Taking Care of Business
by Terri "Tex" Zavaleta
John Dunne tossed his keys from one hand to the other as he stepped off the elevator into the quiet, almost empty parking garage attached to the Federal Building. It had been a long week and a tiring day. His team had stayed late on this Friday evening to tie up loose ends after a successful bust. They were all looking forward to a relaxing evening at The Saloon for dinner and a few drinks before heading home for the weekend. Josiah and Nathan had gone ahead about thirty minutes ago to get a table and put in the food order so it would be ready when the rest of the team arrived.
Since it was after working hours for most employees in the building and the beginning of the weekend, the parking garage had pretty much emptied out, leaving behind the slight mustiness of dust and gasoline fumes. The night lighting had come on with the setting of the sun and the soft glow created odd shadows around the few cars and trucks remaining. The silence seemed almost spooky. It was definitely a total change from the usual cacophony that ensued at quitting time with slamming doors, the growl of engines, and the calls of employees bidding each other a good weekend.
Normally, JD would consider that he was in a safe location and not pay particular attention to his surroundings. There was no reason to expect any kind of problem so he wasn't looking for one-but then he heard something.
He was not by nature a suspicious young man, but constant exposure to those who were-suspicious, even paranoid, by nature-had caused him to become more apt to think before reacting. He had been informed on numerous occasions that there was no such thing as a 'safe' place, that he needed to be prepared for trouble, off duty or on, and look for anything that seemed out of place or unusual. Funny, but the most paranoid little voice in his head spoke with a Southern drawl.
So when he heard the grinding sound of a car engine failing to catch ignition and the subsequent slamming of a car door, he didn't rush forward into an unknown situation to offer aid. He went to check it out. With a stealth learned by observing Vin Tanner, he made his way to the other side of a concrete pillar to get an unobstructed view before proceeding.
He didn't recognize the car, a very old and well-used Buick Skylark, but he did recognize the lady who'd gotten out of the car and slammed the door shut before leaning against it. It was the head of the admin offices, Mrs. Teresa Tidwell.
Normally, having discovered a 'damsel in distress', as Ezra would have put it, or a 'lady in need of help' as Buck would have expressed it, Dunne would have walked over and offered assistance to the lady in question. One thing froze him in place-well, two things.
First, though he'd gotten to know her a bit last Christmas, he still found Mrs. Tidwell intimidating. When he spoke to her he always feared she was going to tell him his face was dirty or that his zipper was down…something embarrassing at least.
And second, she was crying. Or about to. Her expression wasn't the usual placid mask, her eyes were closed, and her lower lip seemed to be trembling. Her fists were clenched as if she were restraining herself from hitting something…or someone?
Going over to offer assistance was not really a good idea. He didn't do well with crying women, even ones he knew well. Everything he said seemed to be the wrong thing. The few times he'd tried to comfort an upset Casey, he'd been informed he didn't know anything about women. Conceding that possibility in light of his past failures, he considered his options now.
Option one - Buck, Ezra, Chris, and Vin were still upstairs or maybe on the way down by now. He could call one of them. Any or all of them were on relatively easy terms with the formidable Mrs. Tidwell. Hell, Ezra and Vin sometimes called her 'Tessa' with a confident familiarity that Dunne somewhat envied.
Option two- She was a very competent woman so he could just go on his way and leave her in peace. She probably didn't need any help and wouldn't thank him for interfering.
But-she was crying…or about to. It looked like she was fighting for control of her emotions. So maybe it wasn't just because the car wouldn't start? He couldn't decide if her expression indicated frustration, anger or some other unknown emotion. His people reading skills had improved under the tuition of Ezra Standish, but he still didn't trust himself to get it right every time…especially with women.
Dunne backed away quietly, heading back towards the elevators and hopefully out of her hearing range. He pulled out his cellphone and called the self-acknowledged expert on women. "Buck, get down here."
