Chapter 28
Gerald couldn’t stop thinking about that totaled, egg-white, formerly sunken, 2011 Ford Focus. Everything about it had been unique. He had never bought a car that had been completely submerged; he considered them monetary losers. As soon as he disclosed that such a car had been underwater – which was typically quite obvious – he knew that the potential sales would evaporate like shallow, stagnant, scummed-over swamp water on a hot southeastern North Carolina day. Why did I buy it? Why the hell was I drawn to it?
Gerald had bought numerous seriously smashed-up vehicles over the years – scores of end results of fatal collisions. “Deathmobiles,” he often called them; though, he wasn’t the first one in the trade to use that coinage. This particular one, however, had arrested his attention. He mused further. But, this driver went off the top of the Snow’s Cut Bridge when apparently no one else was on it. The steering column linkages were intact; I checked them yesterday. Both front tires still had air in them when it was placed on the barge. I saw the photos. Was it a suicide? That’s a very unusual way to off yourself. And yet, some guy from Raleigh – one hundred and thirty miles away – decides that he wants to buy the whole damn thing, even though all he needs is a trunk. And, all this occurs in less than a week. It’s nuts! It’s crazy! It’s fishy … as fishy as a streetwalker’s twat.
He had never had someone buy a whole wrecked car to be a part source for a car that was only one year old. He was not aware of 2011 Ford Focuses being collector’s items, or becoming such any time soon; Gerald could not imagine this model being a future vintage, highly desired vehicle.
A fly that had entered earlier with Dale whizzed by Gerald’s forehead. The junkyard owner watched the insect loop around the room until it disappeared. His rumination continued. It’s just a ho-hum, basic-transportation, average American sedan – a poor man’s Honda. Really nothing more. But, this David guy most surely wants it. Does he anticipate getting into collisions involving only the right and rear sides of his car? There’s something awfully strange about all of this – something I’m sorely missing.
The fly then alighted on his desk. Splat! He nailed it with his rolled-up Wilmington Star-News newspaper. Gerald still had great eye-hand coordination.
He returned to his musing about the mysterious sedan. This rental car was last driven by a guy who was estranged from his wife, but he goes to the same beach where she is staying, and they stay in separate motel rooms – even separate motels. Well, maybe he was spying on her. That’s not unheard of when one spouse thinks the other is cheating, especially if one takes off for the beach alone. But, why does this guy fly off the Snow’s Cut Bridge at five in the morning? Was he being chased? Were they both involved in some big drug deal? Did it all go wrong late in the night? Did someone – i.e., Mark – steal the drugs from Susan? Did Susan go down there to score a shitload of OxyContin? Were they all fucked-up and out of their gourds? I bet there are a lot of drugs in that car. Somewhere in that car. Susan overdosed on OxyContin. Maybe she had a case of it. Maybe David noticed the drugs in the car earlier this morning when he checked it out. Maybe the drugs are in air-tight plastic bags and still saleable. That’s why David is willing to pay big bucks for that previously submerged Ford Focus. He recognized what the stuff is. He’s a bio-tech guy. He’s no idiot. That’s got to be it. But, why didn’t the Coast Guard or the police notice that. Why didn’t they seize the drugs? They had to have searched the car. They had to have had a drug-sniffing dog go over that car. They had to have. The dog would’ve picked up the scent. No, I don’t think that it’s drugs. But, what? What did David see? Some valuable object, perhaps?
Gerald was correct with that drug-check thought. The New Hanover County Sheriff’s Office had let a drug-sniffing canine crawl under the car and run through the car. The dog did her due diligence, sniffing under the seats, in the seats, in between the seats, the headliner, and behind the dashboard, and even sniffing the trunk and engine compartment – or what was left of it.
However, gold doesn’t smell like marijuana, meth, heroin, opium, cocaine, crack or OxyContin. Gold is essentially odorless. The dog did her job satisfactorily. There were no drugs in the car. However, there was a nice bounty of gold. And, everyone had missed it until David lifted that spare tire up. And now Dale had it buried in his back yard.
There’s something of high value in that car. I can feel it. With that line of thinking, Gerald got up and walked down to the wrecked Ford Focus. He opened the right-rear door and checked under the seats. All he felt was warm, moist carpet. The odor in the car was nearly toxic. Whew! It reeks in here.
