Hot Wheels (5 page)

Moments later, they were in Pete's car. Jupiter looked back as Pete drove away. Torres and the gunman stood in front of the garage, staring after the Fiero. They ran back inside.

“Your karate sensei won’t like it,” Jupiter said. “They got up too soon. They’ll be after us in the Buick.”

“I’ve barely got a black belt,” Pete protested as he gunned the Fiero toward the freeway. “What was that about you having a big idea back in there?”

“It’s more than an idea now,” Jupiter replied. “Did you see that Torres was being driven by that guy Max?”

“Sure I did. So what?”

Pete pulled onto the freeway and they relaxed. No one could catch up with them in time to see where they exited.

“My idea was that the orange Cadillac was a stolen car!” Jupiter said. “It was delivered to Torres, who drove it to the garage. That would mean he had to have someone drive him back to the bodega. And that’s just what Max was doing!”

“Then where’s the Caddy now?”

“The answer is that it’s still in there somewhere,” Jupiter said.

“That’s crazy. We saw all three floors. There weren’t any big doors going out anywhere.”

“Torres was in there, and we didn’t see him.”

“He can hide in an office. A Caddy can’t.”

“Maybe, but I’m convinced the Caddy was stolen, and that it’s still in the garage somewhere. The question is where?”

Both guys thought about the vanishing Cadillac as Pete got off at the exit nearest the salvage yard.

As soon as they drove into the yard, Aunt Mathilda came out of the office.

“The judge has finally set Ty’s bail. You can take me to the courthouse.”

Jupiter scrambled into the small backseat of the Fiero to give Aunt Mathilda the front. Pete drove more slowly, and it was past four p.m. by the time they reached the courthouse. Inside the courthouse lobby, Aunt Mathilda introduced the guys to a tall, serious-faced man who was waiting there.

“This is my lawyer, Steve Gilbar. Jupiter’s my nephew, Steve. This is his friend, Pete Crenshaw. They’re trying to clear Ty.”

Steve Gilbar shook hands with Jupe and Pete. “We’ll need all the help we can get on this. The police are convinced Ty is part of a ring of car thieves that have been operating up and down the coast, between Santa Monica and Ventura. They’ve persuaded the judge to set an unusually high bail.” He turned to Aunt Mathilda. “You brought the papers?” She nodded. “What is the bail, Steve?”

“Seventy-five thousand dollars. Outrageous, I call it, but the prosecutor made a strong case for Ty’s importance. They think there’s a clever chop-shop ring operating, and Ty is their first arrest.”

“A chop-shop!” exclaimed Jupe.

“What’s in heaven’s name is a chop-shop?” asked Aunt Mathilda.

“Instead of selling the stolen cars, the thieves take them apart and sell all the parts that aren’t marked with serial numbers,” explained Jupiter.

“They clean the parts up, wrap them, and put them in boxes to look like new,” added Pete. “Then they sell them to dealers who operate parts stores.”

“Don’t the stores know they must be stolen?” Aunt Mathilda asked.

“A lot of them do,” Steve Gilbar said, “but the prices are so good, they don’t ask questions.”

“The few parts that have serial numbers,” Pete said, “like the engine blocks, the crooks ship out of the States to sell in foreign countries.”

“They make more money by selling the parts than by selling whole cars,” added Jupe.

Aunt Mathilda shook her head. “It sounds like a hard thing to stop. I mean, once you take a car apart, it can’t be traced.”

“You’re right,” Steve Gilbar said. “That’s why the police think Ty is so important. The best way to stop the operation is to catch the thieves when they steal the cars.” He looked at his watch. “It’s time, Mathilda. Do you have the bankbooks and deeds?”

She nodded.

“You understand that if Ty runs away, you lose your bail money?”

“I understand, Steve.”

“Then let’s go. Jupiter and Pete, wait here.”

Alone in the courthouse lobby, Jupiter turned to Pete. The leader of the trio beamed.

“A chop-shop ring!” he said excitedly. “Stolen cars all up and down the coast. It has to be El Tiburon and the Piranhas using the band gigs as a cover.”

“We don’t have any proof, Jupe,” Pete said. “I mean, all we have is the name Tiburon, and Joe Torres lying and going to that garage. It’s mostly guessing.”

“We’ve also got a stolen car someone gave Ty to drive, Torres’s connection to Tiburon at the car wash, and a disappearing Cadillac.”

“I don’t know, Jupe.”

“And,” Jupiter said, “Now we have Ty!”

Aunt Mathilda, Steve Gilbar and Ty were coming down the wide courthouse corridor to the lobby. Ty looked tired and pale, but he was smiling and striding along with a bounce in his western boots and ragged jeans.

“Are you okay, Ty?” Pete said.

