Trouble at the Red Pueblo (22 page)

“Wow,” Spider said reverently. “I suppose it’s got overhead cams?”

“Yep,” Shorty said. “It’ll produce 241 horsepower.”

“Great suffering zot.” Spider still spoke in a hushed voice. “What kind of transmission?”

“Manual. It’s a four speed synchromesh, not without problems.”

“Is that the good news or the bad news?” Karam asked.

Shorty lowered the hood and made sure it was latched. “That’s the good news. I’ve found a rebuilt one in Los Angeles that I can have here in three days.”

“And the bad news?”

Shorty jerked his head toward a workbench. “Come over here and I’ll show you.”

“Can I sit in it?” Spider asked.

“Sure.” Karam spoke over his shoulder as he followed Shorty. “Be my visitor.”

“Guest,” Spider said, opening the door. “Be my guest.” Getting in the car took a bit of folding, but when he was finally in the bucket seat, he found he had plenty of leg room. Sitting was surprisingly comfortable, even though he was so low to the ground.

“Go ahead and start it,” Shorty said. “There’s nothing wrong with the engine.”

Spider turned the key, gave it some gas when the engine caught, and was immediately entranced with the throaty rumble enveloping him. He revved the engine and closed his eyes, wearing the throbbing of the powerful engine like a mantle pulled around him. Reluctantly, he turned off the key and looked over at Karam. “I think I’m in love.”

Karam grinned. “Careful. She is high maintenance.” He held up a small metal part.

Spider climbed out and noted the solid sound as he closed the door. “She’s way out of my league.” He walked over to join the two men. “Is that the bad news?”

“Yes,” Karam said. “I don’t understand what it is this does, but the part is essential and unavailable.”

“Let me see.” Spider held out his hand for the tapered cylinder. He hefted it and ran his thumb over the ridges scored at precise intervals down the length of it. “Couldn’t you machine it?” he asked Shorty.

“You could if you had the right lathe and lots of skill. I don’t have either one, and neither does anyone else in town.”

Spider handed the part back to Shorty. “I can do it.”

“You can?” Karam’s eyes widened and a smile lit his face.

“Yeah, but not ‘til I get back home, and that won’t be ‘til I’m through with what I’m doing here.” Spider watched the smile fade and tried to offer consolation. “You’re still looking at two weeks. Wasn’t that what you thought it was going to be anyway?”

Karam stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded. He walked back to the car in the driveway, kicking pebbles as he went, leaving Spider to say good-bye to Shorty.

“Glad to have met you,” Spider said. “Tell me, how is it that you know so much about E-types?”

Shorty wiped his hands on a rag and stuck it in his back pocket. “I spent thirty years in L.A. working for a Jaguar dealership. I started there the year they made this one.” He pointed to Karam’s car.

“So, how did you get from L.A. to Kanab?”

“Oh, after I retired, the wife and I bought a motor home. We were going to spend a couple years touring the U.S. of A. We planned to spend a couple weeks here in Kanab.” Shorty chuckled. “Been here ten years now.”

“So it was a good move?”

“The best.” Shorty walked with Spider out to where the Yugo was parked. “The fellows at the garage in town know I’m here, and if something comes along too exotic for them, they send it on up to me. Somehow, word’s got around that I know E-types. Every now and then, I get someone bringing one in.”

“Are there that many E-types in Kanab?”

Shorty laughed. “No, they come from California and Nevada. Even had one come from Wisconsin. Hey, there aren’t too many of us around that know how they work.” He looked Spider in the eye. “I could take on more work if I had a good machinist working with me.”

Spider held up his hands and took a step back. “I’m only here for a week or so.”

Shorty smiled. “That’s what I said ten years ago.”

Spider opened his door. “Want me to drop by before I leave town and see if you still need me to manufacture that part?”

“That would be great.” Shorty cast a glance at Karam, sitting slump-shouldered in the Yugo. “It’s hard on the young ‘un.”