"I'm in the elevator now. Down where?" the ladies' man replied, growing wary at JD's tone. The kid had just left five minutes ago. Could even he have found trouble that fast?
"Parking garage," Dunne muttered.
"You need back up?" The terse question came from Tanner who was evidently standing next to Buck. He had ears like a bat-or JD had not been whispering into the phone as quietly as he'd thought.
"Uh, sort of."
"What the hell-never mind. Be there in a sec." Wilmington hung up the phone, exchanging glances with Standish and Tanner before turning his attention to watching the flashing floor numbers move incredibly slowly. Their hands unconsciously moved to check their weapons were in reach.
When the elevator doors slid open, Dunne was standing right in front of them, toe tapping impatiently as he tried not to fidget. Thinking he was being subtle, he raised his voice, just a shade too loud for it to sound natural. "Gosh, Buck, what took you so long?" He jerked his head in the direction of Mrs. Tidwell's car. Met with blank looks from Wilmington, Tanner, and Standish, he widened his eyes and stared at them pointedly.
"I wanted to, uh, get that… thing…out of your truck."
The other three men frowned at him and exchanged glances.
"You know… that… thing." He jerked a thumb to indicate something behind him. More blank looks were his reward. He never did well at charades. He grimaced then shrugged and waved a beckoning hand as he started walking.
Still not having a clue what he was going on about, but understanding from his manner that there was no immediate danger, the other three took their hands off their guns and followed their youngest as he retraced his steps, steps that were uncharacteristically loud as he clomped his boot heels on the concrete floor so as to provide a warning of their approach.
As they came around a concrete column into the next parking area, JD exclaimed brightly, "Oh, hi, Mrs. Tidwell. Didn't know you were still here. Are you having car trouble?"
If she hadn't been upset, she might have picked up on the heavy-handed tone of that remark…or wondered why he'd even ask that when she was standing outside the car, not ineffectively trying to start it at the moment.
The other three agents, being better acquainted with JD and quick to pick up on hints, understood right away. Granted, they all came to their conclusions through their own observations and past experience in dealing with distraught women, but they did get the point of JD's call now.
The footsteps approaching and JD's loud verbal cue had given the lady time to get her face under control, but there was still a hint of tears in the dampness of her lashes and her voice was not quite steady as she forced a polite smile and replied, "Yes, JD. I'm afraid it won't start…again."
Without the need for words, each man stepped in with his own variety of expertise. Clearing the way for the others, Ezra Standish drew the lady a few feet away from the car, discreetly offering a silk handkerchief as he ignored her discomfiture. The Southerner started a mild mannered rant against all things automotive with regard to unreliability and the proclivity of inanimate objects timing mishaps to maximize inconvenience. He cited several instances of his own Jaguar's fallibilities in an attempt to lighten the mood.
JD stood with them, nodding his head in agreement now and then, though he wasn't sure he was getting every point Standish was making. It seemed to be working. Did Ezra really think his Jag was plotting against him? He shook his head and decided not to ask. He could see Mrs. Tidwell was relaxing and calming down and even managed a genuine smile once.
After a brief consultation with Wilmington, consisting of a raised eyebrow and a nod respectively, Vin Tanner reached into the car and popped the hood lock, seating himself in the driver's seat, ready to receive instructions.
Buck Wilmington moved to the front of the car, propped the hood up and took a look at the engine and battery. He wiggled the battery cables to be sure they were firmly attached. "Try it, Vin."
There was a grinding sound but no ignition. "Not the battery," Wilmington announced. "Dang." He peered closer. "Is this all original equipment, Tessa? It could be the starter."
"What? It can't be," she said with a hint of dismay. "I just had it replaced. The repair bill was almost $500." She joined Buck at the front of the car, trailed by Standish and Dunne.
"Five hundred dollars?" Tanner drawled. "To change out a starter? Where did you take it?"
