Daysha made a text message to Rory and Harlowe as she got ready to go to the car dealership on the list. She had checked a few others in the area, but came up with nothing. She hated having leads that went no where. Still not having heard from Lexi since she left there, she was a bit worried but maybe she'd take a drive out there soon.
Tom Hartman's Used Car Lot has a jingle that gets stuck in your head and keeps repeating on you. It makes it kind of impossible to forget Tom Hartman himself, in his loud jacket and huge grin, selling you cars at low, low, low prices!
The sky's overcast though, and the used car lot looks a bit more dreary than it should. Brightly coloured flags flop pathetically in the breeze, sodden from the previous rainfall. The cars are junkers, mostly, old paint peeling from rusted chassis, cracked fenders, scratched leather. But they're Guaranteed To RUN YOU HOME!!!
The lot's quiet at the moment. The bad weather must be keeping people away.
Thomas Hartman sat in his office behind his desk poring over some paper work and looking over his inventory. Sighing to himself the middle aged man removes his reading glasses and leans back, taking a break to glance out his office window to his lot. Not a soul in sight. It was days like this were perfect for catching up on the books but that was nearly as depressing a prospect as the weather outside. Sales were alright (could be better) but he was going to have to get in some new cars, he was suppose to have picked up a fresh load of used cars from the last police auction but had not made a single purchase.
Rising from his desk Tom stretches and tucks his button down shirt in before moving to the door, his legs were starting to fall asleep and he could use a walk around his office. Making his way to the break room Tom begins to make himself a pot of coffee and retrieves a day old doughnut from the box on the counter. Normally he would have a pot of coffee on all day and a fresh box of doughnuts (both glazed and jelly filled) for his employees and customers but on a day like this he had neither. His employees were of course all on commission and not paid by the hour but he had sent all three of them home anyway. He could handle the dealership today by himself and if anything came up he could call them back in.
Harlowe arrived some thirty minutes after she had responded to Daysha's text. Since arriving in Sacramento, she had needed something to get her teeth into - she had needed to do something productive, to take her mind off other matters. She hoped damned hard that this would be the distraction that she was searching for.
Uncle Tommy had suggested she get drunk. Her father had suggested church. She had settled on a punchbag, and shit, it was still wonderfully therapeutic.
Arriving at the lot, Harlowe stepped out of her car and peered around. The jingle was stuck in her head, and it wasn't a good thing. She hated "earworms".
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Rory walked up to the lot, having crossed the three blocks that the bus had dropped him off away from. He wore a light jacket over a bizarre purple plaid shirt and jeans, with a backpack strapped onto his back. Strapped on, rather than the more conventional, or 'cooler' look of being slung over one shoulder with a single strap. In short, if Raymond Babbitt were walking next to him, they'd look perfectly matched.
He whistled, something vibrant and triumphant, and if one had spent any time in a church, they'd recognize it was a church hymn.
He approached Sara Harlowe for a moment, until he got closer and realized she wasn't Daysha Jackson , then fished his phone out and studied it as if it were a magic 8ball that would produce answers.
Daysha pulled up in the black Charger. There was some 80's music playing that was drowning out the jingle while she was in the car. She parked close to where Harlowe and Rory were at. When she stopped the car she leaned down in the vehicle and then plugged something in. When she turned the car off she ducked suddenly. "Holy shit what is that!" The detective opened the door to hear the louder version of hit. “Christ, don’t people need permits for this shit?” Then she saw Rory not far away and realized she said Christ. Ahhh damn it.
She stepped out of the car with dark slacks, a deep green shirt and her leather jacket with hidden pockets. Because Daysha was a 'just in case' girl, there were several things on her person from the gun on her back, to the combat knife in her boot under her jeans. She was probably over prepared, as anyone could guess if they looked in her trunk but... well, you never know.
Daysha nodded to Harlowe. “Thanks for meeting me here. Sorry I’m a little late. I was in the middle of a call and my Bluetooth died. I had to pull over and finish it up.” She gave a quick real smile to Rory. Fuck I hate running late. “So, Harlowe and I saw this note on the board in the basement. Now, the police are unable to comment because they have no leads other than it’s an older car. I’ve checked into some other lots and came up with nothing really. There’s something odd about this case. And I think we should start from somewhere.” Daysha said as she looked at them both. “It was a hit and run in the middle of the night. Witnesses said the car came out of nowhere and vanished.”
Mentally snapping her fingers. It's only been a week or so, I wonder if Rory still wants to watch The Rite.
Hartman steps out of the break room with his fresh cup of coffee and a (third) doughnut in his hands. As he passes the empty front area of his offices he takes a cassual glance out of the large windows into his lot, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of people at the edge of his property, only just beyond the farthest rows of used cars that faced the streets. Customers, on a day like this? It wasn't unheard of but it was rare enough to take him by surprise. Setting his mug down at an empty desk and wolfing down the last half of his day old baked delight Tom steps closer to the window to get a better look at the people arriving at his care dealership. By the looks of it there were at least three of them, and two cars. Happily Tom dashes off to his office to grab his jacket, licking his sausage like fingers clean of sugar before sliding into it and stepping back to the front.
Opening the front door Tom steps out into the dreary weather, smoothing his recently died hair down with his off hand as he slowly made across the lot. Maybe if he was lucky he could get talk one of these car owners into a trade in, an amazing feet on a day like this (If he could pull it off).
Harlowe slammed her car door shut, and zipped up her coat as she peered around at the lot with a relatively unsavoury expression plastered to her face. The last time she had had her damned car repaired, a fucking moron who couldn't take "no" for an answer had tried to sell her a new one, in the steadfast hope of getting his commission for the day. After three hours of almost constant babble and sales-pitch talk, Harlowe had left with the notion that a hit and run wouldn't be such a bad idea.
Sure, not all car-salesman were going to be that annoying; but she had woke up that morning feeling like a cup half-empty kinda gal.
Seeing Rory approach, Harlowe gave a curt nod but shifted her attention to the building ahead a moment later. She was sort of relieved to see Daysha appear, not least because she tended to dread the possibility of idle chatter. "Don't worry about it," Harlowe answered, and reflexively checked her watch. She had dealt with people being later than this; and at least Daysha had a reason for it.
"-Which brings us to this place," Harlowe commented. The sight of Tom emerging from the building drew her attention, and she half turned to study the salesman.
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Rory nodded, digesting the fact that the two women knew one another, and filing away the questions about the 'board in the basement' for later. It was a footnote to a long list of what he didn't know; that Daysha didn't even realize he had no idea what she'd meant. He gave a small smile and wave to Harlowe, unable to help but focus on her eyebrows for a quick moment.
"OK."
He said it because it seemed like something that needed saying, or that he needed to say something. More importantly, that he was ready and willing. The reality of the situation began to sink in, and he looked around at the car lot.
Are car trunks the new coffins?
One word answer with no questions, that’s never good. Daysha really hoped Rory was exactly that “ok” with doing this. After their talk at the diner, it seemed like he would be.
She saw Tom coming out of the office. Daysha’s face was in a perpetual state of wincing from the fucking jingle. “Is this to lure customers or drive them away?” She asked to Harlowe and Rory right before Tom joined them.
Her cell phone vibrated in her breast pocket and she put her hand over her chest for a moment. Then she reached into her jacket and pulled out the phone. Her face was still winced, but puzzled and she replied to Quinn’s text. She put her phone back in the pocket and looked at the salesman. “Hey Tom, if I realized this was your lot, I would have called ahead.” And if I watched TV at all, I may have recognized you before.
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