Then he opened the right-front door and checked the glove compartment. There was nothing but wet literature from the rental car company. He considered taking the dashboard off. Wait, first let’s check the trunk before we start dismantling.
He lifted the trunk lever. The latch and linkage still worked. He walked over and looked inside. Just rank carpet. Boy, it smells to high heavens in here! Ah, let’s check under the spare tire.
He removed the plastic piece, moved the black carpet piece aside, and unscrewed the wing nut. He then removed the black-steel-rimmed doughnut tire. Well, nothing under there. Looks like I’ve struck out.
But, just as he was about to put the spare tire back on the retaining bolt, he saw some yellow matter on the flat-black tire well of the trunk. Hmmm, now what could this be? Was Mark in the sulfur business? He chuckled to himself.
Gerald placed his right index finger down on the yellowish flakes; they stuck to his sweaty finger. The tiny wavy flakes were soft and very bendable. Ah-ha! Inspector Zowen has cracked the case: There was gold hidden under this spare tire! Mark had gold fever so bad it killed him. But, who has it now? David must have seen it this morning when he examined the trunk. But, the gold is gone now. Actually, that rules out David. He wouldn’t still be trying to buy this piece of junk if he already had the gold; he’d be long gone. He must still think that the gold is in here. That’s why he wants to offer me that premium price for this demolished submarine-of-a-car. Dale must have got curious and checked the trunk after David left the lot. Dale must be the one who has it now. It’s got to be him. That weasel took all of it, and didn’t even tell me. What a loyal, trustworthy employee. I knew he was shit.
Gerald heard a car pulling into the front parking lot. It’s probably David. This will be very telling. Just play dumb. Just hear him out.
He quickly screwed the spare tire back down, replaced the plastic piece, and quietly closed the trunk and all four doors. Gerald hunched down and crawled back to the office the long way, hugging the back fence, staying shielded from David’s roaming eyes.
Gerald kept four rows of wrecked vehicles between him and David. He then stood up once he was on the other side of the house-office, pausing to examine an artificially selected, 2008, rear-ended, blue-pearl Audi A4. Hope he didn’t see me. But even if he did, what is he going to do? What can he do?
Gerald ambled up to the office on the other side of the front porch, making it seem like he was working on the other side of the main lot – not where the foremost Ford Focus was. The things that men will do for a couple of chunks of gold.
David was on the front porch waiting for him. “Hello, are you Gerald?” That’s got to be him.
“Yes, that’s me. Good to meet you.” So, there he is.
They quickly shook hands. A dog barked.
“Likewise,” David sputtered. I wonder if he has checked the trunk. Gosh, I hope not.
“So, you met my associate, Dale, earlier?”
“Yes, I did. I’m interested in buying the whole car. Did Dale tell you?”
“Yes, he did. He said that you are offering twelve hundred dollars. Are you sure you really want to pay all that money for that car? You know that it was underwater for some time. Even the good right-side door panels probably already have rust forming on the inside.” The moment of truth has arrived. Let’s see how David plays this.
David was puzzled and feeling uncertain about the current location of the gold. Why is he trying to steer me out of buying the whole car? Has he seen the gold in the trunk? Has it been removed by one of them?
Another dog bark.
“Nah, I think I will still take it,” David finally announced. The dogs then barked in unison. “But, can I just go out and look it over one more time?” And please don’t follow or watch me.
“Sure. Here are the keys.” Gerald handed David a basic silver ring with two keys. He gave his potential buyer a stony look. This should be quite interesting. Very, very interesting. / Fingers crossed.
David took the long walk out to the car. He looked back to see if Gerald could see him. There was no sign of him. Great, the coast is clear, unless he’s up in that attic window. Well, time to check this trunk. C’mon, gold stash, be there!
He popped open the trunk door. He noticed that the carpet had been moved slightly. That’s a bad sign. A very bad sign. I’ve got a very bad feeling about this. This aint good.
David pulled the carpet to the side, moved the plastic housing, and spun off the wing nut. He pulled the spare tire up to see … Nothing! – nothing but black metal floorboard.
