“You guys have someone to come get you?” Nora asked.
“Nope,” Frank said, and Dave O’Connor shook his head.
“I’ve got to get something figured out,” O’Connor said. “Like I told you, I’m in a bit of a hurry. Got a meeting that won’t wait all day for me.”
“A meeting at the Willow?” Frank asked.
“No. I, uh, I’ve got to get to . . . Rhinelander. Little bit of a drive left to make, so, you know, got to figure something out.”
Rhinelander. He’d been westbound on County Y, headed for Rhinelander? That was an interesting route, considering County Y took you out to the Willow, across the dam, and then looped back down to the old highway and into Tomahawk. O’Connor had been driving the exact opposite direction from Rhinelander, and not toward any highway where he could correct his course.
“Any chance you’d have a car you could rent me?” O’Connor asked Nora.
She shot a sideways glance at him. “I don’t rent cars. I fix them.”
“You don’t have anything around the shop? It’d be one day. One day, and I’ll give a couple hundred cash for it. I’ve got to make this meeting.”
Nora let a few cars pass before she answered.
“Only drivable vehicle I could give you—unless you want to drive the tow truck—is a beat-up old Mitsubishi that probably can’t do more than fifty without blowing up.”
“That’s fine. I’ll take it.”
“And if it does blow up on you, I’m certainly not going to take responsibility. I’m doing this as a favor.”
“It’s not a favor. I’ll pay you—”
“You won’t pay me anything. Sounds like you need something to get you to Rhinelander, and the Mitsu will do it. Slowly.”
“I appreciate that,” O’Connor said. “It’ll be a huge help. Save me the time of renting a car, and I don’t have time to waste.”
Something else it would save, Frank thought, staring out at the lumber truck ahead of them, was the process of renting a car. You couldn’t do that with cash—and Mr. Dave O’Connor seemed damn concerned with sticking to cash.
4
__________
Took Nora ten minutes to get Dave O’Connor in and out of the body shop. He had the cash out before she was even in the door, put it in her hand and waved away her offer of a receipt, said he knew she was trustworthy and he was in a hurry, now, could you show me that Mistubishi you were talking about?
So she took him out back and showed him the car, a rusted blue box of a thing they used for errands, running back and forth to the auto parts store. Had four-wheel drive, but that was about it. Windshield wipers were shot—how many times had she asked Jerry to replace them?—and two of the windows hadn’t moved in the better part of a decade. Dave O’Connor looked at it as if it were the next year’s model of his fancy Lexus. Took the keys and tried to press more cash in her hand.
While declining the money for the third time, she realized she was hustling him out of the shop almost as much as he was hustling her, and she knew why. There was something off about this guy, and, yeah, it started with the cash-only thing and the I’m-in-a-big-hurry thing but went beyond those, too. A meeting in Rhinelander? What the hell was he doing on County Y, then? License plate from Florida, no less. And the mannerisms, the tension . . . she pushed it out of her head. He’d given her more than enough money to hold the job, and it didn’t seem likely he was going to dash off and leave his expensive car. If he did, hell, she’d make a fine profit off that. How long did you have to wait to claim a mechanic’s lien?
So she let him take her car and drive off, didn’t fill out any of the standard paperwork, just accepted his money and his promise to return Monday. Even a few months ago she would never have believed she could agree to something as crazy as this, but a few months ago the shop’s debt was merely threatening, not suffocating her in the way that it was now. She stood in the parking lot and watched him go, two grand in cash in her pocket. It was enough to justify the breach of protocol. She was in a dream world when she walked back into the shop, and pulled up with surprise when she saw the young guy standing there, Frank. How old was he, anyhow? Appearance said he’d be a few years her junior, maybe twenty-six, twenty-seven. Acted older, though. Carried himself all steady and sharp-eyed, the way a man who’s seen a lot will do. The way her father had.
“Hey,” she said, and for some reason she tugged off the baseball cap, shook her light brown hair out.
“Hey. You get things settled with that guy?” He stepped closer to her, an easy smile on his face but the eyes not matching it, too thoughtful. A nice-enough-looking guy, runner’s body, good skin. Needed to grow the dark hair out, though, lose that military cut that made him look even younger than he was.
“A pocketful of money to prove it,” she said and gave him one raised eyebrow that made him nod.
“Feel safe about getting that Mitsubishi back?”
She laughed. “If I never see it again, that’ll only save me money.”
“Different sort of guy, wasn’t he?”
“Seemed a little on edge.”
“Uh-huh. Got a gun out of the glove compartment when he was moving his things into your car, too.”
That stopped her. Not just because of the gun, but the way he said it. Relaxed. Casual. And how had he even seen that? When O’Connor was busy switching his gear from the Lexus to the Mitsubishi, she’d been standing right beside him, with Frank all the way back at the shop, leaning against the wall.
“Handgun,” he said. “No big deal, I’m sure. Lots of people carry them.”
She didn’t say anything, just stood beside the door and stared at him.
“Look, I didn’t want to worry you,” he said. “It’s meaningless.”
“I know that. I was just surprised you saw him with it, that’s all. You were standing all the way over—”
“Good eyes. I’ve got good eyes.”
“I guess so.” Pretty eyes, too. Nora always liked blue eyes on a guy with a dark complexion. Something about the contrast. She pulled open the office door, stepped inside with Frank behind her.
“I’ll go back and tow your car in just a minute,” she said. “You know what you’re going to do for a ride?”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“Where were you headed?” If he said Rhinelander, she was going to be awfully uncomfortable.
“The Willow. Staying at a cabin up there. I’ve got some errands to run in town, though, groceries and the like, so I’ll deal with them first.”
“You aren’t going to rent a car?”
“No need. Once I get up there I don’t plan on leaving for a while.”
She pushed her hair back over her ears, the baseball cap still in her left hand. Over Frank’s shoulder she could see Jerry standing at the row of lockers along the far wall, getting ready to take a cigarette break. The doors to the paint booth were still open and the lights were off, which meant the Mazda wasn’t drying, which in turn meant Jerry hadn’t repainted that quarter panel yet. Good thing he was taking a cigarette break.
“Tell you what—if you can kill the afternoon in town, I’ll drive you up to your cabin tonight,” Nora said, refocusing on Frank again. “Come by around six?”
“You don’t need to—”
“It’s not a problem.”
“All right.” He nodded. “I’d appreciate that.”
“Sure. Six o’clock, right?”
“Six o’clock.”
Thing was, Jerry didn’t dislike women. Was rather fond of them, in fact. In their place. And their place was not in a friggin’ body shop. Shit. Standing in the paint booth and listening to the tow truck growl as Nora set off on her second trip, he wondered just what he’d done to earn this fate. Working for a woman, him, best body man in the damn town. Could he find work somewhere else? Sure. But even if Nora was a righteous bitch four days outta five, she was also Bud Stafford’s daughter. And if Bud ever got better, came back to run the place again, Jerry wouldn’t want to make eye contact with him knowing he’d left the girl on her own.