Final Price

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Final Price Page 9

by J. Gregory Smith


  Nelson exploded in laughter.

  “They think they fixed me. I fooled them.” Nelson looked at her. Tai Kai smiled.

  “You got nice girl who take care of you?”

  Nelson lowered his head. “Not anymore. She thought I was mysterious, but then she figured out I was just strange.” He took a bite of duck.

  In his mind Chang could see Carrie’s bookworm face, and he felt anger swell up at the way she’d abandoned Nelson. He translated for his mother that Nelson met her at a library and they dated for a while, but it didn’t work out.

  At the time, Chang had found Nelson’s late-night calls for advice tiresome. Back then he didn’t understand how much Nelson lived in his own world and rarely showed romantic interest. Colleen had had no patience for Nelson and little with Chang’s family.

  When Chang was still with her, his mother would pronounce her name “Careen.” Always bugged Colleen, but now Chang thought it summed up their relationship. “Careened” off the “criff.”

  “I know what you need. Shu!” Tai Kai spoke rapidly in Chinese. Shu’s surprise broke through his façade.

  “He does not need dried seahorse.” Chang felt like an embarrassed kid again. Did it every time.

  “Put yin in your yang!” Her sharp laugh reminded Chang of a seagull. “You watch out for Paul?”

  “He takes care of himself,” Nelson said.

  “I not here forever. He need friend. Don’t trust American girl.”

  “Mother, I’m not a piece of furniture. I’m sitting right here.”

  “I forget what you look like. I thought you were salesman with your European costume.”

  Chang stared at the ceiling. “You’re going to outlive all of us.”

  “Western medicine going to kill me. You see.”

  “Mrs. Chang, have you ever thought about going back to China to visit?”

  “China not a place. It here.” She pointed to her head. “And here.” She covered her heart. She paused. “Besides, too many Communists.”

  “I’ll show your son how to keep women away.” Nelson’s voice was deadpan.

  Her laugh filled the room. “You not crazy, you smart. Be careful. Too many bad people out there.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Chang could see she had fun at his expense as usual but that the evening tired her out. After the meal, he and Nelson said goodbye.

  Shu walked them to the door. Chang noted Shu didn’t hand his partner a baggie from his stores of Chinese herbs and medicine. Nelson thanked him for the food.

  Chang turned to leave but stopped when Shu and Nelson stared at each other. Neither appeared uncomfortable, and after what seemed to Chang like a long time, Shu gave a tiny nod.

  “You live inside but give balance,” Shu said to Nelson.

  “Sorry?”

  “You water, temper his fire.” Shu indicated Chang.

  Nelson looked at Shu like he was an exhibit. Shu tolerated the examination with his customary nonchalance.

  “I can’t read you.” Nelson sounded amazed. “I get nothing but calm.”

  He leaned forward and inhaled deeply through his nose. “Wait…something…it’s buried deep…intense…settled now.” Nelson looked up. “You’re good.” He turned to Chang. “He’s strong.”

  The corners of Shu’s mouth hinted at a smile. “Thank you.”

  Details of Shu’s past were still a mystery even after decades. The old man was more than a caregiver, but Chang respected his privacy. What did Nelson pick up?

  CHAPTER 20

  Soft Sell

  Greenville, Saturday, last day of March

  Whenever Saturdays fell on the last day of the month, the sales team would go nuts to push out cars. Shamus only had one delivery, and then he would be free to feast on the floor traffic.

  Early in the day, his customer Myrtle Maynard came in with more questions about the Odyssey minivan. Some salesmen referred to the old lady as “Shamus’s girlfriend.” Shamus thought she might crack and put down a deposit today.

  “I don’t think I could put money down on anything without driving it first.”

  Of course not.

  “I understand. It’s such a popular vehicle. If I could get you a quick drive, would you make a decision?”

  “I still don’t want to rush into anything. But it would help.” She smiled at Shamus.

  “Have a seat. I need to do a little horse trading, but I might be able to work something out.” He smiled back. Atta girl.