He stepped back, still looking at the vacated gold fillets’ spot on the tire indentation in the floorboard, feeling completely deflated. Mother sucker! They’re gone! I knew I should’ve taken it this morning. I blew it. I fucking blew it! Goddamit! I gambled with time and lost. I waited too long. Why did I wait? I should’ve distracted that Dale dude earlier this morning and hauled off with the gold. I could be sitting in Raleigh right now with over a million dollars in gold! In my house! Instead, I’m in this nasty, insect-infested, hot-ass junkyard with nothing. Zilch. Nada. David, how in the world could you misplay this so badly? I’ll be haunted by this for the rest of my life. How did I let this happen? I got overcautious, hesitated, tipped my hand, and lost. I lost out bigtime! Dumb, David. Very fucking dumb!
David slammed the trunk door shut. He looked up at the fair-weather cumulus clouds. The air was as hot as a blast furnace, but there was no gold ore for the infernal sun to smelt.
He looked down at some aphid-covered weeds and started analyzing the less-than-ideal situation. Maybe this isn’t over. It’s a safe bet that only one of two people has the gold: Dale or Gerald. Wait, maybe they cut a deal together. No, Dale would want it all and wouldn’t tell Gerald. Dale’s not the sharing type. It was his chance to best his boss and happily move away. I think I can safely rule out Gerald; he just arrived within the hour. But, why does Gerald not want me to buy the whole car for that inflated price? Why? Because he knows something is up. Dale’s behavior or what he said must have got his suspicion up. He knows that I saw something of high value in that car, and he will soon know that I know that it is now gone when I rescind my offer.
A ladybug was now crawling up the weed stalk, heading towards a couple of aphids. I wonder if they can share this weed. Will they go to war over it? Will one of them have to die?
David turned and looked at the attic window. I bet Dale was watching me the whole time. He probably saw me gawking at something in the trunk. He was up there on the porch looking at me. And when he wasn’t on the porch, he was probably observing me from some secret vantage point – that dark-tinted attic window. Maybe Dale acted odd or nervous when Gerald asked him about me and the trunk door. Maybe that was the tip-off for Gerald. Hell, Gerald’s probably watching me right now. I may even be on camera. Maybe Dale watched me discover the gold from some hidden camera. What a major fucking blunder! It was right there. Right there. You had it in your hands, David! It was right in your very hands! You blew it, boy! You most astonishingly blew it. What a life-haunting blunder this will be.
David looked back towards the house-office, trying to settle his heart rate. Yeah, Gerald’s probably observing me right now from that darkened attic window. Gosh, it’s so damn dark; it’s practically opaque black. It’s their main surveillance perch. Has to be. Why else would it be tinted? Yep, I’m sure that’s where they watch people on this side of the junkyard. I bet Dale got curious. When I left, I bet he ran down here and checked out the trunk. Voilà! We have a winner! He then put the gold in his vehicle and hauled it away. It’s probably in his vehicle or in his house right now. I need to figure out where he lives. I need Dale’s last name.
David walked back to the house-office, trying to hide his dejection. He wasn’t sure if he was succeeding. He entered the living room-office and took a seat on the couch. Gerald was still in the desk chair. I wonder if he was really sitting there the whole time. I sincerely doubt it.
“I think I’ll just buy the trunk door, Gerald.” A most interesting change of mind.
“What happened, David? Did you see some rust inside the trunk? Or, was it Jimmy Hoffa?” Gerald peered over the green banker’s lamp and gave him a contrived grin.
“No, nothing like that. I just need to be practical. Money’s tight. All I really need is that trunk door.” David thought that he sounded believable.
“How much are you willing to pay?” Gerald inquired with a roll of the eyes. Well, now we both know that we’re just going through the motions.
“How about one-fifty if you remove it for me. I forgot to bring my tools.” That’s quite a lowball offer, and he knows it, but I’ll accept it just to get his ass out of here.
“Deal. You got it, buddy. I’ll go out there now and take it off. You can cool your heels in here. It should only take fifteen minutes, tops. Just relax. You’ve driven a long way.” For nothing! Nothing but mental trauma of epic proportions.
“Ok, thanks,” David replied, trying to mask his crestfallen state of mind. At least I’ve scored a replacement trunk door – my consolation prize. Hell, he should give it to me for free. Well, I’ve still got a hot date later with Chantelle. Unless she cancels. Dammit, this is not over. Stay positive. Be smart. C’mon, David, outwit these fools.
