Conversation was at a minimum during the 20 minute drive to the car dealership. It would have been difficult to talk over the "Supertramp's Greatest Hits" CD Patrick Jane was playing at a higher than moderate level. Grace Van Pelt spent the trip basking in a tiny glow of self-satisfaction from the look Jane had given her when she said, "Nice car," when he opened the passenger door for her. She thought that maybe, just maybe she had got to him a bit and that was why he was playing the music so loud as well. She threw him a sideways glance and quickly looked back out the window when she saw that he was looking at her and smiling. Probably reading her thoughts though he claimed he couldn't really do that. Maybe the music was loud enough to block her thoughts. Probably not.
"Anderson Classic Motors," announced Jane as he pulled into the parking lot. The dealership had been a fixture on 25th street since 1957 and specialized in used sports cars vintage and new. The two story showroom's windows were floor to ceiling and the cars inside and out glittered in the bright light. A matching pair of 1967 Mustang convertibles were parked at a jaunty angle on the slanted pavement in front of the showroom. Inside was a 2009 Audi TT, a 1994 Mazda RX7, a 2009 Ferrari 599 and a 1975 Ford Gran Torino that looked very like the one used by Starsky and Hutch.
A small pack of salesmen perked up with predatory interest when the potential customers got out of their car. Jane waved at them as he and Van Pelt walked toward the showroom's double glass doors. "Let's not start off as cops," he suggested to her.
The automatic doors slid silently open. "Fine," Grace said in a low voice, "but I'm not going to be your fiancé this time." Before Patrick could reply Grace's demeanor and voice changed dramatically from her usual prim professionalism and she cried out in whining dismay, "Daddy, you said they'd have a Miata."
Jane's estimation of Van Pelt rose by several points. "I'm sure they have a Miata, sweetheart. We haven't seen all of the cars yet," he told her.
An immaculately made up and dressed receptionist greeted them with a bright white smile as artificial as the "New Car Smell" fragrance that filled the showroom. "Welcome to Anderson Classic Motors. My name is Sylvia."
Jane smiled back at her. "Hi Sylvia, my name is Patrick and this is Grace."
Grace retained her petulant attitude and said nothing. This did not faze the receptionist in the least. "So you're looking for a Miata?" Sylvia said.
"A red Miata," corrected Grace.
"Baby knows what baby wants," said Patrick, smiling at Grace as an indulgent father.
"I see that," said Sylvia. "I'm sure we at Anderson Classic Motors can make her happy."
"I'm sure you'll try," he said.
Sylvia consulted her clipboard. "Let's see which of our customer consultants is next in line…" The customer consultants had entered through a side door and were clustered in the back of the showroom. Grace felt their hungry eyes on her. She was being salivated at like a stripper in a singles bar only with brighter lighting.
A young man with dark hair stepped away from the other salesmen and approached the new customers. "I believe I am the lucky man," he said extending his hand to Van Pelt. "Hi. My name is Charles."
"Charles," the receptionist agreed. "Charles, this is Patrick and…"
Van Pelt felt compelled to give Charles her hand. He didn't shake it, just held it and smiled.
"I want a Miata," Van Pelt said, pulling back her hand.
Charles was smooth, efficient and determined to win over the sale and probably get a date out of it too. "We've got 6 Miatas on the lot. You'd look great in one of the red ones."
The kid's not bad, thought Patrick.
"I'll leave you in Charles' capable hands," Sylvia smiled and returned to her desk. Charles escorted the father and daughter out to see the Miatas.
* * * *
Van Pelt did a magnificent job maintaining her jaded, saturnine attitude as Charles did his best to: A, Sell her a car, and B, Pick her up. Jane did… nothing. Grace wondered when he was going to do his thing. Normally he would have started by now. She was sure he was dragging it out just to annoy her. In fact, Jane was enjoying her performance too much to disrupt it. The trio looked at three different cars. Spurred by Jane's inaction, Grace finally let on that she liked the fourth. "Yeah, alright. This one," she said. "Can I drive it?"
"Wonderful choice," beamed Charles. "Low mileage, beautiful body condition and it's an automatic transmission." He managed to make it sound dirty.
"I can drive stick," Grace said defensively.
"I'll bet," said Charles, smiling even wider until he caught the glare from Grace's "father." Charles cleared his throat. "I'll get the keys," he said quickly. "Oh, I'll need your license too, please."
Van Pelt reached into her purse and took out her wallet. She gave him her driver's license, careful not to flash her badge as she did so. She didn't like the way he didn't bother to hide looking at her birthdate and other personal info, and then smiled as he looked her up and down as if he were judging whether she had fudged a bit about her height and weight.
"I'll be right back," he said and then walked briskly back to the showroom.
"What are you doing?" Van Pelt asked Jane as soon as Charles was out of earshot.
Jane was leaning into the Miata, examining the instrument panel. "This thing has awfully low mileage for an '03." He straightened and walked around to the front of the car where he popped the hood and stuck his head inside. "It's in excellent condition though." his voice muffled "The VIN numbers on the windows match the one in here and I don't think they've tampered with the odometer. Probably was one of those 'distract the wife with a cute car so she won't mind the affair so much' kind of things." He closed the hood and smiled at Van Pelt. "It would be a good buy if the price comes down."
"We're not here to really buy a car."
"No," he said, squatting to scrutinize the right front tire. "We're here to surveil." Jane stood and continued his inspection of the vehicle, stopping to lick his finger and try to rub out a smudge on the passenger door. "I wouldn't go out with Charles if I were you. A man with three cats usually has some intimacy issues with his mother that you don't want to get involved with."
"I wasn't planning on it," Grace said. "Are we going to ask Charles about his boss?"
"Not directly, no." Patrick had moved to the back of the car. "This tire is a Michelin and the rest are all Goodyear and this fender's been replaced. Maybe she did mind the affair."
"So the car's been in a little accident."
"Don't ask him right out, but see if Charles tells you about it," Patrick said. "That will tell us a lot about how this business is run."
Jane had been "doing his thing" all along. "Right," she said, feeling slightly silly.
Brisk footsteps on tarmac and jingling keys indicated Charles' return. "Ready to take her for a spin?" he grinned.
Grace held her hand out for the keys.
"Sorry," said Charles, pulling them just out of her reach. "Regulations state that the customer consultant has to drive the car off the lot." Charles got into the driver's seat of the Miata.
"There's three of us and two seats," Grace protested.
"I'll take you out first, let you drive, and then come back for your Dad's turn," Charles told her. He patted the passenger seat invitingly.
Grace looked at Patrick. He shrugged.
"Regulations," said Charles.
"Well, we can't go against regulations." said Patrick. "You go, honey. I'll just wait inside." He opened the door for Van Pelt to get into the car. Grace knew instantly what he was up to and her mind spun frantically looking for a way out of it.
"She's a little skittish. Just wrecked her little Beamer last week," Patrick said to Charles. "We're going with something less expensive until her driving improves."
"Don't worry, Miss," Charles told her. "I'm a very good teacher."
"See sweetie? Nothing to worry about," Jane smiled pleasantly. The two men were looking at her expectantly. Grace felt trapped and manipulated but had no choice but to get into the car. Patrick closed the door for her and stepped out of the way. "Have a nice time," he said.
"Thanks, Dad," said Van Pelt giving Jane her best glare. He smiled back at her and waved. The car wasn't completely out of the parking space before Jane was striding back into the showroom.