“Glad to be untied, right, guys?” Ty replied, and laughed at his own joke. “How’s the Corvair?”

“I haven’t had much time to work on it.”

“We’ve been too busy investigating the stolen-car ring,” Jupiter explained.

“Ring?” Ty said. “You mean there’s a gang of car thieves operating around here?”

Steve Gilbar nodded. “The police think so.”

“So that’s why they didn’t want to set bail,” Ty said. “That’s big-time stuff to play with, guys. What have you found out so far?”

“You can talk about that in a minute,” Gilbar said. “Now, you’ll be arraigned next week, Ty. At that time you’ll either be charged or the charges will be dropped. Meanwhile, don’t leave the state or even the county. Understood?”

Both Ty and Aunt Mathilda nodded.

“See you in three days then.”

After Gilbar had gone, the others went out to Pete’s Fiero. With Aunt Mathilda in the front seat, it was a very tight fit in the back for Jupiter and Ty.

“We’d have another car,” Jupiter said, “if Pete would get around to helping me look for one.”

Ty smiled. “I’ll help you, Jupe. Now tell me what you’ve dug up so far, and what we can do next to prove I’m maybe a dummy but not a crook.”

Together, Jupiter and Pete told Ty everything they’d found out and guessed at. He listened carefully, but his eyes seemed to be on the rearview mirror above Pete’s head.

“So we think El Tiburon and the Piranhas are using gigs to cover their car stealing,” Jupiter finished. He took a glossy photograph from his pocket. “Here’s a photo of Tiburon I swiped from outside The Shack. Is that the guy who gave you the Mercedes to drive down to Rocky Beach?”

Ty studied the photo. “I think so, Jupe, but I’m not sure, you know? I’d had a few beers that night. It was dark and smoky, and we were all watching the band. I didn’t look at him all that close, you know? But it sure looks a lot like him.”

“Wasn’t he playing in the band?”

“No.”

“What club were you in?” Jupiter asked.

“Something ‘Blue.’ Yeah. The Blue Lights!”

“Not The Deuces?” Jupiter asked.

“Tiburon’d be crazy to hire a guy where they were playing,” Pete said.

“I’d know better if I could see him and hear him talk,” Ty said, staring at the photo.

“That we can arrange,” Jupiter said. “We’ll meet at HQ tonight and talk over our plans.”

Ty continued to watch the rearview mirror above Pete. “Someone’s tailing us, guys. Ever since we left the courthouse. Probably the cops keeping me under surveillance, but it could be the car thieves.”

Three cars were behind them. A red Nissan and a Porsche, and between them a black American sedan.

“Is it a Buick?” Jupiter asked quickly.

“Not sure,” Ty said. “But it looks like a GM car of some sort.”

Pete and Jupiter told him about the black Buick of Max the gunman. Ty watched the mirror.

“Could be, but it could be detectives too.”

“What do we do?” Pete asked.

“We watch them,” Ty said.

They reached the house and salvage yard. Ty and Aunt Mathilda went into the house. Pete and Jupe crossed to the yard. Pete stood behind the gatepost and watched the black car pass. It wasn’t a Buick.

“It’s an Oldsmobile,” Pete said. “And it just turned at the next corner.”

“Let’s reconnoiter,” Jupiter said.

They ran across the salvage yard and climbed onto some packing crates so they could see over the high board fence. The black car was parked practically in front of them.

As they peeked over the fence, the car moved off.

“You think they saw us?”

Jupiter nodded. “I think so.”

They returned to HQ and called Ty to report.

“Okay,” Ty said. “It’s probably the cops. Let’s wait until morning to make our next move.”

Ty settled into the upstairs guest room. Pete worked on the Corvair until dark. Jupiter tinkered with some mini walkie-talkies in his workshop.

They saw the black car twice. Once driving slowly past the yard. Once hidden again behind the salvage yard fence.

Ty stood at the window of HQ, as if he could see through the yard fence to the street. It was next morning, and he was worried about the black car.

“It’s out there,” he said. “I can feel it.”

“Who?” Pete said. “The police or the crooks?”

“It could be either,” Jupiter said at his desk.

“Jupe’s right,” Ty agreed. “The question is, who are they tailing? You — probably means the guys you suspect. Me — probably means the police.”

Jupiter nodded. “Torres and Tiburon wouldn’t have known when or even if you were going to get out. And I’d think they’d want to stay far away from you in case you could recognize Tiburon.”

“Let’s split up and see which car they tail,” Pete suggested.

Jupiter nodded. “I wanted to do some research, and someone should watch the Freeway Garage to see if Tiburon or the Piranhas show up. Bob’s probably working again today. So Pete can watch the garage while Ty and I take a pickup and do my research.”

