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The Junkyard

Chapter 26

"Sheriff? What brings you here?" Pat Malony wiped his grease-stained hands on a piece of cloth before stuffing it back into the pocket of his equally grease-stained jeans. "Let me guess. It's the transmission again, isn't it? I told you, the way you are driving..."

"It's not the transmission. In fact there is nothing wrong with the car...or my driving for that matter." Perkins climbed out of his jeep, slamming the door behind himself, and adjusted his Stetson. "I am here because I need to talk to you."

"Did I do something?" Malony asked, his voice wary.

"You tell me."

"Okay, if that's not it, what do you want to talk about."

Perkins gave a vague shrug as he leaned against the car the mechanic had been working on when he had pulled into the yard. "Something that happened some time ago."

"Mind if I keep working while we speak? I promised Misses K to have the car ready in the afternoon."

Malony picked up a wrench. It looked like a toy in his hands. He was a big man with deep red hair and green eyes. Sheriff Perkins wasn't exactly small either. But Malony towered over him like a giant. He looked like he could crack a person's skull with his bare hands without even trying very hard. In fact he once did, in a bar fight when he was young, and spent several years behind bars for it. But that was a long time ago, and as far as Perkins was concerned water under the bridge. "So, what is it you want to talk about?" Malony's head disappeared behind the open hood of the car.

"I want you to think back fifteen years, to the time when the accident happened at Raven Cross. Did anyone bring in any cars for repair around that time?"

The wrench clattered to the floor. The mechanic cleared his throat as he bend down to pick it up. "This is a repair shop, sheriff. A lot of cars come through here. What makes you think I remember one that I fixed that long ago."

Perkins pushed away from the car and walked around the front of it where he could see the other man.

"Oh, I am pretty sure you would remember that one. Not too many of that kind in town."

"What kind would that be?" Malony tried to pretend the sheriff's question hadn't startled him.

" Foreign...sportscar...red like a fire engine..."

The big man suddenly laughed. But it wasn't an amused sound.

"Nolan Flynn's Ferrari? He would let me touch any of his cars even if it broke down right outside my garage. No, he only trusts those overpriced dealership repair shops. Not that he can't afford to pay the extra money."

"So, you are sure he didn't come by to have... let's say a headlight replaced."

"Even if he would have, I don't stock parts for those fancy models."

"Yeah, I guess not." Perkins agreed. "Something else then. What happened the night of the accident at McGinty's?"

"Bloody hell, you want me to remember something that happened fifteen years ago."

"Just give it a try?"

"Hmm... Don't think I remember anything unusu... Wait I wasn't at McGinty's that night."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I spent that day sobering out in a cell courtesy of yours truly."

"And suddenly you can remember that in detail?"

"Yeah, because when the call came in you guys took off, and nobody came back to check on me until the next day. I was stuck in that bloody jail for more than 24 hours."

"Well, lucky you. I guess that makes you one of the few people who have an iron-clad alibi for that evening, doesn't it?"

Without another word of explanation sheriff Perkins got back into his jeep and started the car. He tipped his head before driving off, followed by Pat Malony's eyes.

###

The flight to Reno was a short one, barely long enough to enjoy the second cup of coffee, or tea in Keiji Ogiwara's case, the stewardess had served. They had chartered a private jet, small enough to pick them up at the airfield just outside town and save them the two hour drive into Mesquite.

Keiji was reading some Japanese news paper - god knew how he managed to get a hold of one at a place like Cloverfield - while Heero stared out of the window, lost in thought. Neither of them had spoken since the take-off. Suddenly the ringing of a phone broke into the silence. Both men simultaneously reached into their pockets.

"It's me," Heero announced and checked the number. It took him a moment to recognize it. "Sorry, I've got to take this. It's important."

The older man nodded understandingly. "Would you like some privacy?"

This was a small jet, and Heero couldn't really see how his uncle was planning on giving him privacy, aside maybe from locking himself into the bathroom. He shook his head as he pushed the answer button. "That's alright."

"Mister Yuy?" The connection wasn't particularly clear and neither was Bill Saunders' voice.

"Yes."

"I have some news about Shinichi Maede."

"You found him?" Heero asked the private detective.

"Not physically, no. But I know where he is. Turns out he left the mainland and moved to Hawaii soon after finishing his residency. "

"Hawaii?" Heero echoed. "Do you have a phone number or something?" He had hoped to talk to the doctor in person but a trip to Islands was out of question at the moment. The next best thing would be to contact Maede by phone.

