Scorcher

Chapter 21

Joel Dewitt’s car and motorcycle dealership was on a bend on Haven Avenue in Fort Lauderdale. It was flanked by two used-car lots, each with strings of red, white, and blue vinyl pennants draped above the front row of cars that were facing the street with headlights and grilles shining and eager, like puppies vying for adoption. About half the businesses in the block had American flags flying, or suspended in display windows. Patriotism for sale; Commie kisser if you didn’t buy. Most of the cars on the lots were Japanese or European. The pennants fluttered and flapped like crazy when the wind barely breathed.

There were no pennants at Dewitt Motors. It was a neat, square brick building squatting on a blacktop lot. Late-model used cars were arranged in two rows in front of it, with an aisle wide enough so that the small showroom was visible from the street. Some of the cars had prices soaped on their windshields, along with Cream Puff, Virgin, or Low, Low Miles. The offices, where deals were consummated, were in back of the showroom, in which half a dozen new motorcycles were displayed. Besides Honda cycles there were a few larger and heavier American-made Harley-Davidsons. Apparently Dewitt didn’t sell used cycles.

When Carver entered the cool showroom he saw Dewitt immediately. Nadine’s fiance was standing by a Coke machine, sipping from a red-and-white can and talking to a short, dark woman with bangs that almost completely concealed her eyes. He had on a pastel green shirt, striped aquamarine tie, and pleated blue slacks; he looked like an animated Picasso from his Day-Glo period. For neutrals he was wearing a white belt and white loafers. Carver thought a checked sportcoat would make it an ideal outfit for selling used cars. Maybe Elana Kave disliked Dewitt because of the way he dressed. Or maybe he had a few toned-down outfits especially for wearing to the Kave estate.

He noticed Carver, excused himself from his conversation with the woman with bangs, and walked across the showroom. The machine-gun chatter of an air wrench popped off out of sight behind him. Must be a service bay out back.

Dark green opaque plastic shades had been strategically lowered so that the sun was blocked everywhere but where it was needed to make the chrome on the motorcycles glitter. Dewitt squinted as he crossed a sunny patch and smiled. He extended his hand. He was quintessential salesman here in his showroom, a creature of his environs. Possibly the flashy clothes were his work uniform.

Carver shook the hand, glanced around at the empty showroom, and asked how business was.

“Most of our customers come in evenings,” Dewitt said, “when they’re off work and looking for ways to spend their money. You here because you’re interested in that cycle we talked about? I can put you on that big Harley at a better-than-fair price.” He pointed to a sleek silver-and-black machine that looked capable of creating sonic booms.

“I’m past the age for cycles,” Carver said.

Dewitt smiled handsomely and his alert blue eyes flicked up and down Carver as if he were sizing up a trade-in. “Some guys hit forty and they get paunchy and soft. For some reason, others get tough. You could still handle a big cycle, despite the bad leg. Bet you’d enjoy hell out of it.”

“Maybe someday when I’ve got something to outrun,” Carver said. “I thought I’d drop by and ask you about the Kave family when we were alone and you could talk.”

Dewitt rested a hand on the chrome handlebar of a Honda. “What about the Kaves?”

“Why’s Elana so set against you marrying Nadine?”

Dewitt laughed and waved his free hand to encompass the showroom. “Maybe she doesn’t consider this a respectable way to turn a buck. Not like getting rich selling hot dogs pumped full of chemicals.” He suddenly got serious. “Sometimes I catch Elana looking at me oddlike, Carver. I mean odd for her. Like Nadine looks at me. So maybe she likes me a little after all.”

Carver put that one down to male ego. “Is Nadine concerned about her mother’s resistance to the marriage?”

“Sure. But it isn’t going to stop us. Nadine’s a girl with her own stubborn streak. I’ll tell you, a kind of bullheadedness seems to run strong in the Kave family.”

“Hard not to notice. Would she marry you because of her family’s disapproval?”

“Not a fair question, Carver. But the answer is no. Anyway, Adam doesn’t really disapprove of me. One entrepreneur respects another. Maybe eventually there’ll be as many Dewitt Motors as there are Adam’s Inns.” Dewitt stood away from the cycle and crossed his arms, smug in his vision of grandeur. Carver got the impression he thought a lot about that projected golden future. “But what’s all this got to do with you looking for Paul?”