"Is that an outrageous amount?" she asked, dubiously. She sighed and tried to hide her distress. "The mechanic said…I don't want to sound like some helpless idiot, but I don't know much about cars. My husband…" She stopped to clear her throat. "Beau always took care of everything to do with the cars. He used to… I know I was hopelessly spoiled, but he even used to wash my car and fill the gas tank every Saturday." Tears flooded her eyes.
There was a moment of silence. Buck casually moved to enfold her in his arms, allowing her to rest her head momentarily on his broad shoulder. The others couldn't hear what he was saying as he whispered in her ear, but knew he was trying to ease her grief and allow her to mourn the loss of her husband for a few moments.
Giving them the gift of privacy, Tanner went to take a look at the starter for himself. With a cocked eyebrow, he summoned Standish and Dunne. "Y'all take a look and tell me if you see one new part in this car."
After a cursory look Standish said, "JD, look in the glove compartment and see if there's an invoice for the repairs there," Most people tended to keep their repair receipts in the car just to have them handy.
Dunne complied and produced an invoice from Buddy's Body Shop, a business located in a middle class neighborhood not far from the Federal Building. As they read over the details of the recent 'repair', Standish and Tanner compared what they were reading with what they were seeing under the hood.
"That sneaky little shit," was Tanner's conclusion.
"What?" Mrs. Tidwell asked, withdrawing from Buck's comforting embrace and making an effort to regain her composure while putting Ezra's handkerchief to work wiping her cheeks and patting at her eyes. "What did Buddy do? I thought he knew what he was talking about. This is the first time since…since I lost my husband that I've had car trouble. I needed the car to get to work so I took it to the nearest shop and told him to just do what needed to be done."
JD winced but was smart enough to know he shouldn't comment. He'd leave that to the more tactful members of his team. Hell, even Casey would have known to take him or Vin with her to a mechanic if her car needed repair. Or Nettie's shotgun.
Standish stepped into the breech. "Unfortunately, Tessa, there are dishonest businessmen everywhere. Car repair shops and even car salesman have a reputation for abusing the trust of women. He picked up on your lack of knowledge and your trusting nature and took advantage of you."
"He didn't put any new parts in," Tanner interrupted, getting to the point. "All he did was fix the old one and reinstall it and then billed you for a new one. And some of this other stuff he added was totally unnecessary. Sounds like he baffled you with bullshit-excuse the expression."
"It's not unusual when a woman takes a car in," Wilmington said. "Damn their hides. Don't mean to sound sexist but it happens."
"I feel like an idiot. I should have…I suppose I should have asked for advice, but I thought I could handle it myself. Do I have any recourse?" She was much calmer now and beginning to get angry which meant the frosty look was coming on.
"Other than letting me beat the shit out of him?-begging your pardon, ma'am," Vin retorted, angry himself that someone would take advantage of a widowed lady, much less a friend of his.
"Now, Mr. Tanner," Standish remonstrated, "there are much more effective means for dealing with such a nasty piece of work." His sweet smile was almost as scary as Larabee's best glare.
"Legally?" Tessa asked, eyeing them warily. She wasn't sure if she really cared at this point, but it seemed wise to know the parameters of any conspiracy, especially when Team Seven became involved.
Wilmington, Dunne, and Standish mimed shock, horror, and who, me?
Tanner replied, "Legal as it needs to be. Sometimes a lesson needs teachin'."
A slow, wicked smile grew on each face-even the lady's.
Early on Saturday morning, Judge Travis took a call from Special Agent Chris Larabee who advised him that Team Seven might be running late for Billy's birthday luncheon with the Travis family but would definitely be there. They had another commitment to attend to first.
"You're going to what?" The judge wasn't sure if he'd heard correctly.
"Take place in a show of force," Larabee responded coolly. "The boys-"
"Do I really want to know?" Travis sighed. If they weren't so damned good at their jobs, he'd wonder if those boys were worth all the trouble.
"Probably not," Larabee said in his usual direct manner.