David looked out the window behind the desk. He watched Gerald disappear into the rows of wrecked motor vehicles, carrying just a small, red, top-handled toolbox. I wonder how much Gerald knows. I’d love to be able to read his thoughts. What a mind game this is.
David scanned the top of the desk. He saw a salvage title, several automobile registration cards, some insurance papers, and a stack of unopened mail – all bills.
Then in the right-front corner under a white McRonald’s bag, he saw two card holders. There were over a dozen dusty, stained, yellowing-from-age business cards in each holder for both men: Gerald Zowen and Dale Smite. Ah, perfect! Maybe my luck is changing for the better. Hell, it couldn’t have gotten any worse. Time to rebound and make a clever comeback.
He snagged two of each. Then he put the fast-food paper bag back where it had been.
David then examined the contents of the trashcan. The only items in it were an empty package of strawberry-flavored bubble gum, red clumps of the already-been-chewed gum, a banana peel, a crumpled Mountain Zoo soft-drink can, and a wadded-up piece of paper. He un-wadded the piece of notepaper and read Dale’s message that he had posted on the door earlier. So, Mr. Opportunistic hauled the gold over to his house shortly after I left this morning. The gold is somewhere on Dale’s property, I bet. I just know it is.
Gerald returned in only thirteen minutes with trunk door in hand. David gave him eight twenty-dollar bills.
“You can keep the extra,” David said.
“Why, thank you, sir,” Gerald said while exhaling. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.” Yeah, I bet it has. How often does a customer tip you off to a million-dollar jackpot that was on your own premises, and is now in your associate’s possession? He’s just way too cool acting. He knows about the gold. I’m sure of it. Though, I’m not sure that he knows how much there is, but Dale sure does. I would still bet the farm that Dale has all of it at his house. In which room?
“I hope that Ford Focus turns out to be a real financial winner for you, Gerald,” David proclaimed after a tense pause. A little parting jab for ya, Gerald. / What a smug smart-ass.
“Oh, I think it already has, David.” Well, that cinches it.
David caught Gerald’s eye. The three-second staredown was almost input overload for each man’s brain, as both of them were fast-processing the nuances of each other’s expression. White smoke was almost coming out of their ears. Gerald is content with how this has gone down; he got the information he needed by my actions and statements. But, I got good info, too. He’s planning something. I can feel it in his eyes. He’d give me that trunk door for free just to get me the hell off his lot. He’ll be having a talk with Dale very soon. I’m sure of it. / I almost feel sorry for this techie. Almost. Enjoy the drive back to Raleigh, David. Close, but no cigar, amigo. Wait, will he really go back to Raleigh? Will he be hanging around? Maybe so. Must stay cautious. He may be scheming already.
“Well, I guess I’ll be heading back now.” I wonder if Gerald believes me. / Good riddance, millennial. Get the fuck lost! I got what I needed from you, tech-boy. Now, don’t let the front gate hit your rear bumper.
“Ok, I’ll put that trunk door in your trunk. Hey, in all my time in this business, I don’t think I’ve ever said that.” Gerald chuckled somewhat awkwardly. Hasta la vista, David. I got business to attend to with my dishonest associate. Happy travels and sappy travails. / So amusing. Not!
David just smiled at him. We’re both total fucking liars, and we both know it. David looked at his car. “Let me get the trunk open for you, Gerald.”
He got in his car and pulled the trunk-release lever. The dented trunk door popped open. Gerald placed the salvaged trunk door inside the like-new-empty trunk and closed the dinged-to-hell trunk door.
David then started the engine, backed up, and drove off, never looking at Gerald. What a weirdly and utterly dispiriting half-hour that was. But, it’s not over. Not by a longshot. / Must keep my wits about me. David may be lurking.
Gerald watched David’s car until it disappeared on Shipyard Boulevard. I hope that’s the last I see of him. Dale will be much easier to deal with. I’m going to squeeze him for the new location of that gold. The vise man is coming, Dale! I’m going to get you to cough it up, one way or another. I’m going to get that gold from you, you good-for-nothing thief!