“Yeah,” Spider agreed. “I’d better get him back to the festivities, see if we can find something to take his mind off the bad news.”

Shorty looked at his watch. “You’d better scoot. They’ll be closing streets for the parade any time.”

Spider touched the brim of his hat. “Thanks. We will.” He got in the car, started the engine, and drove around the circular drive and back onto the city street, heading towards the center of town.

Karam let out a big sigh and asked, “Do you believe in destiny?”

Spider noted the earnest expression on his companion’s face. “Does this have anything to do with your car?”

“Actually, it does.” Karam looked out the windshield as they dipped down into Kanab Creek Wash and pointed at a shady spot at the top. “Can you stop there? This may take a while.”

Spider’s eyebrows rose, but he pulled over, rolled down the windows, and turned off the engine. “Okay, shoot.”

Karam looked at his hands for a moment and then he met Spider’s questioning gaze. “You know I am Muslim.” He waited for Spider to nod assent and went on. “Belief in Allah’s power to know and control all things is one of the six articles of faith in Islam. It is called
Qadar
.”

“Destiny?”

“A special kind of destiny,” Karam said. “A person has the freedom, the choice to do as he wants, but he has no control over the outcome of his choices. It is Allah’s will that controls to what destiny that path will lead.”

The corners of Spider’s mouth lifted ever so slightly. “So what has
qadar
got to do with the E-type sitting in Shorty’s garage?”

Karam looked like he was trying not to smile. “You’re not saying it right. The R has to come from down in your throat. Ask your question again, but say it right this time.”

“I don’t know if I can remember it. What does…
qadar
… have to do with the E-type?”

“Excellent, Spider. Well said. Now I will answer.
Qadar
has everything to do with it.”

Spider smiled.

“No, I am serious, Spider. Think about it. Ten years ago my father warned me not to buy this kind of car. Instead, he wanted me to have a Yugo. Do you not think it is strange that after I bought the E-type and it left me stranded in a strange land, a friend comes to my aid in a Yugo? Does this not sound like divine destiny?”

“It sounds to me like God has a sense of humor.”

Karam looked at his hands. “You said you liked the Jag.”

“Well, yeah. What’s not to like? It’s easy to lose your heart to the sound of the engine.”

Karam cleared his throat. “Would you be interested in trading cars?”

Spider’s brow creased. Did he hear that right? “You mean the Yugo for the Jaguar? Straight across? That would hardly be fair.”

“Oh, but the repairs are paid for. You would not be responsible for any of that cost.”

“What I mean is your car is far more valuable than mine, and I can’t afford to give you something to boot.”

“Why would you give me your boots?”

“Giving something to boot means I’d give you extra money to make the deal fair. I can’t do that. In fact, I couldn’t even afford to buy the Yugo. It’s a hand-me-down car that someone gave me minutes before I met you.”

“Someone gave it to you?” Karam paused to think about that. “Do you not see? It is
Qadar
.”

Spider shook his head. “I can’t take advantage of you. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Karam smiled. “You would not be taking advantage of me, Spider. You would be doing me a favor. If you feel you need to offer me your boots, you can let me come spend some time with you each summer. That would certainly be extra value to me.”

“We’d love to have you come. Stay the whole summer if you like.”

“Then are we agreed?”

Spider offered his hand. “Agreed.” After a handshake he asked, “When do you want to take care of the details?”

“Right away. Much as I enjoy Kanab, I need to be on my way as quickly as I can.”

Spider started the car and pulled back on the road. “So when will you leave?”

“If the hotel has the Internet back up, I will finish the Goodman research today and be on my way tomorrow.”

“I’m going to miss you.” Spider signaled and turned left on Main Street only to be confronted with a barricade and a sign saying the road was closed. He pulled over to park near the curb. “I think this is as close as we get. They’ve closed the road for the parade.”

“I have not seen an American parade.” Karam grinned. “This is great.”