  Shamus walked down to Dale’s office, where his biggest cardinal rule was never to interrupt him when he was with customers. Few new salesmen who received his wrath repeated the mistake. Thankfully, his people weren’t in yet.

  “I’m gonna cut to the chase.”

  “That’d be nice.” Dale didn’t look up.

  “I have a customer this close to putting money on an Odyssey.” Shamus held his thumb and index finger an inch apart.

  “No.”

  “Hang on, I know you’re busy and you don’t want anyone driving your van, but before you say no…”

  “Already did.” Dale continued with his paperwork.

  “I’ll buy you lunch. A good one. Some place Hank likes.”

  “Nope.” Dale stopped working and looked at Shamus.

  “Okay, lunch plus I’ll throw in the new issue of Playboy.”

  “What makes you think I don’t already have it?”

  “Because you’re cheap. I’ll toss in five bucks worth of gas, too. My final offer.” Shamus saw him weaken.

  “Keys in my jacket pocket behind the door. You do most of the driving, and if there is so much as a scratch, it’s coming out of your pocket.” Dale returned to his work.

  Jackpot! “You’re the best!”

  “Have fun and don’t go parking.”

  Shamus retrieved the keys and returned to Myrtle.

  “Great news! We can take our business manager’s personal van out. It’s the current model.” He led her out the door.

  After the drive, Shamus could feel her wanting to say yes, but her timid nature held her back. She loved the van.

  “Shamus, thank you for everything you’ve done. I really appreciate it. But I’m a widow and my husband used to make these decisions. I have to sleep on it for a night or two. I like the van, but it’s a big decision for me. Thank you for not pressuring me.”

  Shamus almost said, “And thank you for not buying!”

  “I understand. I’ll give you a call next week to see how you’re doing.”

  When he returned, another customer was waiting. She was young, maybe twenty. Caked-on makeup. A dirty girl, for sure. Wouldn’t dare speak to her if he wasn’t at work.

  She had shoulder-length brown hair and wore a cropped T-shirt that exposed her tan midriff. A wispy tattooed face on her belly turned her pierced navel into a mouth that complemented the stud in her tongue. When she walked, the mouth opened and closed. Reminded Shamus of a blow-up sex doll.

  Shamus felt a chill creep up his legs for even looking at her. Other salesmen stared and whispered. Act natural.

  He introduced himself, and she said her name was Heather Cleary.

  “I need a car.” She had a raspy smoker’s voice.

  “Any particular model in mind?”

  “You have any gold V6 Accord coupes?”

  “We do. Are you familiar with the Accords?”

  “I better be. I had one until two weeks ago. It got totaled, and I’m driving around this piece-of-shit rental. I hate it. I want my Honda back.” She stomped her foot, and belly-face leered at him.

  “I understand,” Shamus said. It was an understanding kind of morning. “I’ll bring the gold one around…”

  “Don’t you listen? I know how they drive, I just want it back. If you get some paperwork, I’m ready to take care of this today.”

  A quick sale. His kind of girl after all. “If we can get the car detailed, are you ready to take it today?”

  “No. I have a m
assage scheduled in an hour. But if you give me a good deal, I’ll sign today and give you a deposit or something.”

  He took her credit card to Jake, who got pissed off because she wouldn’t take delivery until the following month.

  “A what? If Little Miss Inky wants a great deal, show her this number and tell her it’s only good until the end of today. Go close her!” Shamus saw he was three cars shy of his goal.

  Heather looked at the number and asked, “Is that it?”

  He started to explain and caught the bored look on her face. No attention span, but at least she seemed satisfied with the price.

  “Okay, whatever, that’s fine. Where do I sign, and what day can I pick up the car next week?”

  Shamus tried to explain about the “today only” aspect of the deal.

  “Oh, that is such bullshit! If you’ll sell it today for that much, you’ll do the same thing next week.”

  Shamus took a deep breath. Sex-doll called him a liar. Forgot what she’s good for…Gonna lose her soon; spoiled slut isn’t used to hearing the word “no.”