"I'll take your word for it. But inform your Merry Men that I will not be posting bail or running interference with any police departments or other federal agencies. Or hospitals." That covered every contingency that immediately came to mind.
Larabee considered that for a moment. "Shouldn't be necessary, Judge. Josiah might get a bit old testament but he hasn't been drinking so-"
"Call me later." Travis hung up quickly. He wanted plausible deniability.
Most automotive repair shops are redolent with the aromas of motor oil, diesel, transmission or washer fluid, rubber tires, and gasoline. Most automotive repair shops have neatly arrayed displays of equipment, tools, and car products for use or sale. Most automotive repair shops are relatively clean outside the immediate area where the messy business of car repair actually takes place.
Buddy's Body Shop was not like most. The usual aromas were overlaid with a distinctly stale oil and musty grease odors. Tools and equipment were strewn carelessly around the garage, spilling off cabinets and tables, to fall onto the floor. The entire shop had a nasty, grimy look that extended even to the customer's waiting room in the front office.
Buddy himself was a human reflection of the state of his repair shop. Short, stocky, a balding, bewhiskered, and belligerent middle-aged man in a filthy orange jumpsuit in command of what was basically a one-man operation. There was not much going on this Saturday morning. He looked up from his perusal of a tabloid's titillating headlines and saw trouble coming. Buddy knew trouble when he saw it. There was an intruder poking around.
Said intruder was dressed in a forest green suit that probably cost more than Buddy's whole wardrobe. He was also wearing a tie, expensive leather shoes, and a disdainful expression as he surveyed Buddy's kingdom.
Trailing in his footsteps was an obsequious younger man in a cheaper suit who was carrying a notebook and evidently taking down the older man's every comment.
A suit. Guys in suits like that didn't spend time in this neighborhood. Suits always meant trouble to a businessman. He got up from his desk chair with a slight grunt and headed for the front door to intercept the man who was now inspecting the array of parts offered for sale on the wall when another arrival distracted him.
A green Ford Explorer pulled into the parking space in front of the repair bay and a tall African American man got out of the car. His appearance was casually elegant which piqued Buddy's interest. His typical customer was more in the blue collar line. Buddy smirked. He could probably sell this guy almost anything since he looked kind of preppy and probably wouldn't dirty his hands trying to fix his own car.
Before he made his way across the parking lot, he was forced to stop as another vehicle pulled in, crossing his path and parking near the entry to the repair bay. The arrival of a tow truck wasn't that unusual, especially when he was getting a repeat customer. He snickered as he recognized both the Buick Skylark and the woman riding in the passenger seat of the tow truck and wasn't terribly surprised to see them. The other guy would wait. He put on a concerned look and went to greet her as the tow truck driver, a tall lanky man with a mustache, disembarked.
A black Dodge Ram followed the tow truck in and parked next to it. A long-haired guy in ratty jeans, boots, a white T-shirt and a flannel over-shirt got out of the passenger side. He was joined by the driver, a lean blond dressed in black-who had a very scary frown on his face as he studied the shop and its contents, before turning his attention and his scowl on the shop's owner.
Buddy hardly noticed the older man who got out of the back seat, oddly enough carrying a wooden box. The old guy moved to the sidewalk directly in front of the entrance to the parking lot near the street corner and seemed to be waiting for something.
Buddy looked back from watching that man to find that he was being surrounded-by three men more intimidating than the usual dissatisfied customer. Hell, he'd had plenty of customers come back to complain, most of them women, but none of them had ever brought a posse before.
Sensing a possible vulnerability, he focused on the woman and hoped she could keep her pit bulls on a tight leash. "Something wrong, Miss… uh…" Damn. Couldn't remember her name.
"Mrs. Tidwell," the long-haired guy drawled, supplying the name. "She was only in here the other day. Don't look like you got enough customers to make it hard to remember their names." He ran a disinterested glance around the place, resembling a sleepy, blue-eyed mountain lion-who was looking for prey but willing to bide its time.
