His new GPS took him directly to the Mercedes dealership. He parked his pickup and was immediately approached by a tall saleswoman who was about forty years old. Her blonde hair laid in soft curls over a layer of brown that lit on her shoulders. She looked like she belonged in her dark blue suit and red silk blouse.
“Good afternoon,” she said, smiling broadly. “Welcome to Mercedes-Benz Fallbrook.” She reached her hand out to shake his. “I’m Shannon Shafer.”
“JP Torn,” he said, extending his hand.
“Are you looking for a new or a previously owned car today?”
“New, ma’am, if you don’t mind.”
“Is there something specific you’re looking for?”
She walked with him past a lot full of used cars toward the showroom. “A C250 in black.”
“Good choice. It’s a very comfortable car, has high but efficient performance, and offers all the safety features. Plus it has sporty handling at a reasonable cost.”
JP opened the door for her and let her pass in first. He wondered what she considered a “reasonable cost” as they passed an S600 Sedan with a sticker that read $159,500. Holy cow, JP thought. Even if I were rich, I wouldn’t pay that for a truck, much less some fan-dangled luxury car.
“Mercedes is known for its performance and handling. This car’s four-cylinder engine has the new 1.8 liter turbo-direct injection, which delivers more torque than the previous V-6. It reduces fuel emissions and consumption as well as noise.”
JP noticed the lack of color in the showroom. Most of the cars were black, gray, or silver. He couldn’t remember if he had ever seen a brightly colored Mercedes sedan, although he assumed they existed.
Shannon stopped at a black C250. “Here it is. It’s not only a beauty; it offers the highest safety features in the business as well as the industry’s first seven-speed automatic transmission, which as you probably know results in better highway fuel efficiency. With these skyrocketing gas prices we need all the help we can get.”
The sticker on the C250 read $35,220 leading JP to think the pedophile wasn’t rich or he would’ve bought a more expensive Mercedes. This was the “wannabe” car, the low-end luxury car.
“Do you sell a lot of these?” JP asked.
“It’s a very popular choice among Mercedes owners,” she said.
JP walked around the car as if he were interested. “How many would you say this location sells in a month?”
“I don’t know that exactly, but I can assure you our customers are very satisfied when they buy this car. It has agility control suspension and an advanced breaking system which includes Predictive Brake Priming and Automatic Brake Drying.”
JP listened as she continued her sales pitch. He knew that she was trying to figure out where he was going with his questions so she could give the correct responses. “How many of these did you personally sell in the last month?”
“Only one, but if you’re concerned about my ability to help you, please don’t be. I can assure you I will give you a good deal and you won’t be disappointed with my service. Besides, we have a whole team to take care of you.”
“I can see you’re very good at your job.” JP opened the door and looked inside. “What color was the one you sold?”
“Silver. You said you were interested in black, right? Because we also have it in the Palladium Silver on the floor if you’d like to see that.”
“You just carry the black and silver?”
“Other colors can be ordered as well, but the black or silver suits you,” she said.
“How many other salesmen or women are here?”
“Eight.” This time she didn’t even try to continue her pitch. Instead she said, “Go ahead, sit in the car. See if it fits.”
“I bet you sell more cars than anyone here. You sure seem to know what you’re talking about. Tell me, did the other sales people all sell at least one of these particular cars in the last month?”
“A few of them did. We stand by our products and this car in particular is exceptional. One of the salesmen even bought one himself,” she offered.
“Oh, really? What color did he get?”
“Black.”
“Do you own one?”
“I drive a Mercedes, but not this model. I’ve had mine for several years. They’re very durable and also remain classic in their design.”
“Could I talk to the salesman who bought the C250?” Her expression gave way to concern. JP added quickly, “Don’t worry, you’re my go-to person. I just want to ask him a few questions about how he likes it and such. What’s his name?”
“It’s Warren Smithe and I’m afraid he’s not here today, but we can take the car for a drive if you’d like to see how it handles.”
JP squinted his eyes and wrinkled his brow as if he were deep in thought. “Warren Smithe? That name sounds familiar. Is he a big, tall guy?”
“Yes, do you know him?”
“Not really. I came in here a while back with a friend of mine who was looking at cars and I think that’s the gentleman who helped him. Does he have a southern accent?”
She nodded. “Yes, but he has tried real hard to get rid of it. It mostly comes out when he’s excited or nervous about something. We joke about how he becomes more southern the closer he gets to closing a deal.”
JP lowered his voice, “To tell you the truth, I wasn’t nearly as impressed with him as I am you. He seemed a little odd.”
“That’s Warren, but he’s a nice enough guy, just hard to get to know. He keeps to himself for the most part.”
“Are you working tomorrow?” JP asked.
“Yes, but I can make you a good offer on the car right now.”
“I’m afraid I’m out of time right now.” He turned to leave and then turned back. “Do you know if Warren is working tomorrow? I’d still like to ask him a few questions before we seal the deal.”
