Easy Innocence

Chapter 24

DEREK JANOWITZ only worked half a day on Saturdays, but it was the most profitable day of the week. Not because he was a mechanic.

He'd been at Horner's gas station almost a year. He'd spend a few hours a day tinkering with cars, mostly nice ones, this being the North Shore and all. He'd adjust brakes, replace batteries, change the oil. Sometimes Horner would ask his opinion on a tricky fuel injector or transmission problem. The old man got stumped a lot these days. Everything was digital, he'd grouse. Too complicated. What happened to the time when all you needed to know were carburetors, distributors, and spark plugs?

The lucrative part of Derek's job came from his other customers. He wasn't kidding when he told Lauren he knew what people wanted and how far they would go to get it. Derek was a provider. He gave people what they wanted when they wanted it. In fact, he thought of himself as a self-made dude. Like Donald Trump. Or the guy who started that airline. His reputation was growing. Pretty soon he'd be able to ditch this job and tell Horner where to go. Maybe Lauren, too. The bitch never gave him any credit.

He wheeled a white Acura onto the lift. A note from Horner said it needed new pads and a wheel alignment. The car looked vaguely familiar. Probably belonged to some spoiled brat in Northbrook or Glencoe who didn't know shit about car maintenance, who just fed it gas and expected it to run. He shook his head. If it weren't for him, a lot of people would be up the creek.

He was raising the lift when a silver Lexus turned into the station. The driver didn't stop at the pump but pulled up to the little mart. Derek didn't pay much attention at first. It was probably some asshole needing directions, or a woman who wanted her fix of sugar. Funny how many of them, older and loose around the middle, would come over to the mart to buy a candy bar or Wing-Ding, then sneak it into their purse like it was an illegal drug.

But when the driver got out and started toward him, Derek saw it was Charlie, one of his regulars. Usually, the guy drove a Porsche 911 Turbo. He lowered the lift and wiped his hands on his pants.

"Mornin." He walked to the edge of the garage where Charlie was waiting.

Charlie nodded.

Something in his nod wasn't right. Charlie normally booked online. And it was Saturday. Derek's regulars didn't do business on weekends. Weekends were for tourists. First-timers. Happily, there were usually plenty of them. And they often turned into regulars. "What's happening, man?" Derek said.

Charlie walked past Derek into the garage. Derek noticed the guy's pressed khaki slacks and silk sweater. The rich ones couldn't dress down even when they tried. Even their jeans were ironed. He watched Charlie slip his hands in his pockets, then take them out and clasp them together.

"I wanted to-check up on a matter," Charlie said.

Charlie was usually pretty laid back. Not today. "What's that?"

"You remember the girl I was seeing?"

Derek tensed. He knew who Charlie meant. The guy had sampled all the stock but settled on her. Until a few weeks ago.

"I know you talk to your girls," Charlie said. "To make sure they're being treated right. That they're not being hit or hurt or taken advantage of by their-clients."

Of course he did. In his line of business he couldn't risk trouble. He did a pretty good job, if he said so himself. Where was Charlie going with this?

"That's what I need to know," Charlie went on. "Did-well-did anyone..." Charlie paused, carefully avoiding any names, Derek noticed. "Did anyone make any comments about unusual activities during their- client meetings?"

"Man, what the fuck are you talking about?"

Charlie hunched his shoulders. His face took on a surly expression. "I'm sure they tell you where they go. And what happens after they get there. Guys like you-I expect they give you-well-a blow by blow?"

Derek ignored the double entendre. Was Charlie some kind of pervert? He wouldn't have thought so. With his Porsche and nice clothes, Derek had him figured for a guy who just wasn't getting any at home. Maybe he had figured wrong. Sometimes they couldn't get it up. Maybe he was embarrassed about it. Until he knew for sure, he should play it cool. "Hey, man, what you do is nobody's business but yours and your lady's, you know what I mean?"

An even darker look came over Charlie's face. Arching his back, slung his hands in his pockets. He looked like he was fighting to control his anger. "That's not what I meant."

Derek shifted. "So, what do you mean?"

"Do they ever report back about what happens before and after? Calls or other business related things. Not yours. Mine."

"You mean who gets the money and how? You know that happens up front."

Charlie slipped his hands out of his pockets and waved them in front of Derek. "Forget it. This isn't working." He shook his head irritably. "Just forget it."

A chill raced up Derek's spine.

"Hey..." Suddenly Charlie forced a smile, as if they were old pals. "... What about next Tuesday afternoon?" He crossed his arms. "Say around four? Can you set me up?"

Derek wasn't buying it. He replied cautiously. "What are you looking for?"

"I don't know. Something new and different. You decide."

"That's cool."

"Have them come to the usual place, okay?"

"Sure, man."

Charlie smile's widened, baring teeth so white Derek knew they were bleached. He dropped his arms, turned, and headed back to his Lexus. Derek watched him start the car, release the brake, and give a little wave as he drove away.

Derek went back to the lift. This was probably the longest conversation he'd ever had with the dude, but that didn't mean it made sense. What was he getting at? Derek hated it when people talked in that roundabout way, hiding their real intentions, making him figure out what they meant. Lauren did that sometimes. Must be something they all learned in rich school, he thought. He raised the Acura six feet off the ground and shone his light along the frame. Horner had some Nissan brake pads he thought would work. Derek went back to the storeroom to get them.

Thirty minutes later he was working on the car, still puzzling over Charlie's behavior when he remembered. She had said something. It was one of the last times she'd been with Charlie-maybe the last. A Wednesday afternoon, he recalled. Near the end of summer. When she reported in to give Derek his take, she wasn't cheerful like she usually was. He remembered asking if someone had roughed her up. No, she said. Nothing like that. Now Derek stared at the underside of the Acura. What was it she said? Something about bad things happening to good people. And that she would take care of it. Yeah. That was it.

Shit. Now that he was thinking about it, she'd been starting to do the same thing as Lauren. And Charlie. What the hell did it mean? She says something. Then Charlie comes around asking questions. The whole thing was weird. Definitely not cool. Not in their line of work. Derek stopped working, dug out his cell, and text messaged his partner.