  “Okay, Heather. Sign here and give me your credit card for the deposit, and I’ll clear it with the manager. Once I get his okay, we’ll do a quick credit application and you’re done.” He handed her an application form and held out a pen.

  She let Shamus keep his hand in the air while she dug into her designer bag and pulled out a gold Mont Blanc pen.

  He closed his fist around the cheap plastic. Don’t snap it. Shamus hustled back to Jake. He explained the situation. Jake shook his head.

  “It’s a shitty sale if it goes next week! I did that ’cause I need to hit my damn number.” Jake looked over at her. “I’ll give her a rubdown. Okay, a shitty sale is better than nothing.” He signed off on the deal.

  When she was gone, he felt better with a sale under his belt. Shamus thought about his evening plans and felt himself getting aroused.

  CHAPTER 21

  Blind Justice

  The sun set, and Shamus lay sleepless on his bed. He couldn’t rest, but his fatigue melted away when it was time to get started. Shamus grabbed his game bag and walked over to his dresser. He removed the snub-nosed revolver and opened the cylinder; a quick glance confirmed the weapon was loaded. Time to saddle up.

  He recovered the car he’d picked out for the evening, a real junker traded in today. The drive took less than fifteen minutes. Shamus doused his headlights before the turn and slowed to a crawl up the driveway. The moon gave plenty of natural light, and he parked the car behind a thick stand of trees. He walked the remaining fifty yards with his bag over his shoulder.

  Just one light burned in the second story of Midori’s carriage house. The main house was completely dark. Very good. The Rickster probably watched the eleven o’clock news. Midori was about to become a current event. Shamus buried his face in the bag to muffle the whoop of laughter.

  He hadn’t gotten too close to the house last night and didn’t know the layout of the front. Inspiration struck in the form of a tiny blinking red light coming from inside the new car.

  Midori had bought an optional security system. Shamus crept closer and picked a good spot to hide near the front door. Midori had to be upstairs. He could hear the faint sounds of the television.

  He tiptoed to the car, put one foot on the back bumper, and then jounced it with both his legs. The alarm pierced the night. The headlights flashed and the horn blared. Shamus dashed to his hiding place and waited for his quarry. He shrank back, and a shadow crossed the pool of light in the driveway. The alarm stopped. Shamus waited. Nothing else happened. The shadow retreated, and he could hear the television again.

  Must have used the remote. The red light blinked when the alarm reset. Shamus ran and jumped on the front of the car. The alarm’s sound and light carved into the tranquil night. Shamus saw the shadow reappear, but the racket continued for longer this time. Silent again.

  He heard the click of the front door lock, and light splashed the front stoop. Shamus tried to become part of the wall just beyond the light and could see Rick in a bathrobe peering out at the dim driveway.

  “Hello? Is someone out there? This isn’t funny.”

  Shamus disagreed. Midori extended his arm out toward the car and cycled the alarm.

  Shamus watched Midori step back and begin to close the door. Shamus pounced onto the door stoop and thrust his head into the gap. He brought his face within inches of Midori’s and gave him both lungs.

  “Booo!”

  Midori leaped backwards and made a noise like he’d been punched in the gut. He fell on his butt, wide-eyed. His hands came up like feeble claws.

  Shamus stepped inside and closed the door. He kept an eye on the twerp and held the gun at his side.

  “Did I scare you? It’s only me.”

  Midori didn’t appear reassured. Shamus knew they were alone in the house. Midori wasn’t married, and the single car outside meant no visitors. The fact that the guy was a jerk helped, too.

  “Uh, uh, uh…Whuh, whuh.” Midori stayed on the floor and sounded like an old car trying to start on a cold morning.

  “Get it together, Rick. We have unfinished business. We can chat uninterrupted here. Now settle down; we can work this out.”