"I am sure it shouldn't be hard to find. As a practicing physician his number would have to be public."

"He is still practicing."

"Yes, he opened his own private clinic right after he moved. I suppose he must have had some kind of windfall."

"What makes you say that?" Heero wanted to know.

"He went through medical school on a scholarship and even lived in subsidized housing. Maybe he won the lottery or got a large inheritance." Saunders suggested.

Or he received a large payment for 'services rendered'. The young man mused. However, aloud he said. "Yes, maybe. Let me know when you get that number. And thanks for calling."

After he hung up Heero slipped his phone back into his pocket.

Could it be J paid him to sign my death certificate? Is that also the reason why he changed my name? Because he knew Hiro Ogiwara was legally dead?

"Bad news?"

"Huh?"Heero looked up, startled.

"You look troubled." Keiji Ogiwara said. "I assume it has to do with the call you just received."

"Oh, no, it's nothing really. " He shook his head. "I hired a private detective to find Dr Maeda," he explained. "He told me the Doctor moved to Hawaii. I had hoped to speak to him. That's all."

"I see."

The flight attendant returned only a few minutes later to pick up the empty cups.

"We will be landing shortly," she informed them with a professional smile. "I will have to ask you to put on your seat belts and remain seated until we reach the airport."

Both men nodded as they buckled themselves in.

"How far is it from the airport to Kingston labs, do you know?"

"Not that far. I googled it this morning," Heero replied. "Unless we hit really bad traffic we should get there in little more than 30 minutes."

Keiji checked his watch. "Oh good. That should give us plenty of time even if the lines at the car rental turn out to be long."

"Yeah, that's what I figured." Heero nodded

A few moments later they could feel the jet starting to decent. The airport was directly below them. After one more circle the pilot lined the plane up with one of the runways and took it down.

###

"Well, should we go?" Quatre reached for the backpack between his feet and opened the car door.

"What we should do is turn around and drive home. But who asks me, right?"

The blonde gave his bodyguard a cheerful smile. "Oh come on, Trowa. The faster we go in, the faster we will be out again. It's for Heero, remember. This is important to him."

"Yeah, and that's the only reason I have agreed to this." The young man finally turned off the engine, pulled the key out and slipped it into his pocket. In the back seat, Cabal seemed to take that as a cue that they had arrived at their destination. He raised his head and yawned.

"Don't worry, this is perfectly safe. Besides," Quatre's smile widened. "I have not only one, but three very capable bodyguards at my side. Right Cabal, Alexander?"

The dog gave a single bark and the ghost made his presence known by ruffling everybody's hair.

"Still," Trowa blew a few strands of hair out of his eyes. "I prefer to be able to actually see my enemy."

"See, that's your problem right there." Quatre made sure Octavian's diary was safely tugged away in his backpack before zipping the bag up and throwing it over his shoulder. "You look at Odin Lowe as an enemy; he is not." He opened the door to the backseat and hooked the leash onto Cabal's collar. "Come on, let's go."

Heero's call had come in while they were still on their flight home. And after listening to their friend's request Quatre had, without hesitation, agreed to help. They went home just to drop off their things and exchange a few words with Wufei, who had been watching the house while they were out of town. Then they drove over to Milliardo and Treize's place to pick up Alexander and the dog. By the time they got there Heero had already spoken to their friends and explained the situation. Now they were back where everything started for Heero, hoping to get a few more answers to a lot of still unanswered questions.

The little shack at the gate to the junkyard was empty but the chain around the gate wasn't locked.

"He's got to be around here somewhere," Trowa pushed against the gate. "I can't imagine he would be too hard to find."

"Are you sure it's safe?" The hint of a smirk curved Quatre's lips as he gestured at the warning sign at the side of the shack. 'Stay out! Private property. Trespassers will be captured without warning and forced to eat my wife's meatloaf."

The other youth chuckled. "I survived your first cooking attempts, I think I will take my chances."

#

They found Pete, the junkyard owner, just around the corner helping one of his workers to secure a wrecked old minivan to a tow truck.

"Sir?" Trowa called out.

The two men turned.

"Can I help you?" Pete asked.

"I hope you do." Quatre gave the man a friendly smile as they stepped closer. As they came to a hold Cabal dropped into a 'Sit', next to the young man.

"We are friends of Duo Maxwell and Heero Yuy."

"The lad who is trying to buy that old Buick?"

