who is he? Is he hot like me?”

  “Yes. He’s hot like you.”

  “You’re doing that thing with sarcasm again, aren’t you?”

  I smirked and wrapped up the notebook and keys the way we’d found them. Yeah, I know—keeping it was very unprofessional, not to mention stupid, but I was curious as all hell, and I was itching for something a little more intriguing than skip tracing and tracking cheaters.

  Later at Ernie’s, I had already completely inventoried the Caprice, and done the Condition Report before Seth finally rolled in with the hotwired Corvette. It’s a damn fine thing Ernie is a good sport. When Seth still hadn’t shown up fifteen minutes after I arrived, and Ernie was looking a little concerned, I told him I thought Seth might be taking the ’Vette for a test drive. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ernie laugh so hard.

  When Seth did show up, he pulled up next to us and climbed out, giving me a wicked leer and a shit-eating grin. I was shocked to realize I knew damn well he had a hard-on. Ernie tried to give him a sales pitch on the car.