Free Hot Wheels by William Arden Page A

there were no waitresses. Ty went to the long bar and got a beer and a couple of Cokes, just so no one would hassle them about not drinking at all.
    The first set ended with Ty still not sure if he recognized Tiburon. After the second set, they followed Tiburon and the Piranhas out into the parking area, where the band took their break.
    “I’m pretty sure, but I’m just never going to be dead sure,” Ty said finally.
    Through the third set the mob gave no sign of thinning, not even after Tiburon finished the last song with an extra flourish. He ended up in a complete split out on the dance floor, the sweat glistening on his flushed face. The Investigators had seen nothing that connected to stolen cars.
    “They sure don’t act like car thieves,” Ty said.
    “You can’t swipe cars from a bandstand,” Bob added, discouraged.
    “We’ll follow them,” Jupiter said. “Maybe they steal the cars after their gigs.”
    Outside, the moon had risen. The two Investigators and Ty waited under the tall trees and listened to the whisper of the wind. Almost no one left the club, even though the music had ended. Music wasn’t the main attraction at the Lemon Tree, which probably explained why Tiburon and the Piranhas had gotten the gig — The moonlight cast long shadows on the mountains all around. A few cars passed on the road through the twisting canyon. They heard a dog bark in the distance. But mostly the only sound was the steady rumble of voices from the open tavern doors.
    Tiburon and the Piranhas finally came out with their equipment and instruments. Their graffitied low-riders and an instrument van were parked in a far corner of the field. The band loaded the van and got into their cars. There were more than five cars this time. The girls who always came with them were obviously driving their own.
    “It sure doesn’t look like they’re going off to steal anything,” Bob whispered.
    Jupiter stared at the colorful cars. They stood like painted ghosts in the moonlight of the mountain canyon.
    “Guys! Come on. We have to get closer.”
    “You don’t want them to spot us,” warned Ty.
    Jupiter kept on moving among the parked cars. The guys stayed in the shadows as they crept closer to the exit lane. Tiburon, the Piranhas, and their girlfriends were starting their motors to roll slowly out of the parking field.
    “They’re not in lowrider position,” Bob said.
    “They wouldn’t be, Bob,” Ty said. “They have to drive this mountain road and then the highway to get back to Rocky Beach.”
    The shoelace on Jupiter’s sneaker had come untied. He crouched down to retie it, keeping one eye on the approaching lowriders. Suddenly he fell to the ground.
    “Jupe?” Bob was alarmed.
    “Jupiter!” Ty exclaimed.
    “I spotted something,” Jupiter whispered. “Get down and look under those cars.”
    The three guys lay on the ground as the lowriders passed. In the high position, with their hydraulics pumped up, they rode like normal cars.
    “They look like any other cars now,” Bob said. “Except for all those painted messages on them.”
    “Yes,” Jupiter said, barely able to contain his excitement. “Too much like any other cars! Guys, look underneath. Look at what’s missing!”
    Ty and Bob stared under the cars as they rolled out of the lot. The cars rode slowly over the bumps and ruts of the dirt field.
    “They look pretty ordinary to me,” Bob said.
    “Yeah,” Ty said, and then he became excited. “No! They don’t have any bump plates underneath, front or rear! They’re not lowriders in the up position. They’re just ordinary cars!”
    “Ordinary cars all graffitied to look exactly like the lowriders the band does drive,” Jupiter said. “And what kind of cars? Look really close.”
    Bob stared. “That’s a Mercedes! And two Volvos!”
    “There’s a BMW and another Mercedes!” Ty said.
    “That’s what I spotted in the dark, guys — the shapes of Mercedes and Volvos!” Jupiter said.