The salesman frowned. “I’ll be back in just a moment.”
Johnny nodded absent-mindedly and started walking around the Model A again.
The second salesman strode quickly up to Sam Cragg’s car, where the first salesman was leaning over the side. He turned as his fellow worker came up.
“A comic,” he said, “wants two-fifty.”
“Two-fifty,” cried the second salesman. “Why, it’s nothing but a pile of tin and rubber.”
“Two-fifty,” said Sam, doggedly. “Wouldn’t sell if I didn’t need a new plough.”
“Look, Mister,” said the first salesman, “we almost never buy a car as old as this. In fact, there ought to be a law condemning such clap-trap, but you look like a nice fellow and we’ll help you buy that plough. Fifty bucks — cash.”
Johnny Fletcher started to come toward the group. The second salesman tried to head him off, but Johnny stepped aside and admired the old flivver.
“That’s what you need for the desert. Doggone old cars are worth two of these city busses. Like to make you...”
“Just a minute,” said the salesman, taking Johnny’s arm. He started leading him away. “That’s my wife’s second cousin; got a big ranch out here in the Valley. Eighty-five acres of oranges, twenty lemon. You wouldn’t think to look at him he was worth a half million, would you?”
“Him?” exclaimed Johnny. “Doesn’t look like he’d have ten bucks to his name.”
“That’s his trouble,” said the salesman. “Eccentric, been trying to get him to trade in that old — that little car for a Cadillac. Think he’d do it? No.”
“Don’t blame him, if he lives out in the desert. That’s the kind of job you want...”
“But he doesn’t live in the desert. He’s attached to the car, that’s all. Mm, he likes money pretty well. Ha-ha! Like all the rich guys, more they have, more they want. Maybe... if we offered him enough, he might sell that car.” Brightening, “Then I could sell him a Cadillac.”
“That’s right,” said Johnny. “What do you think he’ll take for it?”
“He’s asking four-fifty. Of course the car isn’t worth it, but he doesn’t want to sell. That’s the trouble.”
“Mmm,” said Johnny. “I guess he doesn’t want to sell.” He shook his head. “Been to four lots already, though. That’s the kind of a job I want for the desert. Suppose he’d take two and a half?”
The salesman shook his head. “Sure, he wouldn’t. I offered him three-fifty on a trade-in.”
“I might go three hundred...”
The salesman could not conceal the gleam in his eye. “Wait here a minute.”
Johnny nodded lackadaisically. The salesman hurried back to the other man, signaled him to one side and got into a whispered huddle.
The first salesman said: “The damn farmer’s nuts. Holding out for two twenty-five.”
Second salesman: “The other guy’ll go three-fifty; I’m sure of it. Let’s try him at two hundred.”
“The heap’s junk, I tell you,” protested the first salesman. “He’s got baling wire holding it together.”
“A profit’s a profit,” said the second man.
They converged back upon Sam. “One seventy-five,” said the first salesman.
“Two’n a quarter,” persisted Sam.
“Two hundred!” cried the second salesman.
“Cash,” said Sam.
He got out of the car and the first salesman grabbed his arm and hurried him toward the office. The other man detoured back to Johnny.
“He said he’d sell for three-fifty, but he’s not too keen...”
“Well, I dunno,” said Johnny. “I been thinkin’ it over. I might go two-fifty...”
The salesman shot a look toward the office, into which Sam was just disappearing with the other salesman.
“I’d like to try him with three hundred.”
Johnny hesitated. “Ask him.”
Again Johnny was left alone, while the salesman hurried into the office, where Sam was already seated at a desk, signing a form. The second salesman nodded to the first, turned on his heel and went out of the office, back to Johnny.
“It’s a deal.”
“All right,” said Johnny. “I suppose you throw in the registration and license transfer?”
“We don’t usually, but we’ll make an exception this time.”
Johnny nodded and began strolling toward the flivver. He examined it critically, nodding approval as he stooped and looked under the car.
“She’s all right,” he said. He kicked a fender that was fastened to the body with wire. “Little wire won’t hurt it.”
“Of course not,” said the salesman. “Shall we step into the office?”
“Just a minute,” said Johnny. “The tires are kinda worn.”
“There’s plenty mileage in them yet.”
“I dunno, the sand does things to tires...”
“You can get them recapped for five bucks apiece.”
“Maybe so, but if I’m buying a car, naturally I want it in running condition.”
“I’ll guarantee there’s a lot of miles in those tires,” exclaimed the salesman. Sam Cragg was in the doorway of the office, shaking hands with the other salesman.
“You’ll put it in writing?”
“Put what in writing?”
“The guarantee?”
“Yes!” cried the salesman, getting desperate. “I’ll guarantee they’ll go a thousand miles.”
“Three thousand.”
“All right, three thousand.”
Sam Cragg passed behind Johnny and the salesman. The second salesman hovered in the background, then began coming forward. Johnny lifted up the hood, looked into the innards of the car, then let the hood fall back into place: Some rusty wire gave way and the hood fell askew. But Johnny didn’t mind. He walked around the car, leaned over and tried the horn. There was no sign.
“Hey!” cried Johnny. “The horn doesn’t work.”
“We’ll fix it!” howled the salesman.
Johnny shook his head. “When a horn’s gone on a car, the car’s pretty well shot. Tires no good, baling wire all over, horn broken...” He grabbed the steering wheel and shook it. “Steering wheel loose, too. Nope, I’m afraid she’s too far gone for me...”
“What do you mean?” cried the frantic salesman. “You said you wanted this car — you agreed to pay three hundred for it...”
“I assumed it was in good condition,” Johnny said, coolly. “Naturally, I’m not going to pay good money for a pile of junk.” He shook his head. “Better let your cousin keep her.”
“You can’t do that, you made us buy her for you...”
“I made you buy this car — for me?” Johnny stared at the two salesmen in amazement. “Now, wa-ait a minute. I said I was interested in a car like this. I didn’t say I would buy it...”
The first salesman grabbed Johnny’s arm. “What kind of a game do you call this?”
Johnny took the man’s hand, knocked it off his arm. “Don’t you lay a hand on me...”
“I’ll do more than that,” snarled the man, “if you don’t buy this car...”
“That settles it,” said Johnny. “I wouldn’t do business with you people now, if...”
He broke off and started rapidly out of the lot.
The two salesmen stared after Johnny a moment, then at each other, then at Johnny’s back again. “You...!” one of them called after Johnny.
Johnny continued quickly out of the lot.
Chapter Eleven
Sam Cragg was nowhere in sight, but when Johnny got down to the second block, Sam popped out of a doorway.
“I aged ten years, Johnny,” he panted. “I’m getting too old for those things.”
“So am I,” said Johnny. “For a minute I thought I’d have to yell for you to come back. They were going to jump me. In their place, I’d have punched me in the nose. At least.” Then suddenly Johnny grinned. “That makes it up a little for all the people they’ve gypped on deals.”