“I believe he comes in at one.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
Chapter 28
Sabre dozed off as she sat in the back of the courtroom waiting for her case to be heard. Bob nudged her. She shook her head to help wake up, stood up, and walked out with Bob close behind her.
“Are you okay?” Bob asked, as soon as they were in the hallway.
“I’m just tired.”
“Do you have some wild affair going on that you haven’t shared with me?”
“I should be so lucky. Believe me, if I were having wild sex I’d be yelling it from the rooftops. No, I’m just not sleeping. These horrible nightmares of hanging dead bodies are haunting me. They seem so real, especially when they first start out—almost like a memory instead of a dream.”
“Your memory of Marcus isn’t a dream. It is real. And I know it was hard for you to see.”
“Yeah, but there’s the man with a blue face, too. He also seems real. And last night I was just a little girl and was just tall enough to reach up and touch his foot. I tugged on it and then my dad ran in and grabbed me.”
“Are you only seeing Marcus and the man with the blue face?”
“Sometimes it’s just the two of them. Other times there are lots of faceless bodies. It’s just plain creepy. Whenever the dream goes on for any length of time, my dad always comes to rescue me. And it’s always in that same little yellow house. Sometimes I think I actually remember that house, but then I realize it’s probably just from the dream.”
“Maybe you should see your doctor. You know, the good-looking one with the pretty eyes you always talk about. He can give you something to help you sleep.”
“I don’t want something to help me sleep because when I sleep I dream. That’s the problem. I’m afraid to go to sleep.”
“This isn’t healthy. You look terrible. Your eyes are all puffy and red and you have dark circles, like something out of a horror movie.”
Sabre reached up and touched her face around her eye. “Do I look that bad?”
“Okay, maybe not that bad,
but I’m worried about you, Sobs. You need to go and at least talk to the doctor. Maybe if you sleep deeply enough you won’t have the nightmares.”
“You think?”
“I don’t know, but it’s worth checking into.”
“Okay. I’ll call the doctor as soon as I finish my calendar.”
They started back toward the courtroom. “And if he gives you any good psychotropic drugs or pain pills, save them for me,” Bob said.
She smacked him lightly on the arm. “You nut.”
“I just know your aversion to taking pills and I wouldn’t want you to waste some perfectly good mind-altering drugs.”
After completing her calendar, and before leaving the parking lot at juvenile court, she sat in her car while she called her doctor and made an appointment. Bob was right. She did enjoy seeing her doctor. He was easy on the eyes and had a great sense of humor. And although she was pretty certain he was married and was never flirtatious, it was still embarrassing when she had to see him about something personal. Fortunately, she wasn’t sick much.
She was able to get an appointment for the next day at 4:00 p.m. She marked it in her phone calendar and checked the time. It was too late to stop and see Marcus at the hospital as she had planned, so she drove directly to Riley’s school for her scheduled appointment with him. She had given a lot of attention to Marcus and she didn’t want Riley to feel neglected. He attended school regularly, his grades were improving, and socially he seemed to be fitting in well. He certainly wasn’t as needy as Marcus, but he had suffered the loss of his father as well and she wanted to make sure he was okay.
Riley was waiting for her in study hall when she arrived at the school. He didn’t hug her when she walked up like Marcus always did, but Sabre didn’t expect that from him. He smiled and said, “Hello.”
“Hi, Riley, how are you doing?”
“Good.”
“Is everything okay at school?”
“Yes.”
Sabre noticed a sketchpad on his desk, but Riley closed it before she could see what he was drawing. She said, “I understand your study hall teacher has been giving you extra help.”
“A lot of students are here as a punishment and they won’t do anything, so the few of us that want her help get it.”
“That’s great. I also hear that you’ll likely be able to play football in the fall.”
“They’re going to let me take tests for math and English. If I pass them, I’ll get credit for the classes and I’ll be a sophomore when school starts. Then I’ll be able to play.” He tapped the pencil he held in his hand on the desk absentmindedly.
Sabre glanced at the pencil and he stopped. “And you started your counseling?”
“Yes, I’ve gone twice.”
“How is that?”
“It’s okay.” He shrugged.
“Riley, did you see the man who beat up your father the day before the social worker came?”
He shook his head back and forth. “Nope.”
“We know that your dad took Marcus out on the streets with him sometimes. Did you ever go out with him?”
He started tapping his pencil again. “Just once.”
Sabre ignored it. “What did you do with him?”
“He just showed me places to get better food, and he wanted to run some scams on people but I wouldn’t help him.”
“Did he get upset with you?”
“Yes. He got mad and told me to leave. He said I was too old anyway for what he wanted to do and Marcus could do a better job.” More tapping.
Sabre looked at his pencil again. This time he laid it down. She asked, “Do you know what he meant by that?”
“No. I just wanted to go home.”
“Home to where you were staying on the streets?”
“Yes.”
“And what about Marcus?”
“He wanted to go with Dad, especially at first. The last few times, though, he didn’t want to go, but Dad made him. Marcus was too afraid to say no to him.”