"Yes, that's him." Quatre confirmed. "And that car is pretty much why we are here. You see, Heero plans on eventually rebuilding it. He is out of town right now and found someone who offered him a lot of original parts for that model. I realize you only open the yard to the public on weekends, but he asked if we could take a look at the old Buick and make a list of what needs replacing. So we were hoping..."

The town truck driver snorted. "Tell him to replace the whole damn car, it's a piece of junk."

Pete threw the man a glare then turned back toward Quatre."Yeah sure go ahead look around. Do you need me to show you the way?"

Trowa shook his head. "I think we will be okay. Heero gave us a pretty good description of where to find it."

Pete nodded, then he looked down to Cabal and raised his hand to pet the dog's head.

"That's a beautiful animal you got there. What breed is it?"

"A Borzoi," Quatre explained. "He belongs to another friend. We are just taking him out for a walk."

"Borzoi, huh? Not by any chance a kind of guard dog, is it?"

"No, they are hunting dogs I think."

"Too bad. Nothing to hunt here I am afraid, except for the occasional sticky finger."

"You looking for a guard dog?" Trowa asked.

"Yeah, one or two; something I can leave here overnight. There always seem to be some people who think just because it's called a junkyard the stuff here is free for the taking."

"How about adopting something like a retired police dog?" The young man suggested. "They are already well trained to protect things. "

"Yeah, we tried that. He now stays at home with us, protecting his TV chair that used to be mine." Pete replied. But somehow he didn't sound too upset about it. "We also got two Rottweiler puppies and paid to have them specially trained. Didn't work out either. My daughter took them eventually. I suppose nobody will ever dare braking into her house. I don't know what it is, but something seems to spook the dogs around here. I am surprised he," the junkyard owner gave Cabal another pat on the head. "Is so calm."

The tow truck driver who was still securing the van, gave another snort. "Not spook, ghost," he snickered. "Or at least that's some of the guys here would say."

"Oh, don't even start, Frank." Pete exclaimed, an irritated edge in his voice. "Don't listen to him, he just thinks he is being funny."

"What? I am just repeating what others say."

"Now get moving, will you? I am not paying you to stand around spouting nonsense."

"I didn't say I actually believe in that stuff, did I?" Frank, the tow truck driver grumbled. He hooked up the last two chains, dusted off his pants and walked to the cab of his truck. But before he even slipped behind the steering wheel the chains fell back to the ground with a rattle.

"For god sake, are you even paying any attention to what you are doing?" Now Pete sounded positively angry. "You forgot to lock the chains."

"No I didn't." The other man insisted. "I have been towing cars for twenty years you know. I know what I am doing."

Quatre just smiled softly as they walked away from the squabble. "There will always be ignorance, Alexander. You shouldn't take it personally."

##

The Buick stood where it did that night when they first visited the junkyard.

In spite of all the bravado he had put on, Quatre felt a wave of unease as he remembered the first vision Odin Lowe had sent him back then. It wasn't something he ever wanted to experience again. Instinctively the young man slowed his steps. Beside him Trowa gave him a concerned look

"Are you alright?"

He forced himself to smile. "Yes, of course." Feeling Alexander's calm presence by his side was somewhat reassuring.

Suddenly Cabal froze. The hair in the back of his neck bristled, but only for a moment then he calmed down again. He let out a little whimper and one of his hind legs twitched like it did when someone was scratching that particularly sensitive spot behind his ears.

"He is here," Quatre announced for Trowa's benefit, since the bodyguard was the only one who wasn't able to actually sense the ghost's presence.

Trowa impulsively moved toward the blond. He hated this feeling of being helpless and 'blind'. But he trusted Alexander to protect Quatre if he ever was in any real danger.

"Keep your eyes open, will you?" Quatre gave a tiny smirk. "The last thing I need it for someone to walk in while I am talking to 'myself'."

He could feel the ghost shift away from the dog and closer toward him.

"Mister Lowe? I am sure you remember us. I was hoping you might be able to answer some more questions. It's about the accident... Not the one you were in, but the one that happened in Nevada. The one that killed Heero Yuy's parents. He is in Cloverfield as we speak trying to find out how it happened and who was involved... "

For a moment he could almost sense something akin to surprise from the ghost, and Quatre nodded.

"Yes, thanks to your help he was able to remember a few things about his parents and the way they died. But he has run into a few problems. For one, everybody there, including his father's family, seems under the impression that he had died. Can you tell me anything about that? "And also about the car you saw right after the accident. Heero is convinced it is the same vehicle he remembers causing his father to crash. You were going to tell the police about what happened, weren't you? But you never got around to it."

TBC

Author's Note: