Ok?‖
Nettie nodded and slipped quietly away. She returned to a chair in the living room. Nettie tied her hands together with the bandanna.
―Well, Vee, old buddy,‖ Spurlock said, trying to rub the sleepiness from his eyes, ―what do you think?‖
Valverde, every bit as tired as Spurlock, said, ―I think if we ever find the son-of-a-bitch, that lady can put him into the gas chamber. She‘s as creditable as anyone‘s mother. There‘s not an ounce of deception in her.‖
―Flossie‘ll make a hell of a witness, too,‖ Doc said. ―She seems to have a real good eye for detail. All we need to do is find the guy.‖
―With all the cops Scarberry's got out here, I don't know how we can miss.‖ Valverde took a drink of coffee. ―You'd think old Bud was some kind of important person or something, instead of the thieving bastard he was.‖
―Just how big a bastard was he, Vee? I never met the man. I always worked Gallup and Grants west. Never over here.‖
―I worked over here for a year or so, right out of recruit school,‖
Vee said. ―You ever hear the famous fan belt story?‖
―No. I don't think so, anyway.‖
―Some tourist busts a fan belt somewhere over between San Fidel
and Grants. This is long before there was any Interstate highway. The guy hitches a ride back to Budville and tells old Bud his problem. Bud fires up his little wrecker and takes the guy back to his car. He hooks up the car to the wrecker and tows it back here. The tourist, so the story goes, asks about what it was going to cost him and Bud tells him not to worry nothing about it. Anyway. Bud goes out there in his salvage yard and finds a car similar to the tourist's car and he takes off a used old cracked and dried-out fan belt and he puts it on the tourist's car. Then he says to the tourist, ‗That'll be twenty-five bucks.‘ ‗Ain't that a lot for a used fan belt?‘ the tourist says. Bud goes into his pants pocket and pulls out his jackknife and opens it up. He reaches under the guy's hood and cuts the belt off the pulley. He turns around to the tourist and he says, ‗Go buy the goddamn thing somewheres else.‘ He goes inside the store and locks the door behind him. It's twenty-five miles or more in any direction to the closest fan belt. That's the way old Bud did business.‖
―What happened to the tourist?‖
―Beats hell out of me but there‘s a bunch of stories about Bud stranding people at the trading post, forcing them to leave their car and take a bus to Grants or Albuquerque to raise money enough to bail it out of his salvage yard. Sometimes he charged more for storage than the car was worth. That's how he got all them cars out back there. There must be a hundred or more. Another thing he used to do is pray for snow. Tourist gets stranded way out here in a snowstorm and he'd sell ‗em tire chains; a ten dollar set for fifty bucks. Take it or leave it.‖
Vee took another drink of coffee. ―I was in here one time, Doc, in JP Court, and this tourist pulled up to the pumps. I seen this with my own eyes. Ohio plates on the car. Bud was charging, I think, sixty-one cents a gallon for gas. It was probably thirty cents a gallon in Grants at the time, and a quarter in Albuquerque and everyone thought that was too damn much. The tourist saw how much the gas cost and he asked Bud how far it was to Albuquerque, and Bud told him. So the tourist says, ‗Just let me have three gallons then.‘ Bud says to him, ‗I sell gas by the tank full, not by the gallon.‘ So the tourist says, ‗I only got five dollars.‘ Bud says, ‗how in the hell was you gonna get to Ohio on five bucks?‘ ‗I was gonna wire for some cash in Albuquerque,‘ the tourist says. ‗Ok,‘ Bud says, ‗I'll sell you five dollars worth then.‘ And he did. Bud took the poor bastard's last dollar.‖
―Prince of a guy, huh?‖ Doc said.
―A real prince. You know, Doc, I stood there, in uniform, drinking a Coke and I watched the whole deal. Afterwards I
Nettie nodded and slipped quietly away. She returned to a chair in the living room. Nettie tied her hands together with the bandanna.
―Well, Vee, old buddy,‖ Spurlock said, trying to rub the sleepiness from his eyes, ―what do you think?‖
Valverde, every bit as tired as Spurlock, said, ―I think if we ever find the son-of-a-bitch, that lady can put him into the gas chamber. She‘s as creditable as anyone‘s mother. There‘s not an ounce of deception in her.‖
―Flossie‘ll make a hell of a witness, too,‖ Doc said. ―She seems to have a real good eye for detail. All we need to do is find the guy.‖
―With all the cops Scarberry's got out here, I don't know how we can miss.‖ Valverde took a drink of coffee. ―You'd think old Bud was some kind of important person or something, instead of the thieving bastard he was.‖
―Just how big a bastard was he, Vee? I never met the man. I always worked Gallup and Grants west. Never over here.‖
―I worked over here for a year or so, right out of recruit school,‖
Vee said. ―You ever hear the famous fan belt story?‖
―No. I don't think so, anyway.‖
―Some tourist busts a fan belt somewhere over between San Fidel
and Grants. This is long before there was any Interstate highway. The guy hitches a ride back to Budville and tells old Bud his problem. Bud fires up his little wrecker and takes the guy back to his car. He hooks up the car to the wrecker and tows it back here. The tourist, so the story goes, asks about what it was going to cost him and Bud tells him not to worry nothing about it. Anyway. Bud goes out there in his salvage yard and finds a car similar to the tourist's car and he takes off a used old cracked and dried-out fan belt and he puts it on the tourist's car. Then he says to the tourist, ‗That'll be twenty-five bucks.‘ ‗Ain't that a lot for a used fan belt?‘ the tourist says. Bud goes into his pants pocket and pulls out his jackknife and opens it up. He reaches under the guy's hood and cuts the belt off the pulley. He turns around to the tourist and he says, ‗Go buy the goddamn thing somewheres else.‘ He goes inside the store and locks the door behind him. It's twenty-five miles or more in any direction to the closest fan belt. That's the way old Bud did business.‖
―What happened to the tourist?‖
―Beats hell out of me but there‘s a bunch of stories about Bud stranding people at the trading post, forcing them to leave their car and take a bus to Grants or Albuquerque to raise money enough to bail it out of his salvage yard. Sometimes he charged more for storage than the car was worth. That's how he got all them cars out back there. There must be a hundred or more. Another thing he used to do is pray for snow. Tourist gets stranded way out here in a snowstorm and he'd sell ‗em tire chains; a ten dollar set for fifty bucks. Take it or leave it.‖
Vee took another drink of coffee. ―I was in here one time, Doc, in JP Court, and this tourist pulled up to the pumps. I seen this with my own eyes. Ohio plates on the car. Bud was charging, I think, sixty-one cents a gallon for gas. It was probably thirty cents a gallon in Grants at the time, and a quarter in Albuquerque and everyone thought that was too damn much. The tourist saw how much the gas cost and he asked Bud how far it was to Albuquerque, and Bud told him. So the tourist says, ‗Just let me have three gallons then.‘ Bud says to him, ‗I sell gas by the tank full, not by the gallon.‘ So the tourist says, ‗I only got five dollars.‘ Bud says, ‗how in the hell was you gonna get to Ohio on five bucks?‘ ‗I was gonna wire for some cash in Albuquerque,‘ the tourist says. ‗Ok,‘ Bud says, ‗I'll sell you five dollars worth then.‘ And he did. Bud took the poor bastard's last dollar.‖
―Prince of a guy, huh?‖ Doc said.
―A real prince. You know, Doc, I stood there, in uniform, drinking a Coke and I watched the whole deal. Afterwards I
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