"Mrs. Tidwell." Buddy accepted the correction and pasted on an unconvincing apologetic smile. Trying for business-like and charming, he asked, "Is there a problem?"
"I think so," the lady stated firmly. "My car refused to start again last night which I found quite disconcerting since you assured me you'd taken care of the problem two days ago."
The mustached guy spoke up in a menacing tone. "She was lucky she got stranded in the parking garage at work. It could have happened anywhere."
Damn, he looked scary too. "Now that's hardly my fault," Buddy blustered. "That car is old…"
The very mean-looking blond stepped closer and leaned in to pierce him with hazel-green eyes that seemed to burn a hole right through him. "Yeah, the car is old… and evidently so is the new starter you put in."
Before Buddy could work up enough saliva in his suddenly dry mouth to respond, the African American joined the party, his voice booming loudly. "Are you saying this man pretended to do a repair? Does he do shoddy work? Or was it just fraud?"
"Fraud?" the Suit came forward, followed by his assistant. "Make a note of that, Mr. Dunne. This may need investigating by the Denver Auto Mechanic/Body Shop licensing division."
"What?" Buddy snapped to attention, turning around to face the new threat. "Hey, wait a minute…"
"Don't forget the Hazardous Waste issue, sir," Dunne added. "The smell alone…"
"Ah, yes. If improperly disposed…"
"Hey! What are you talking about? I got the licenses and permits…" Buddy protested.
The Suit showed his teeth but it wasn't really a smile. "Yes, you do have them… for now. And Dunne, remind me to check for complaints to the Better Business Bureau. We may need to interview other customers to see if there is a pattern of fraudulent…"
"I don't think I'm going to have him look at my car if he can't be trusted," the African American announced loudly. His voice carried to those on the sidewalk who'd stopped to listen. One man nodded and nudged his companion. All the fuss quickly drew a crowd from the neighborhood. Close to thirty men, women and children were slowly gathering and watching, some with gleeful malice to see if the mechanic was in trouble. No one made an effort to step forward or defend him.
Larabee assessed Buddy. Yup, close to cracking. Now for the finishing touch. He raised a hand and brushed it through his hair as he watched Buddy splutter and attempt to refute Standish's accusations.
Josiah got the signal and took his place. Standing on his wooden box on the sidewalk in front of the shop's parking lot entry, he began to declaim loudly, "In Exodus 22 and 23, The Lord said, Ye shall not afflict any widow or fatherless child. If thou afflict them in any wise, and they cry at all unto Me, I shall surely hear their cry!"
"Hey! He can't do that!" Buddy made an ineffectual attempt to go toward Josiah but found his way blocked.
"Sure, he can," Nathan Jackson smugly informed him. "Freedom of speech laws apply and he's on public property."
"God has a harsh judgment for those who abuse positions of trust, especially those who take advantage of the helpless!" Josiah rebuked, pointing a finger in Buddy's direction. "God shall judge your works! Malachi 3:5 - And I will come near to you to judgment; and I will be a swift witness against the sorcerers, and against the adulterers, and against false swearers, and against those that oppress the hireling in his wages, the widow, and the fatherless, and that turn aside the stranger from his right, and fear not me, saith the Lord of hosts!"
The crowd applauded and shouts of "Amen" were heard.
"You know, Chris, Mary Travis might want to do a story about this for her paper-the Denver Clarion," Tanner suggested. "You could call her and I bet she'd be right down here with a photographer. Being a widow herself-"
Buddy caved. "What do you want from me?"
With no attempt to hide their smiles of satisfaction, they told him.
In the expansive and shaded acreage behind the Travises' home, Billy and his friends were playing tag and working up an appetite for lunch. Rain Jackson was keeping an eye on the action as Mary and Evie got the table set and placed lawn chairs. Judge Travis was lighting the grill so the hamburgers and steaks could be cooked when all the guests arrived.
