Jimmy, Super Kid (part twenty-seven)

The ride is a silent one. Everyone is deep in thought. I’m sure it’s not the first thing on Ricky’s mind but I can’t stop trying to figure out why take the car? I can see how it could have been used to get Ricky’s dad into the truck without a fuss, they could have offered him a bunch of money for it and then said they needed him to help them unload, or gave him a ride to pick up his wife’s car. There are all kinds of things wrong with that idea but even so, they would have left the car in the abandoned truck. Why would anyone want that old rusted out thing? There has to be a connection between the car and Ricky’s dad but I need a lot more information. I’m eager to get this police business done and start getting some answers. Number one on my list of questions is: Just what does Ricky’s dad do for a living? Is he working on some top-secret government project? But how could a government project involve a nineteen-seventy Honda N360? So did he invent something in his garage and it has nothing to do with his work? I’m starved for information as we park in front of the police station. The police have a room saved with a table for us to sit around, there is no two-way mirror but there are plenty of places to hide a camera. I smile at each likely place just in case someone is watching. I may watch too much TV.

“So you did not see him leave?” the police officer asks for the third time while re-reading his notes.

“No he was already gone,” I answer for the third time.

“So how do you know he just left?” again for the third time.

“We saw a car parking in his spot,” I’m losing my patience.

“So you don’t really know when he left,” the officer really wants to make this point, I’m not sure why.

“Traffic was backed up clear around the whole town! We talked to the guy who saw the truck and trailer!   You know, that empty trailer you found by the side of the road!” I’m pretty sure that if this goes on much longer it’s me they are going to lock up.

“But you don’t have a name for this person you presumably talked to?” the officer smiles like he’s really onto something.

“I didn’t presumably talk to him, I really talked to him. Ricky talked to him too. But how does this even matter?” I think the police officer is getting tired of talking to a kid.

He turns to look at Ricky’s dad and answers my question, “ we are trying to establish a time line here and it’s important that we not include speculations.” He turns back to me looking very satisfied. I let my forehead rest on the table and wish for the end of this meeting. My wish comes true two full hours later. We stumble to my father’s car all of us completely exhausted.

Jimmy, Super Kid (part twenty-three)

We stand and watch as he disappears down the street. Ricky looks like he might cry, “We need to call the police,” Ricky says so quietly I almost can’t hear him.

“We need to call my dad,” I respond and start walking toward the nearest pay phone, which is up the street on the corner.

Ricky follows, “why your dad?”

“The police will treat us just like the owner of the fifty-seven did, like kids.”

“They’ll want to see your father and get a full description of my father,” Ricky says, just thinking out loud.

“I’m going to ask my dad to report the car as stolen and last seen being loaded onto a racecar hauler.” Ricky looks me right in the eye and starts to say something but I add, “The police won’t do anything about a grown man missing for half an hour but they’ll get all over a stolen car – a rare, almost one of a kind, stolen car.”

“Why do you think they want my dad’s car, it’s a rusted heap.”

“I don’t think they want the car. I think they want your father.”

“Why?” Ricky can’t understand the reason behind this any more than I can.

“That’s what we need to find out. While the police and highway patrol look for the car we need to find out what your dad’s been up too!” Ricky just nods. We reach the phone and I explain the plan to my father. He’s up to speed without needing a lot of encouragement.

“I’ve got a friend in the Highway Patrol, I’ll call him first, they’ll get a helicopter into the air. That car hauler shouldn’t be that hard to spot. As soon as I’ve done everything I can here I’ll head your way,” the phone clicks and Ricky and I stand watching passing cars both of us looking into each side window just in case Ricky’s dad is tied up with rope and gagged in the back seat. We both know he’s nowhere around here but we can’t help looking.

Jimmy, Super Kid (part twenty two)

Ricky sits on the ground next to where his father’s car was parked with his back against a lamp pole. He pulls up his knees and holds his head in his hands looking down at he gray curb. I pat him on the head like he’s a lonely, stray, dog and walk around the car parked in the spot to the driver’s window.

“Hey, kid!” someone in the crowd of people walking by shouts. I look around for the shouter. A guy is making his way through the people. “What ya doing with my car!”

“Is this your Chevy,” I ask as innocent as I can. It could use a lot of work but I add, “Nice car,” because all fifty-seven Chevys are nice cars.

He softens a little as he reaches his car, “She needs a lot of work. What you need?”

“We’re looking for the car that was parked here before you,” I point toward Ricky who is still just staring at the ground.

“Didn’t see a car,” he pauses for a minute like he’s considering whether I’m worth it or not and then adds “saw the truck.”

“Truck?”

“One on those closed in car haulers like the race car drivers use. He half blocked the road for about five minutes. Cars were creeping around the truck, almost caused a couple of accidents.”

“Did they load a tiny Honda car into it?”

“By the time I got here they were pushing in the ramps and pulling down the door. As soon as there was room I nosed into the parking spot.” The pride he was feeling at capturing such a prime spot showed on this face.

“What kind of truck?” Ricky asked he was all of a sudden standing beside us completely interested.

The fifty-seven Chevy guy jumps a little at Ricky’s intrusion but answers, “Only saw the back.” Seeing Ricky’s obvious disappointment he adds, “there was a picture of the back of a car on the roll down gate.” We both must look puzzled because he adds, “Made it look like the gate was open and you could see what was riding inside the truck.”

“Some kind of race car. It had a spoiler and a number,” the fifty-seven Chevy guy looks around like he’s afraid his group is leaving without him.

“Do you remember the number?” Ricky asks.

“Got to go kids,” and he takes off to join the people he’s with.

“What color was the race car?” Ricky hollers after him.

The fifty-seven Chevy guy turns and hollers over his shoulder, “light blue!”