Page 51
“It’s brilliant,” Sam said. “It could totally work.”
Remi turned to Chad. “She’s your mother. You’re the one who has to make the final decision. And you’re the only one who knows if we have half a chance of pulling this off.”
Chad stared at the same spot on the floor for several seconds, clearly wrestling with the decision. Finally, he looked up at her, and then Sam, his dark eyes troubled. “I’m not saying yes. I need to know how do we keep my mother from getting hurt?”
“That part’s easy,” Sam said. “Kind of like the old plan. They’re more interested in the car than her.”
“Except in this case,” Remi said, “we intend to deliver.”
Chad gave a deep sigh, stood. “Let’s go take a look.”
The four of them walked down to the carriage house where the Rolls was stored.
Chad looked in the window, saw his aunt, gave a cheer
y smile, and waved, his face sobering as he turned back to them. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention any of this to my aunt. I’d rather not have her worried.”
“Not a word,” Sam said.
Chad opened the door and turned on the lights. “Anyone who’s the least bit familiar with these cars will be able to tell straightaway this isn’t the Gray Ghost the moment they get a good look at it.”
Of that, Sam had no doubt. The fact that Remi’s idea was so preposterous was what made it so appealing. Who would suspect them of trying to pass off a counterfeit car as the real thing?
“Silk purse, sow’s ear,” Oliver muttered.
“Maybe so,” Sam said. “But if we work this right, they’ll never get close enough to tell.”
“They won’t have to,” Chad replied. “The silhouette’s off. The body’s too short. Those fenders aren’t right. Straighter than the Ghost. Unless . . .” He looked around the shop, his attention lingering on some black fenders stacked against the wall. “We could switch them out for those. A little spray paint . . . Still, this Rolls doesn’t have the style of the Barker Coachworks. They’ll notice that right off. Look at how level those seat backs are.”
“Any way we can fake it?” Remi asked.
He circled the vehicle, eyeing it as he walked. After a while he stopped, opened the front passenger door, climbed in, and kneeled on the seat. Suddenly he started pulling up on the leather upholstery, loosening it from the back. “I think I can work with this.”
“Even if it means lessening the value of your car?”
“It’s not like we’re ripping up the Gray Ghost, trying to make it look like the lesser twenty–twenty-five that it is.” He patted the back of the seat he’d just pulled up. “Great for tinkering with, and learning to rebuild an engine. Other than that, it’s probably worth more as a source for spare parts.”
“How long do you need?” Sam asked.
“I daresay, at least a couple of hours.”
Oliver looked less than pleased, conflicted over the issue of Chad’s pretense to gain access to the Ghost. It didn’t help that his uncle was sitting in a jail cell, either.
Sam drew him to one side. “He may have misled you in the beginning, but it’s clear he knows his stuff.”
“Except that he lied.”
“Water under the bridge.”
Remi, overhearing them, realized that Sam’s practical approach might not be the best way to convince Oliver of anything right now. The poor man looked as though he’d aged ten years in the last few days, stress etched in every line on his face. After his uncle’s arrest and his near escape from the warehouse, he needed a softer touch. At the very least some assurance that he wasn’t going to be in the line of fire. She reached over, put her hand on his arm, smiling softly. “And he is sorry. But when it comes right down to it, he was able to get the Gray Ghost up and running to your expectations. No one complained when he helped turn it into the showpiece it is, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t that what counts in the end?”
“If he lied about that, how do I know he’s not involved in its theft?”
Sam, taking Remi’s cue, said, “You really think he’d risk his mother’s life?” He glanced toward Chad, who was pulling the fenders from the wall in order to disguise the Franken-Rolls. “I don’t know him personally, but my gut instinct is that he’s the kind of person who takes pride in his work and wants to do the right thing. Getting over this latest hurdle will bring us that much closer to whoever’s really behind the theft of the Ghost.”