Evie Travis looked up from the birthday candles she was placing on her grandson's cake as she heard the sounds of several vehicles arriving in the driveway on the side of the house. Evie nudged her husband to get his attention. "I think the boys are here."
Judge Travis turned to face their approach. Well, no visible damage-but that didn't guarantee anything with this bunch. Nathan looked calm and good-humored and that indicated there really was no one injured. This time.
The judge caught himself before allowing surprise to show on his face. They had Tessa Tidwell with them? What in the world… "Hello, boys. Not too late then. Mrs. Tidwell."
For some reason this greeting seemed to convulse Standish and Dunne. Wilmington took out his wallet and handed Standish a bill. The judge scowled at them on general principle then introduced the lady to his wife and daughter-in-law who took her arrival with Team Seven with aplomb.
"So pleased to meet you," Tidwell said. "I didn't want to intrude but Ezra said you wouldn't mind if I came along."
Ezra, was it? the judge thought as Evie reassured their unexpected guest that there was always room for one more.
Ezra? Evie thought, with a matchmaking smile. At most gatherings that involved the team, Larabee paired off with Mary, Nathan brought Rain, JD sometimes brought Casey, and Buck, Vin, and Josiah arrived with various dates. Only Ezra had never been accompanied. She'd heard Orin speak of the formidable Mrs. Tidwell a few times and had thought she'd be much older and much less attractive. Maybe….
"Chris!" Billy had spotted his hero. He ran over to greet the new arrivals, followed by his friends. There was a flurry of greetings, introductions, and presents being deposited on the side table already piled high then play resumed with most of Team Seven joining in a new game.
Tidwell, not being one for sitting idle, offered to help. She joined Rain, Mary, and Evie in the kitchen to help finish off the side dishes and prepare toppings for the ice cream that was to accompany the cake. She also understood that as a newcomer she would be grilled like a suspect -but it would be done in a genteel, lady-like manner, of course.
Josiah offered to take over the grill. He needed something to do himself and didn't have the energy for keeping up with the children. The judge gratefully accepted and left him to it.
Settling himself into a lawn chair in the shade of the tree that sheltered the large picnic table, Travis looked at Larabee and beckoned him over.
The rest of the team had vanished into the wooded area, keeping the kids entertained by playing Hide and Seek. Of course, they didn't call it that. They called it 'Bounty Hunter' and Tanner was 'it'.
Larabee seated himself next to Travis, prepared to report on the morning's activities. Though reluctant to admit it, the judge was usually highly entertained by some of the things his boys got up to…when they kept it low profile.
Larabee watched Tanner 'take down' the villainous Nathan Jackson to delighted giggles from the audience hidden in the trees. Having been bound to a tree with make-believe handcuffs, Nathan sat in the shade and tried to look like a disgruntled prisoner, though in fact he was enjoying the chance to catch his breath. Tanner returned to his hunt, dissolving into the trees like a shadow.
"So? This show of force?" Travis prompted.
"Have you ever heard of Buddy's Body Shop?" Larabee inquired. He gave the judge a quick rundown on what had prompted Team Seven to target the underhanded mechanic.
The judge winced. If anything was going to prompt the boys to take action, it was the abuse of power, especially when the target was a lady. Especially when the lady in question was an acquaint-a friend-a-no, he didn't want to consider the possibilities. Having Tidwell romantically involved with any of them presented fraternization difficulties. "So what did you do?"
"He's fixing her car," Chris said succinctly.
"I got that much," Travis growled. "What did you do? Should I expect complaints from anyone?"
Larabee pretended to think that over for a few moments then replied, "Nope."
"Chris-" Travis began in a threatening tone. He jumped, startled when a voice came from behind his left shoulder.
"If you want a story, Judge, best not to ask the cowboy," Tanner opined, then melted away as quickly and silently as he'd appeared in pursuit of more prey to keep Nathan company.
