Christine - Stephen King [66]
'I don't know,' I said. 'Did he buy the replacement parts from you?'
'No,' Darnell said, sounding aggravated. 'I don't know where he gets them. That grille - there isn't a spot of rust on it. He must have ordered it from somewhere. Custom Chrysler in New Jersey or someplace like that, But where's the other half? Up his ass? I never even heard of a grille that came in two pieces.'
'I don't know. Honest.'
He jammed the cigar out, 'Don't tell me you're not curious, though. I saw the way you was lookin at that car.' I shrugged. 'Arnie doesn't talk about it much,' I said.
'No, I bet he doesn't. He's a close-mouthed sonofabitch. He's a fighter, though. That Repperton pushed the wrong button when he started in on Cunningham. If he works out okay this fall, I might find a steady job for him this winter. Jimmy Sykes is a good boy, but he ain't much in the brains department.' His eyes measured me. 'Think he's a pretty good worker, Dennis?'
'He's okay.'
'I got lots of irons in the fire,' he said. 'Lot of irons. I rent out flatbeds to guys that need to haul their stockers up to Philadelphia City. I haul away the junkets after races. I can always use help. Good, trustworthy help.'
I began to have a horrid suspicion that I was being asked to dance. I got up hurriedly, almost knocking over the straight chair. 'I really ought to get going,' I said. 'And Mr Darnell I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention to Arnie that I was here. He's.. a little touchy about the car. To tell you the truth, his father was curious about how he was coming along.'
'Took a little shit on the home front, did he?' Darnell's right eye closed shrewdly in something that was not quite a wink, 'Folks ate a few pounds of Ex-Lax and then stood over him with their legs spread, did they?'
'Yeah, well, you know.'
'You bet I know.' He was up in one smooth motion and clapped me on the back hard enough to stagger me on my feet. Wheezy respiration and cough or not, he was strong.
'Wouldn't mention it,' he said, walking me toward the door. His hand was still on my shoulder, and that also made me feet nervous - and a little disgusted.
'I tell you something else that bothers me,' he said. 'I must see a hundred thousand cars a year in this place well, not that many, but you know what I mean - and I got an eye for em. You know, I could swear I've seen that one before. When it wasn't such a dog. Where did he get it?'
'From a man named Roland LeBay,' I said, thinking of LeBay's brother telling me that LeBay did all the maintenance himself at some do-it-yourself garage. 'He's dead now.'
Darnell stopped cold. 'LeBay? Rollie LeBay?'
'Yes, that's right.'
'Army? Retired?'
'Yes.'
'Holy Christ, sure! He brought it in Here just as regular as clockwork for six maybe eight years, then he stopped coming. A long time ago. What a bastard that man was. If you poured boiling water down that whoremaster's throat, he would have peed ice cubes. He couldn't get along with a living soul.' He gripped my shoulder harder. 'Does your friend Cunningham know LeBay's wife committed suicide in that car?'
'What?' I said, acting surprised - I didn't want him to know I'd been interested enough to talk to LeBay's brother after the funeral. I was afraid Darnell might repeat the information to Arnie - complete with his source.
Darnell told me the whole story. First the daughter, then the mother.
'No,' I said when he was done. 'I'm pretty sure Arnie doesn't know that. Are you going to tell him?' The eyes, appraising again. 'Are you?'
'No,' I said. 'I don't see any reason to.
'Then neither do I.' He opened the door, and the greasy air of the garage smelled almost sweet after the cigar smoke in the office. 'That sonofabitch LeBay, I'll be damned. I hope he's doing right-face-left-face and to-the-rear-march down in hell.' His mouth turned down viciously for just a moment, and then he glanced over at where Christine sat in stall twenty with her