“The Dealer.”
“Yeah, the dealer. Where's he located?”
“He's at the end row house. He's got a garage, dude. Can you dig it? A garage.” Since I'd just spent the winter scraping ice off my windshield, I could appreciate Mooner's garage excitement. I thought a garage was a pretty wondrous thing, too.
The end row house was about a quarter-mile away so we drove.
“Do you think he'll be home?” I asked Mooner when we got to the end of the block.
“The Dealer's always home. He's gotta be there to deal.”
I rang the bell, and Dougie Kruper opened the door. I went to school with Dougie but hadn't seen him in years. In fact, I'd heard a rumor that he'd moved to Arkansas and died.
“Jeez, Dougie,” I said, “I thought you were dead.”
“Naw, I just wished I was dead. My dad got transferred to Arkansas, so I went with them, but I'm telling you, Arkansas was no place for me. No action, you know what I mean? And if you want to go to the ocean it takes days.”
“Are you the dealer?”
“Yessiree. I'm the Dealer. I'm the man. You want something. I got it. We make a deal.”
“Bad news, Dougie. The wind machine was in an accident.”
“Girl, the wind machine is an accident. Seemed like a good idea at the time, but I can't unload it on anyone. Soon as you brought it back I was gonna push it off a bridge. Unless, of course, you want to buy it.”
“It doesn't actually suit my purposes. It's too memorable. I need a car that disappears.”
“A stealth car. The Dealer might have such a vehicle,” Dougie said. “Come around back, and we'll take a look-see.”
Around back was wall-to-wall cars. There were cars on the road, and cars in his yard, and a car in his garage.
Dougie led me to a black Ford Escort. “Now this here is a genuine disappearing car.”
“How old is it?”
“I don't exactly know, but it's got a few miles on it.”
“Isn't the year on the title?”
“This particular car doesn't have a title.”
Hmm.
“If you need a car with a title, that would adversely effect the price,” Dougie said.
“How adversely?”
“I'm sure we can come to terms. After all, I'm the Dealer.”
Dougie Kruper was the big geek of my graduating class. He didn't date, and he didn't do sports, and he didn't eat like a human being. His greatest accomplishment in high school was being able to suck Jell-O into his nose through a straw.
Mooner was walking around laying his hands on the cars, divining karma. “This is it,” he said, standing by a small khaki-colored jeep. “This car has protective qualities.”
“You mean like a guardian angel?”
“I mean, like, it has seat belts.”
“Does this car come with a title?” I asked Dougie. “Does it run?”