Letters From the Grave

mechanic was a toothless man, probably younger than Will, about five-five and one hundred-twenty pounds. His fingers were black, and Will guessed he hardly bathed, like Will’s truck. He asked, “So, what’s the deal? Do I need to add water?”

  The mechanic said, “Hell, boy. This old rig is burnt. Look at the oil. It’s black and thick as tar. Been way too hot.”

  Will asked, “So can we fill it up and get it back on the road? I don’ wanna be spendin’ no money on this rig.”

  “Shit man. Why’d you even stop then? Should jes’ kep’ on rollin’ down the ways here and started a forest fire. This engine is all burnt. Rings, valves, bearings, the works, she’s done in.”

  “So, can you fix it tonight? You know, like fill it with thick oil or STP? I can pay you know.”

  “Man, I couldn’t fix it in a month, and it ain’t worth it. Get yo’self sumpin new’s cheaper’n fixin’ this rig.”

  Will had a problem with his cargo hidden under a tarp in the bed. “So, where can I get a new truck this time ‘o night?”

  “Cain’t, man. There’s Honest Roy’s Car Emporium down aways.” Toothless signaled with his hand, farther from the Interstate, down the country road.

  “Well, I can’t leave this here tonight. I gotta stay with it.”

  “Like I said, friend, it’s shot. I don’ wan’ it here any mor’n you wanna leave it. Tell you what. I’ll fill it up with gear oil. It’s sho’ hot enough to start with that stuff. It’ll stay in there a few miles. Jes’ head on down to Roy’s, and he’ll he’p you in the mornin’. You can even sleep in it ‘till then. Don’t spect it to start in the mornin’ cold. That stuff’s like glue. Like I say’d, it’ll run tonight while it’s real hot, but not in the mornin’”

  “Okay. How much for the oil?”

  “Well, I figure its twenty bucks for the oil and twenty bucks for m’ time.”

  “Forty bucks? That’s stealin’”

  “Then go some where’s else!”

  Will looked at him in bewilderment. “Okay. I got a gold coin the man gave me eight hundert for in Atlanta. I want some change.”

  Toothless smiled across blackened gums. “Ain’t no gold dealer’s here, pal. If’n that’s all you got, then I’ll keep it for security, and you can pay me cash tomorrow.”

  In frustration, Will paid with one of the coins in his pocket, which was the best deal Toothless ever made. Will wasn’t coming back here. He needed to get farther west, fast. He paid the extortion, and drove a mile to Roy’s, which was dark, except for some yard lights. He backed into a parking slot in front of the office and killed the engine, never expecting to start it again. Hell. If I knew it was this close I woulda just kept burning the engine with the old oil – it woulda gone another mile! Oh well, ain’t like it’s my money. He lay across the bench seat and tried to stay warm until morning.

  At dawn, the weather was frigid when he woke, sleeping in Honest Roy’s lot. He could see the grey sky through the windshield and swirling clouds, showing an uneasy weather pattern. His watch showed seven o’clock, which meant Roy’s would be closed for a couple more hours. He tried to rest more when someone tapped on his window. “Hey, buddy. What you doin’ here?”

  Will sat up and looked at a pudgy man dressed in jeans and a cowboy shirt that was stretched too tight across his bulging belly. His wide brimmed hat showed adequate hair on the sides, but probably covered a bald head on top. Will yelled through the side window, “I’m waitin’ for Roy. I need a new truck.”

  “Well, then. Come on outta there’n, let’s talk!” The man was smiling broadly before a long spit of tobacco stained the front of his shirt.

  Will climbed out of his old truck, checking to be sure the tarp was secure. The man said, “Howdy. Lookin’ at this wreck, you been needin’ a new ride for a while.”

  “Yeah, I bought it in Oklahoma a year or so ago. Didn’t pay nothin’, so can’t complain, other’n she burnt up on me last night.”

  Roy stepped back and looked from front to back. “I’d say it’s a miracle that it got you this far. Where you headin’, boy?”

  Will thought, “Oh, headin’ east. Lookin’ for work.”

  “Well, if you’re a mechanic, I could use one.”

  “Nope. Don’t know nothing about it.” He didn’t want to be sitting still with a million dollars in gold.

  “All right then. Let me show what we got. I got a 1999 Ford that’s only got forty thousand on the odometer, been well maintained.”