“And we can buy you a car,” Ty said.

Jupiter nodded eagerly. “If they follow you, Pete, don’t go near the garage until you lose them.”

They went to Uncle Titus for permission to use one of the salvage-yard pickups. Ty and Jupe got into the truck, and Pete got into his battered Fiero. Jupe slumped down so only Ty could be seen in the truck. Ty and Pete drove out of the salvage yard together, but turned in opposite directions. If the black car was watching, it would have to choose which one it wanted to tail.

Ty turned at the first corner. He speeded up around the next corner, made a U-turn, and drove back the same way he had come.

The black Oldsmobile was driving straight at them! It quickly parked to pretend it wasn’t tailing the truck, but Ty wasn’t fooled.

“So they’re watching me,” Ty said. “That means it’s the cops. They must have been hidden near the salvage yard. Sit up, Jupe, and we’ll go get you a car. Let them figure out why a car thief is buying used wheels!”

Ty drove from dealer to dealer, from owner-sales lot to owner-sales lot. He spurned every car in Jupe’s price range — which wasn’t very many. Then, at a small owners-lot near the harbor, Ty sported a ten-year-old Honda Civic.

The owner of the little two-door hatchback needed money and was asking exactly five hundred dollars. He said the car had a rebuilt engine with less than twenty thousand miles on it. Ty examined the engine, took the car out for a drive with Jupiter, and pronounced that it did indeed have a new rebuilt engine and was a good buy.

Jupiter made the deal. The car would be ready to be picked up the next day after the paperwork and some small repairs Ty wanted were completed. The owner promised to replace a missing window crank and a burned-out overhead light. Jupiter was so excited he could barely talk. He touched the little blue and white car with awe.

“It’s all mine. Can’t I drive it off now?”

Ty laughed. “Better let the owner make those repairs. We can take the truck to your research. Where do we go, Jupe?”

Jupiter grinned. “Police headquarters.”

*

Pete took back streets down to the Freeway Garage. He saw no sign of the black Oldsmobile. To be safe, he parked behind a lumberyard two blocks away. He walked to the garage and settled behind a fence surrounding the vacant lot across the street.

Hours passed with cars going in for service or to be painted or just to park. They stopped outside the garage and gave a couple of honks until the doors opened. The garage attendant on duty at the door was Max, Torres’s guntoting companion of the day before. Pete tried to decide if some of the cars were stolen. Some of the drivers who came out right away, as if they had just parked inside, didn’t look much like businessmen. But Pete had no real reason to think the cars they had driven in were stolen.

Until he saw a gray BMW sedan.

The driver looked carefully up and down the street before honking: one long, two short, a long, and a short. The doors opened and he drove the BMW in.

The driver was Joe Torres.

Pete left his post and ran back to his Fiero. He drove closer to the garage and parked where he could watch the door.

Ten minutes later the black Buick appeared with two men in it. They drove past Pete without seeing him. The man in the passenger seat was Torres.

Pete pulled out and went after the Buick.

*

Ty laughed as he parked in the lot of Rocky Beach’s police headquarters. “The cops in the Olds’re gonna be real confused.”

“Look!” Jupiter said.

The black Oldsmobile cruised past, hesitating as if its occupants were staring in disbelief.

“What are we doing here anyway?” Ty wanted to know as they walked into police headquarters.

“If Tiburon and the Piranhas are stealing cars when they go out of town on their gigs, there should be a lot of reports of stolen cars where they play.”

“That’d figure,” Ty said, nodding. “How do we get the reports?”

Jupiter grinned. “Watch me.”

He asked for Sergeant Cota and was directed along a busy corridor to the police computer room. A short, dark-haired officer sat at the computer console.

“Jupiter! Come on in.”

Sergeant Cota and Jupiter were fellow computer buffs. Jupe often dropped in at the station to talk computers with him.

After admiring the sergeant’s new laser printer, Jupe said, “This is my cousin Ty. He’s out from the East helping us on a case.”

Sergeant Cota looked at Ty for a moment, then smiled. “Nice to meet you. So, what can I do for you, Jupe?”

“I’m doing a car-theft report,” Jupiter told him. “I need a readout on all stolen cars reported from Santa Monica up to Ventura in the last month.”

“Sure, no problem.”

The sergeant punched various keys on the computer to relay his commands, and after a short wait, his printer began spewing out pages. It printed for nearly three minutes!

“Is that a lot of stolen cars?” Ty asked.

Sergeant Cota nodded. “We think there’s a new ring operating, but there’s always a lot of car thefts. We’re an automobile country.” He gave Jupiter the printout.

“Thanks, Sergeant.”

“No sweat, Jupiter.”