Spider checked his watch. “We’ve got an hour before it starts. Let’s go take care of the paperwork and make you the owner of a—” He didn’t finish the sentence because he had caught sight of a burgundy SUV making a U turn at the barricade.

Karam tipped his head in the SUV’s direction. “Is that the Range Rover we saw coming down the canyon while we were up on the hill at Jack’s?”

“Yes, it is. Can you tell how many people are in it?” Spider followed the car in his rearview mirror.

“No. The tinted windows do not let you see in.”

“But that’s definitely Austin Lee. Ha! He’s in town today.”

“Who is Austin Lee?”

“He’s the fellow behind the trouble at the Red Pueblo.” Spider opened his door. “As I was saying, let’s go get the paperwork done. We’ll make you the legal owner of this car, but before I give you the keys, I’ll run by and fill the tank.”

Karam got out of the car and closed his door. “That will be my boots.”

Spider climbed out, too, and pushed the lock button. “Yeah. That’ll be your boots.”

Together they walked down the street toward their hotel.

AT FOUR THAT
afternoon, Spider sat on the Taylor’s well-worn armchair
with his Stetson on his lap. Beneath the hat, Karam’s finished report lay in a businesslike folder. Neva and Martin sat on the couch opposite.

Spider noted the erectness of Martin’s shoulders and the alertness of his eyes. “You’re looking better, sir.”

Martin leaned back and crossed his legs. “Fine as frog’s hair.”

Neva smiled at her husband. “Well, maybe not that fine, but he’s definitely doing better.” She brushed a silver lock away from his brow.

Spider examined the toe of his boot, wondering how to approach the subject of Tiffany Wendt’s non-existent fortune. Looking up, he met two pairs of questioning eyes and plunged ahead. “Did Matt tell you anything about the conversation I had with him yesterday afternoon?”

Neva shook her head. “He called to tell us you’d be coming by today and said you had news.”

“He sounded pretty grim.” Martin uncrossed his legs and sat forward. “Don’t be afraid to give it to us straight.”

“I have good news, bad news, and just plain information. Let’s go over the bad news first.” Spider cleared his throat. “Tiffany Wendt isn’t going to save the Red Pueblo. She doesn’t have a fortune, and she isn’t going to give any money to the museum.” He paused to gauge their reaction.

Neva let out a sigh. “I’m so glad.”

Her husband pulled away and regarded her for a moment. “Because of Mattie?”

She nodded, her eyes misting up. “It’s been such a worry. Things have gone bad between him and Linda because he’s been paying attention to Tiffany. He’s been paying attention to Tiffany to try to save the museum. You can see he’s all torn apart.” She patted Martin’s knee. “Tiffany might have saved the museum, but in the process we could have lost our son.”

Martin put an arm around his wife and kissed her cheek. “You’re right. It’s better this way.”

A tear spilled over and ran down Neva’s cheek. “Even if we lose the museum?”

Martin was quiet for a moment. He cleared his throat and whispered, “My life’s work.”

“Your son is your life’s work,” she murmured.

Silence.

Spider shifted in his chair. “Let’s not give up yet.” He moved his Stetson from his lap to the coffee table in front of the couch. “I’ve got some good news for you, but I need to explain the lay of the land and how Austin Lee fits into what’s been happening at the Red Pueblo.”

Neva’s brows drew together. “Austin Lee? Isn’t he the good-looking fellow Linda took up with?”

“What’s he got to do with the museum?” Martin asked.

Spider explained all he had found out about Austin’s land development company, his mode of operation, and how he forced owners to sell prime property to him for fire sale prices.

Neva’s hand went to her mouth, and her eyes widened. “Was he behind the first lawsuit? The accident in the bathroom?”

“I’m pretty sure he was,” Spider said. “If you’ll give me the name of the woman who sued you, I’ll talk to her and find out.”

“Fabiola
De Pra
,” Neva said. “Who could forget a name like that?”