  Without any more discussion or even a road test, Will said, “I’ll take it.”

  “Okay, son, but I cain’t take any credit cards.” He’d dealt with shady buyers before, one of the hazards of his business.

  “I’m payin’ with cash – better’n cash, I’m payin’ with gold.”

  “Well, that’s a first. Maybe we should go inside and close the door.” Roy gestured toward the swinging glass doors and looked around to see if anyone else was nearby.

  Will first went to his truck and took a box of coins from under the tarp, careful to look around the car lot. It was early and there were no other people in sight.

  Inside the dealership showroom, he followed Roy to his office. They sat across the desk from each other while Roy pulled a file with the car title from a small safe behind him. “Now, son. You said ‘gold.’ Is that right?”

  “Yes, sir. I got my coins right here.” He patted the box.

  “Well, let’s see.”

  Will opened the small corrugated box and pulled out a smaller blue box with an American Eagle seal stamped in gold. He opened it and showed four 2003 gold bullion proof coins with a small mint certificate indicating 99% pure gold. The sets are sold through the U.S. Mint each year. Will smiled, “I got a bunch o’ these.

  Roy did a quick on-line searche and found several dealers selling the identical gold sets, all around $3600. “Well, son, I’ll tell you what. That truck is priced at nine thousand. I’ll give it to you for six o’ them coin sets.”

  Will stood and put out his hand. “You gotta deal, Roy.”

  Roy smiled slightly, having confirmed the honesty of his customer. At least the coins weren’t traceable. The only thing left was some paperwork that showed a phony low price and a forged driver’s license number. The whole transaction was completed fast, before any other salesmen arrived. Will figured he paid twice what the Ford was worth under the circumstances, but it was better than spending too much time in one place haggling. He moved his new truck beside the derelict and transferred the collection. He then asked if he could use the phone for a quick call to someone out of state.

  Roy said, “Well, all right, but why don’t you make it fast so’s we don’t get any interested characters around here, if’n you know what I mean.”

  Will was shown to a sales desk by the large display window. There was no privacy, but Roy was in an office several feet away. He dialed the number then turned, facing the window and cupping the mouthpiece. When someone answered, Roy could only hear part of the discussion.

  “Yeah, I got it.” Pause. “Yep, I know.” Pause. “She did what?” Pause. “Okay, I got a different ride.” Pause. “Yeah, I’ll make sure. Okay, I’ll call you when I get close.”

  Will finished the call and left with his new Ford truck. Actually, it wasn’t new, but it was the newest vehicle he’d ever driven. It was less than two miles to I-20 West. When he was out of the building, Roy called one of his lot boys to tow the old truck to the back of the lot and remove all identification. He knew a scrap dealer that would dismember it in less than a day.

  The weather near Birmingham became stormy and cold. The Ford had good defrosters and intermittent wipers, everything worked in the truck, which was thrilling to Will. On the western side of Birmingham, he followed billboard signs to Carmine’s Gold Dealer, which promised the highest prices for gold in any form, pure or not.

  Carmine’s was not what Will expec
ted. The signs were larger than the store. It was a bright orange shack with heavy iron bars on the windows. There weren’t many windows and there was only one car out front, a newer model Mercedes. He parked around the side of the building on the gravel lot and untied a corner of the tarp, enough to reach into one of the boxes for a small Plexiglas coin display case.

  There were cameras at every outside corner of Carmine’s and one head-high by the door. Obviously, Carmine was security minded. Inside there was a desk and large vault. Chimes on the door alerted an old man behind a curtain that a customer had arrived.

  “Well. Hello, young man. Welcome to Carmine’s.”

  Will walked up to the desk where the man positioned himself. He could smell coffee, brewing behind the curtain. “I got some gold to sell.” Absently, he added, “It was from my uncle who wanted me ta have it, but I need the money mo’ than a souvenir.”

  “Okay. Let me see what you got. We don’t ask a lotta questions here.”

  Will pulled the small case from his pocket and laid it on the desk. The old man reached inside the desk for an eye loop and peered down at the coin, showing his shiny globe head rimmed in white, with large brown spots.

  “Well, sonny. I can’t really appraise this in the plastic. It looks like a mint proof coin that’s worth more just because it’s never been circulated or even touched.”

  Will was irritated. “So, you won’t buy it?”

  “I didn’t say that. I said it would