Larabee brought a hand up to cover his smile as the judge turned his glower from Vin and back to him.
"Make an effort." Travis was running out of patience and their brief respite would be over as soon as the ladies called everyone to eat.
"Yes, sir. Well, Buck and Tessa towed Tessa's car back to his place. Nathan pretended to be a customer. Vin and I followed Buck in…"
"What did Standish do?" The judge couldn't help it. He had to admit the Southerner was good at his job, but Standish played by his own set of rules.
"Oh, he inspected the place -with JD acting as his secretary. Cited concerns for the Hazardous Waste Disposal and Mechanic Licensing Bureaus. Brought up the Better Business Bureau. Took ten years off of poor ol' Buddy's life." Larabee didn't seem unhappy about the possibility that Buddy's life may have been shortened.
"He impersonated an official-" Travis began, only to flinch as he was taken by surprise again by a voice next to his chair.
"I take umbrage at the insinuation that I would perpetrate such a fraud," Standish stated, then added hastily, "other than in an official capacity while undercover."
How the hell did Standish sneak up on him? Travis wondered with an irritated frown which he turned on the Southerner. "There was no fraud?"
Ezra smiled benevolently at the judge, as an adult to an innocent child. "Nothing illegal took place. Though it was a near thing with Buck for a few-well, never mind. There was no need for misrepresentation, Judge Travis. I never claimed to be an agent of the local regulatory bureaus. I merely mentioned the possibility that such agents should take a careful look at that business. The rest-" Standish waved his hand as if he were a magician. "If Buddy chose, based on my appearance and statements, to assume-well, you know what they say about assumptions."
Travis nodded. He'd wondered why Ezra was wearing a suit to a picnic lunch. But then, he always wondered about Ezra anyway. His choice of apparel was one of the least things he worried about, unless something showed up on his expenses claims. He quickly counted them off in his head. "Wait, you left out Josiah. What was his role in this 'show of force'?"
Just thinking of it, forced a chuckle from Larabee. "He went Old Testament on him."
"You said that before," Travis complained. "What do you mean?"
"Exodus and Malachi, I believe," Standish drawled with an impish grin
as he leaned against the tree and crossed his arms, knowing that would leave the judge wanting.
"What-?"
For the sake of harmony and a peaceful afternoon with an un-aggravated judge, Standish elucidated, sounding like an old time gospel preacher. "He got on his soapbox and he proclaimed the word of the Lord." He dropped the drama. "Our activities had gathered a crowd, some of them also obviously dissatisfied customers of Buddy's. Josiah preached to the congregation about the Lord's position on taking advantage of widows who fall under His special protection it seems. Evidently our Buddy has been a very bad boy and others held grudges as well. Josiah even got a few amens and at least one 'preach it, brother'. He was most encouraged that he hasn't lost his touch."
Travis gave a snort of amusement. "Public pressure. Surprised you didn't call for the media."
"Actually-"
"You didn't?"
"Didn't have to," Larabee said. "Vin just mentioned that we could give Mary a call and see if she wanted to cover the story-"
"His business practices couldn't withstand scrutiny in a public forum. Seeing his livelihood about to disappear before his very eyes in a blaze of bad publicity, Buddy quickly conceded that he would right his wrongs and become a reformed character," Standish added.
"You think his reformed character will last?" the judge asked skeptically.
"At least until he has repaired Tessa's car and while he thinks we are watching him. For some reason, he seemed very intimidated by Mr. Larabee." Standish smirked as Larabee bared his teeth mockingly.
The judge did not lack wisdom. "And you're willing to leave it at that?"
Green eyes widened. "So cynical, Judge Travis. Whatever do you mean?"
Getting to his feet, the judge surveyed them both with experienced eyes. "I expect you're going to wait until Mrs. Tidwell gets her car back and ensure the repairs have been done correctly-and then you're going to unleash the forces of bureaucratic hell upon that pitiable wretch."
Larabee nodded. "I expect you're right."