  Midori’s gaze stayed glued to the gun. “You’re thinking I was going to forget about you, didn’t you? Sure you are. Said I’d take care of you, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. You helped me, and I’ll help you. I’ll get you the same commission. What’s more fair than that?”

  No vocabulary lesson. Good. “Take a breath and pay attention. I’m going to lay it out for you.” Shamus looked into the main living room area. It was beautifully decorated and dominated by a comfortable couch with a matching chair that flanked a glass-topped coffee table.

  “Sit still for a minute.” Shamus crossed into the room and lowered the shades. He kept an eye on Midori.

  “You’ll have lots of questions, but please put this on first and don’t say a word. Not even a big one.” Shamus put his bag on the floor and reached in with his free hand. He took out a flat sleep mask. He tossed it to Midori.

  “I’ll explain everything, but I’d feel happier if you can’t see. I can put away the gun. Unless you want me nervous and jumpy with a loaded pistol in my hand…”

  Midori began to shake, but he managed to put on the mask. He would be blind while he wore it.

  “Good job! Okay, on your knees, hands behind your back. Now we can talk without you running out and calling the police before we’ve reached an understanding. When we’re done, I don’t think you’re going to want to turn me in.” Shamus loved to soothe his toys. No wonder he was such a good salesman.

  Midori allowed Shamus to duct-tape his arms behind his back and bind his legs. Shamus sat him up with his back against the couch and his legs extended in front of him.

  “Comfy?” No answer. “It’s okay to speak, but try to stay on topic. You tend to ramble.”

  “What do you want with me? I can give you money.”

  “Why does everybody always say that? Do I look like a thief? What I want is more precious than money. I need the truth. I’m a little concerned that might be the one thing you aren’t willing to give me.”

  “I’ll tell you anything.”

  “See, that’s what I’m talking about. Don’t tell me ‘anything,’ just the truth.”

  “I meant ask me anything.”

  “First of all, I’m leaving car sales and getting out of town, but I couldn’t leave until I knew why you didn’t buy from me. I need to know if you plan to send the cops after me.”

  “No! Just don’t hurt me. I won’t say anything, I promise.”

  “I want to believe you, but that car in your driveway…let’s say it put the trust thing under a bit of a strain. I need a little more.” Shamus felt himself shudder with anticipation. So much fun.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Really glad you asked. I’ve come up with a l
ittle game designed to…how might you put it? To promote integrity and decisiveness through the miracle of negative reinforcement.” Shamus reached into his bag and pulled out a huge cigar.

  “What?”

  “Say, do you mind if I smoke?”

  “No…” Midori sounded confused.

  “You probably will.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Brief Case

  Chang wore his dress uniform, complete with blue tunic, pressed pants, and polished shoes. He heard Daisy’s “recognition” bark. Nelson opened the door.

  “You look uncomfortable,” Nelson said, gathering his materials.

  “It’s tight. I don’t wear it much anymore.” Chang was glad the buttons were strong. He looked at Nelson’s outfit, black trousers and an orange shirt with a deep-red tie.

  “No good?” Nelson asked. Chang heard irritation in his voice.

  “This is a briefing. You know the drill.”

  Nelson stomped upstairs.

  Colonel Byrd balked at the prospect of civilian involvement, but Chang thought he made progress when he gave him an edited version of Nelson’s background.

  Unfortunately, Byrd’s intention to run for governor next year made him hypersensitive to potential criticism in the press. Byrd was furious about the Flannigan article.

  But Chang remembered that the obnoxious reporter at the Daily Post used to write for the New York Times, possibly when Colleen was there. After the divorce, Colleen had raced back to her old job in the city. She might have some inside dirt on Flannigan, or know someone who did. Wasn’t a bad excuse to call her.

  In the car, Chang mentally reviewed the case and what might convince Byrd he needed Nelson’s insight.

  Nelson broke the protracted silence. “You’re worried.”

  “I hope Byrd goes with our idea, that’s all.”

  “That’s not all.”

  Just like a mind reader. “You’ll do fine. It’s only one person. We’ll outnumber him.”

 

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