“I’m wondering if Nadine would tell you if Paul contacted her.”

Dewitt thought about that, shifting his weight from leg to leg. “If I asked her to she’d tell me. But that doesn’t mean she’d volunteer the information without my asking. Nadine and Paul are close. They gotta be, the shitty way Adam treats them. Especially the way he treats Paul. Letting him know one way or another all the time how useless he is. Wouldn’t surprise me if Paul’s innocent of those murders and just made up his mind to get the hell away from the family.”

“Was Adam really that hard on him?”

“Any dog in its right mind would run away from Adam.”

“What did Elana think of Adam’s treatment of their kids?”

“She doesn’t live in the real world, Carver. She’s got her own problems. Way Nadine describes it, that’s how Elana always was, even before the cancer.” Dewitt glanced to the side, as if to make sure no one had wandered into the showroom to overhear. “You know about Elana’s cancer, Carver?”

“Yeah, I was told.”

“Well, I’m not supposed to know. Nadine told me anyway. She’s not supposed to know how serious it is, but she does. Keep quiet I mentioned it, okay?”

“Sure.” Carver wondered if the cancer was why Dewitt didn’t particularly care whether Elana approved of his engagement to Nadine. In another year or so, how she felt wouldn’t matter.

“I feel sorry for Elana,” Dewitt said, “though she’d never believe it if I told her.”

“Would Paul run away without telling Nadine where he is?” Carver asked.

“No, that doesn’t ring right.”

Carver hadn’t thought it would. He noticed the short woman with the bangs seated at a desk in a small office with the door open, talking on the phone and jotting something on a note pad with a long yellow pencil. Talking, erasing, talking, jotting. A salesperson making it all possible for someone with a dream of new paint and chrome. Out on the lot a man in a blue suit, with a skinny teen-age boy wearing a black sleeveless muscle shirt, was looking over the cars. The boy yanked on a door handle and found it locked. The man kicked a tire. Actually kicked a tire.

“How close to the family is Nick Fanning?” Carver asked.

“Not close to the family at all, but close to Adam. Fanning’s the guy who makes the day-to-day decisions for Adam’s Inns. He’s a damned sharp executive. Brains up the ass. Adam trusts him.”

“Think he should?”

Dewitt shrugged. “Sure. Don’t see why not. And Adam isn’t the sort to trust anyone without good reason.”

“He might have something on Fanning?”

“He might. But that’s not what I meant. I was only saying Adam’s nobody’s fool. He couldn’t be, to have made it the way he has.”

“He doesn’t seem to have been very bright where his children are concerned.”

“True enough. But Nadine turned out all right. Paul. . well, he’s a nice enough guy but kinda odd. A genuine loner. I guess somebody like me doesn’t really understand that, huh? Maybe Nadine doesn’t really understand it either. Tell you, Carver, Nadine’s the cream of that clan.”

“Will you ask her?” Carver said.

Dewitt grinned. “Already did. She said yes.”

“I mean, every once in a while, will you ask her if she’s talked with Paul? Find out for me where he is?”

“No, I can’t do that,” Dewitt said, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Your decision.” A loyalty point for Dewitt. “But anything you do feel you can tell me,” Carver said, “I’d appreciate it.”

“All right,” Dewitt said, “that’s a deal. But Nadine’s gotta know.”

“We’re talking about murder,” Carver told him, pressing again.

“Nadine’s gotta know,” Dewitt repeated, unmoved.

Carver nodded. “Okay, if that’s how it has to be.”

“That’s it. I guess I’m a little bit stubborn like Nadine.”

“No,” Carver said, “not like Nadine.” He limped across the neat square showroom toward the glass doors to the lot, thinking Elana should get to know Dewitt better. Nadine could do worse.

As he pushed out into the sun he glanced back. Dewitt was watching him and held out his hands palms down and fingers curled, as if he were riding a motorcycle. He twisted his right hand, the throttle hand, and said, “Vroom! Vroom! Sure you’re not interested?”

“You ride a cycle?” Carver asked.

“Not me,” Dewitt said. “I got too much to lose.”