“Do you know why Marcus didn’t want to go?”
Riley lowered his eyes and said, “No.”
“Riley?”
“He never said. I don’t know.” He responded in the same tone of voice.
Sabre could tell she wasn’t going to get any more information from him on this matter and moved on. “How are things at home? Are you getting along okay with your grandma?”
“Yes. She’s good to me. I like it there.”
“And Frank?”
“He’s fine. He even helps me with my homework sometimes.”
Sabre watched Riley’s behavior as they visited. He seemed much more relaxed than when she first met him. He was more talkative but not overly so and seemed proud of the changes he had made in his life. The casual observer would probably think this was an average fourteen-year-old with a typical home life. She thought about how different he was from Marcus and hoped he had been spared some of the things she knew Marcus had experienced. Sometimes the children in these situations can move on from them and grow up to be functional adults. With the court’s intervention, she thought Riley had a shot at that. At least she could hope. And then there was Marcus. Poor Marcus.
Chapter 29
Several people wandered around the Mercedes-Benz Fallbrook lot. They were either being followed or led by hungry salesmen trying to close a deal. Consequently, JP wasn’t greeted in the parking lot. He walked into the showroom and saw a man fitting the description of Warren Smithe talking with the receptionist at the service counter. Before JP could make it across the floor to speak with him, he heard Shannon’s voice.”
“Welcome back, Mr. Torn.”
“Thank you.”
“I know how interested you are in that C250. I took the liberty of talking to my boss and wait until you see the deal I was able to get for you. It’s a deal you won’t be able to refuse.”
“I appreciate that.” He started to walk toward the car, which put him closer to the reception desk. “Do you mind if I have another look?”
“Why, of course not.”
JP walked around the car, then stood back as if he were sizing it up.
“When we spoke yesterday I don’t think I mentioned all of the safety features this car has, such as the advanced brake system, a blind-spot assist, and the eleven-way air bag protection. It also has an Electronic Stability Program that can detect plowing or fishtailing and compensate for it.”
JP raised his hand to stop her pitch. “Excuse me, ma’am. You’re doing a fine job of explaining all the features, but if you don’t mind I’d like to ask Mr. Smithe a few questions before I sign on the dotted line.” He looked toward the service desk. “Is that him over there? That looks a lot like the man we spoke to last month.”
“Yes, that’s him. I’ll go see if he can give you a few minutes.”
When she left, JP positioned himself behind the car with his digital camera so he could get a photo when they walked up. He wanted it to look like he was taking a picture of the car.
Shannon stood there talking to Smithe for several minutes. JP saw them look in his direction. He guessed the stall was part of the tactic to make him want to sign. Little did they know that if he were really interested in buying a car he would’ve left after the first hard sales pitch. He hated to be sold on anything. He usually did his research before he ever went to make a purchase and if the salesperson was polite and not pushy, he would buy and leave.
When they finally started to walk toward him he held his camera up and took a couple of pictures of the car. When they were almost to the car he took a couple more shots, making sure they were in them.
JP looked directly at Shannon. “I wanted to get a couple of pictures of this fine car. Perhaps after I make the purchase, I can get one of you as well—with me and the car, of course.”
She smiled. “Of course.” She turned toward the other salesman. “And this is Warren Smithe. Warren, JP Torn.”
Warren and JP shook hands. JP
thought how weak and unmanly his handshake was and his shiny fingernails coupled with the touch of Smithe’s skin against his made his stomach feel queasy. He couldn’t even imagine what poor Marcus had to endure. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Smithe, but I believe we’ve already met. You’ve worked here for some time, haven’t you?”
“About seven years now.”
“I came in here a while back with a friend and you helped him. Anyway, it’s not important. I understand you have a car just like this one?”
“Yes. That’s correct.”
“Oh, perhaps you could take our photo now, Mr. Smithe?” JP handed him the camera before he could say no, and stepped near Shannon so he could take the photo. “Smile now, Shannon. This is my big day.” JP smiled at the camera. “Take a couple, please. I want to make sure I get a good one.”
After the photo session, Smithe handed the camera back. JP reached for the string on it, being careful not to touch the camera. He slipped it back in his pocket.
“So, your car, Mr. Smithe, do you really like the way it handles?”
“Yes, I do indeed. The luxury styling makes me feel like the big man in town.” He chuckled. “I guess maybe I am the big man in town.” JP did all he could to keep from punching him. How big and important he must feel when he’s out hunting for little boys. “You can’t go wrong with this baby,” Smithe said, patting the roof of the car.
And you do love babies, don’t you, JP thought. He took a couple of steps away from Smithe, afraid of what he might do to him if he stood too close. JP looked inside the car again, not saying anything for a few seconds.
Smithe broke the silence. “Are you a rancher, Mr. Torn?”
“Born and bred.”
“Think of this as a thoroughbred. You won’t be driving some ‘Mercedes wannabe.’ This car is the real deal. It’ll provide you a smooth, classic ride as its aerodynamically sculpted body slices through the country air.”
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