Outside, they hurried to the pickup. There was no sign of the black Olds, but as they drove off it appeared far behind them.

“They don’t know we spotted them,” Ty said.

“We’ll keep it that way. Let them tail us until we have to lose them.”

He headed for the salvage yard.

*

The black Buick did not take Joe Torres back to the bodega, but to a seedy, dilapidated building on the edge of the main downtown shopping area. It left Torres in front of the building and drove on.

Pete parked on the street and followed Torres into the run-down building. There was no elevator inside. Only a feeble light filtered in through the dusty sky-light over the stairwell. Torres went up to the third floor. Rows of scarred half-glass doors lined the uncarpeted hallways. Torres opened the last door on the right and went in.

The lettering on the door read:

Jake Hatch,

Talent & Bookings.

Pete hurried back down the stairs to his Fiero and drove off toward the salvage yard. He watched for the black Olds but saw no sign of it.

“Jupe!” he shouted as he leaped out of the Fiero and ran to the workshop. Inside, Jupiter and Ty were studying a long computer printout. “Torres came to the garage with another car! I tailed him — ”

Jupiter whirled around. “Pete! I’ve got a car! A real little beaut, right, Ty? It’s got a new engine, and — ”

“Great, Jupe, but listen — ”

“ — it’s only a Honda Civic. I’d hoped to get a bigger car, but it gives us three cars, so — ”

“Torres went to Jake Hatch’s office!”

“ — white with a big blue stripe, and I get it tomorrow… ” Jupiter stopped. “What? Torres went where?”

“Jake Hatch’s office!”

Ty said, “Hatch — is that the agent guy?”

The others nodded.

“Now you’re making some connections,” Ty said.

“So what do we do?” Pete said. “Tail Hatch?”

“Perhaps later,” Jupiter said. “First we’ve got to check this computer printout against all the places Tiburon and the Piranhas played this month.”

“How are we going to do that?” Pete asked.

“That’s easy,” Bob’s voice said behind them.

They’d been so busy talking, they hadn’t even heard Bob come into the workshop.“Tell us how it’s so easy,” Pete demanded.

“We sneak into Jake Hatch’s office and check his band schedule!” Bob grinned.

“If he catches us,” Jupiter warned, “our chances of helping Ty are just about zero.”

“I’ll call Gracie and find out where he’ll be tonight. He always watches his bands, just like Sax. We’ll know when to show up and how much time we have. I’ll take Gracie out for a pizza or something and leave the door unlocked so you and Pete don’t even have to bust in.”

Pete reddened. “Sorry, guys. I’m taking Kelly to a movie tonight.”

“I’ll go with Jupe,” Ty said.

“What about the police?”

“Police?” Bob said.

Jupiter explained about the black Oldsmobile.

“We’ll have to shake them,” Ty said. “They’ll know we’re on to them. But I guess this is the time to do it.”

Bob went into HQ to call Grace Salieri.

*

Jupiter and Ty sat in the pickup across from the shabby building on the edge of downtown. Bob had made his date with Grace Salieri. Ty and Jupiter had left the black Olds looking for them in the back streets near the harbor. Jake Hatch was safely up the coast in Port Huerieme observing a punk band, and would not be back before ten p.m. Jupiter and Ty could make their move as soon as Bob emerged.

“There he is,” Jupiter said.

Bob came out with Grace Salieri on his arm. She was laughing as if it were a good joke that she was going out with someone Bob’s age. But she held his arm with both hands and seemed to be enjoying herself. As soon as they had disappeared toward the center of town, Ty and Jupiter crossed the street and entered the building. Most of the windows were dark, but lights were on in the stairwell and corridors.

On the third floor they found Hatch’s office dark, the Yale lock open. The band charts for the month were on the wall. Jupiter called out the dates and locations of Tiburon and the Piranhas’ gigs. Ty checked them against the computer printout of car thefts.

Jupiter stopped. Ty looked up. “Cars were stolen almost every place and day Tiburon and the Piranhas played the whole month. I’m convinced, Jupiter.”

“But will the police be?” Ty shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Neither do I. I think we’ll have to catch them red-handed. I just want to try one more thing. I’m going to call out some random gigs of Hatch’s other bands. See if cars were stolen at those times and places, too.”

Jupiter called out the gigs, Ty checked, and the results were the same — cars had been stolen almost every place any of Jake Hatch’s bands appeared.

“Hatch is involved. Maybe behind the whole operation,” Ty said. “No doubt now.”

“But we still can’t prove it.”

“Okay, what next?”

Jupiter looked back at the charts of the bands. “The Piranhas are playing tonight at the Lemon Tree Lounge. It’s in Topanga Canyon, near Malibu. We’ll go up there. Maybe we’ll be able to wrap up the case tonight.”