“It's a good company. Family run. Keep their trucks in real good condition.”
Spiro stuck his injured arm in his jacket. Small man imitates Napoleon. “Looks like you haven't found a replacement for Moogey.”
“Thought I had a guy, but he didn't work out. Hard to replace Moogey. When Moogey was running the station I hardly had to be here. Could take a day off once a week to go to the track. Even after he got shot in the knee, he was still reliable. Still came to work.”
I suspected Spiro and I had parallel thoughts, and I was thinking that maybe Moogey borrowed the truck on one of those track days. Of course, if he borrowed the truck, someone else would have to be minding the store. Or someone else would have to be driving the truck.
“It's hard to get good help,” Spiro said. “I have the same problem.”
“I've got a good mechanic,” Cubby said. “Sandeman's got his own ways, but he's a damn good mechanic. The rest of the people come and go. Don't need a rocket scientist to pump gas or change a tire. If I could find someone to work full time in the office, I'd be set.”
Spiro did some oily chitchat and oozed himself out of the office.
“You know any of the guys who work here?” he asked me.
“I've spoken to Sandeman. He has an attitude. Does a little recreational drug use.”
“You tight with him?”
“I'm not his favorite person.”
Spiro's gaze dropped to my feet. “Maybe it's the shoes.”
I wrenched the car door open. “Anything else you want to comment on? Maybe you have a few words to say about my car?”
Spiro angled onto the seat. “Hell, the car is awesome. At least you know how to pick out a car.”
I squired Spiro into the funeral parlor, where all security systems seemed intact. We did a superficial examination of his two customers and felt fairly certain no one had relieved them of any obvious body parts. I told Spiro I'd return for the night run and that he should beep me if he needed me sooner.
I would have liked to keep Spiro under surveillance. I figured he'd keep picking at the lead I'd given him, and who knows what he'd find? And even more important, if Spiro started moving around, maybe Kenny would move with him. Unfortunately, I couldn't conduct any meaningful surveillance in Big Blue. I'd have to find a different car if I wanted to tail Spiro.
The half cup of coffee I'd gulped at breakfast was working its way through my system, so I decided to go back to my parents' house, where I could use the bathroom. I could take a shower and give some thought to my car problem. At ten I'd chauffeur Grandma Mazur over to Clara's for an overhaul.
When I got home my father was in the bathroom, and my mother was in the kitchen, cutting vegetables for minestrone.
“I have to use the bathroom,” I said. “Do you think Daddy will be long?”
My mother rolled her eyes. “I don't know what he does in there. Takes the paper in with him, and we don't see him for hours.”
I snitched a chunk of carrot and a chunk of celery for Rex and hustled up the stairs.
I knocked on the bathroom door. “How much longer?” I yelled.
There was no answer.
I knocked louder. “Are you okay in there?”
“Christ,” was the muttered reply. “A man can't even take a crap in this house . . .”
I went back to my room. My mother had made my bed and folded all my clothes. I told myself it was nice to be back home and have someone doing little favors for me. I should be grateful. I should enjoy the luxury.
“Isn't this fun?” I said to a sleeping Rex. “It's not every day we ge
t to visit Grandmom and Grandpop.” I lifted the lid to give him his breakfast, but my eye was twitching so badly I missed the cage entirely and dropped his carrot chunk on the floor.
By ten o'clock my father still hadn't come out of the bathroom, and I was dancing in the hall. “Hurry up,” I said to Grandma Mazur. “I'm going to explode if I don't get to a bathroom soon.”
“Clara has a nice bathroom. She keeps potpourri in it, and she's got a crocheted doll that sits on the extra roll of toilet paper. She'll let you use her bathroom.”