Remi turned to Chad. “She’s your mother. You’re the one who has to make the final decision. And you’re the only one who knows if we have half a chance of pulling this off.”
Chad stared at the same spot on the floor for several seconds, clearly wrestling with the decision. Finally, he looked up at her, and then Sam, his dark eyes troubled. “I’m not saying yes. I need to know how do we keep my mother from getting hurt?”
“That part’s easy,” Sam said. “Kind of like the old plan. They’re more interested in the car than her.”
“Except in this case,” Remi said, “we intend to deliver.”
Chad gave a deep sigh, stood. “Let’s go take a look.”
The four of them walked down to the carriage house where the Rolls was stored.
Chad looked in the window, saw his aunt, gave a cheer
y smile, and waved, his face sobering as he turned back to them. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention any of this to my aunt. I’d rather not have her worried.”
“Not a word,” Sam said.
Chad opened the door and turned on the lights. “Anyone who’s the least bit familiar with these cars will be able to tell straightaway this isn’t the Gray Ghost the moment they get a good look at it.”
Of that, Sam had no doubt. The fact that Remi’s idea was so preposterous was what made it so appealing. Who would suspect them of trying to pass off a counterfeit car as the real thing?
“Silk purse, sow’s ear,” Oliver muttered.
“Maybe so,” Sam said. “But if we work this right, they’ll never get close enough to tell.”
“They won’t have to,” Chad replied. “The silhouette’s off. The body’s too short. Those fenders aren’t right. Straighter than the Ghost. Unless . . .” He looked around the shop, his attention lingering on some black fenders stacked against the wall. “We could switch them out for those. A little spray paint . . . Still, this Rolls doesn’t have the style of the Barker Coachworks. They’ll notice that right off. Look at how level those seat backs are.”
“Any way we can fake it?” Remi asked.
He circled the vehicle, eyeing it as he walked. After a while he stopped, opened the front passenger door, climbed in, and kneeled on the seat. Suddenly he started pulling up on the leather upholstery, loosening it from the back. “I think I can work with this.”
“Even if it means lessening the value of your car?”
“It’s not like we’re ripping up the Gray Ghost, trying to make it look like the lesser twenty–twenty-five that it is.” He patted the back of the seat he’d just pulled up. “Great for tinkering with, and learning to rebuild an engine. Other than that, it’s probably worth more as a source for spare parts.”
“How long do you need?” Sam asked.
“I daresay, at least a couple of hours.”
Oliver looked less than pleased, conflicted over the issue of Chad’s pretense to gain access to the Ghost. It didn’t help that his uncle was sitting in a jail cell, either.
Sam drew him to one side. “He may have misled you in the beginning, but it’s clear he knows his stuff.”
“Except that he lied.”
“Water under the bridge.”
Remi, overhearing them, realized that Sam’s practical approach might not be the best way to convince Oliver of anything right now. The poor man looked as though he’d aged ten years in the last few days, stress etched in every line on his face. After his uncle’s arrest and his near escape from the warehouse, he needed a softer touch. At the very least some assurance that he wasn’t going to be in the line of fire. She reached over, put her hand on his arm, smiling softly. “And he is sorry. But when it comes right down to it, he was able to get the Gray Ghost up and running to your expectations. No one complained when he helped turn it into the showpiece it is, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t that what counts in the end?”
“If he lied about that, how do I know he’s not involved in its theft?”
Sam, taking Remi’s cue, said, “You really think he’d risk his mother’s life?” He glanced toward Chad, who was pulling the fenders from the wall in order to disguise the Franken-Rolls. “I don’t know him personally, but my gut instinct is that he’s the kind of person who takes pride in his work and wants to do the right thing. Getting over this latest hurdle will bring us that much closer to whoever’s really behind the theft of the Ghost.”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 125
- Page 126
- Page 127
- Page 128
- Page 129
- Page 130
- Page 131
- Page 132
- Page 133
- Page 134
- Page 135
- Page 136
- Page 137