Free Project Northwest by C. B. Carter Page A

Aurora Avenue and they soon
found the car lot of EZ Towing Company.
    EZ Towing Co. was surrounded by a formidable
fence. Much of the fence was little more than a trellis for
Creeping Fig, the vine snaked its way through the chain links, only
sparing the main gate and a few parking spots. If anything stayed
still long enough, the vine would eventually engulf it.
    They arrived at a little past six and the sun
was about an hour from setting. Long shadows were cast over the
area, making the Creeping Fig even more ominous. It was a graveyard
for cars, but felt like it was full of bones. They parked behind
the progressive insurance vehicle.
    “Good, we didn’t miss him,” said Bridget,
pointing to the rather older gentleman sitting in the driver’s
seat.
    They knocked on the window and after some
polite introductions—all three buzzed the gate and were met by a
man with a large belly, axel grease caked under his fingernails,
greasy handprints, and streaks on his white shirt along with what
appeared to be a trail of barbeque sauce. He was a mess and did not
care one bit.
    “We’re here about a '69 Boss 429 Mustang
towed on Friday,” James said.
    “Yep, I got one, damn shame too. ID,” snorted
the man.
    “Who’s ID?” James asked.
    “Well, unless you’re a boxer,” noting James’s
injuries, “I suspect your name is on the paperwork somewhere.” He
eyed James and looked at Bridget, “Ya could do better than him, he
ain’t that pretty or bright. Nice taste in cars, though.” He let
out a hearty infectious laugh as he rubbed his belly. Everyone
joined in except James.
    James took out his wallet and showed the man
his driver’s license.
    “You got to give it to me, gotta make a
copy.”
    James took the ID out and gave it to him,
“Let’s see...” he said as he started flipping through the paperwork
on the clipboard.” How ya doin’ this evening, Manny?” he asked the
progressive insurance man.
    “Doing fine, Harry, how’s your boy in
Yale?”
    “Same as yesterday. Partying on my dime.”
    Having matched the ID to the paperwork, he
continued, “Okay, James Spain, young lady, and Manny, let’s go take
a look, shall we. Ya know, James, I was just messin’ with ya back
there. You actually look better than I expected—the car is a
mess.”
    James’s stomach turned.
    Behind them, an EZ flatbed tow truck honked
its beefy horn, pulled through the gate with its latest prize, a
blue police cruiser with white trim. Two large men with Cheshire
cat grins waved at Harry while pointing at their new-found
treasure. It was obvious to everyone that they were extremely
pleased. It was an odd celebration of sorts, but James had to admit
he found some guilty pleasure in seeing the cop car on the
truck.
    “You guys tow cop cars?” James asked,
surprised.
    “Yep, unless it’s on an emergency call or
something. If they park illegally and the city puts out a work
order, Mickey and Mouse will get it and it’s coming to my garage.
This particular cruiser was parked illegally by some poor soul who
thinks he can park his car anywhere when off duty. I’m all about
safety, ya know.” Harry motioned for the tow truck to take the haul
to the back of the garage.
    “Mickey and Mouse?”
    Harry let out another hearty laugh. “Yeah,
funny, right? Nicknames for two bull cousins from a family on State
Route Two up in timber country. Whole family is big boys, hard
workers, and don’t take any shit. Ya get that way when dealing in
timber and people’s cars all your life.”
    James nodded his head in agreement. He could
see they were definitely big boys and he watched the truck
disappear behind the building.
    They turned the corner of the garage and
there sat the wounded mustang in its own fluids. James looked for
vultures in the sky.
    The front end was completely destroyed, with
much of the damage on the driver’s side. The front bumper had been
removed or fallen off and placed to the side along with half the
grill. The