As she rides by

“I’m having the time of my young life. ‘Course, you could try swimming, it’s only a couple of miles to the nearest neighbors, and as far as I know there aren’t any man-eating sharks in these waters this time of year, but I’m no expert, of course.”
    “What you are is dead,” said the driver.
    “Smell that sea air!” I said, inhaling deeply. “Listen to those seagulls. Look on the bright side of things. Think positive, boys. Your boss—and I wonder who he is, by the way?” No answer this time. “He is not going to be pleased when you two miss your court appearance, because there is no way in hell you are going to make it in time, not even with an hour’s grace that some judges allow. So there goes your bail money, boys, or, more likely your boss’s. Wonder how much it was, ten grand, fifteen, each? Then what do you do? Either go back to Pittsburgh , where you’ll be just in time for the playoffs, or maybe have your mouthpiece produce a letter in court mañana maybe from your mother saying her little boy was too sick to go to school yesterday, or how about a letter from a bona-fide doctor attesting to some medical reason for your no-show? That might be acceptable by the court. And that we are going to take care of right now.” I dug the day’s newspaper out of my bag, rolled it up, and tossed it to the silent one. Then I dug out my Canon Prima auto zoom, which was already primed for action, and said, “Say cheese! And I do not mean Gruyère.”
    When I was done, I put the camera away. “What I have,” I said, “is several lovely candid snaps of both of you reading today’s paper and basking in the sun. See that window frame right above you? You will note that it is casting a shadow on the gravel in front of you, in other words, amigos, it is acting like a sundial. If anyone ever wanted to check the exact time those adorable pictures were taken, all they would have to do is come back out here and wait till the shadow on the gravel matched the one in the photos. So, to put it another way,” I said, “what I have is proof positive that on the 29th of August, at roughly eleven in the a.m., you two were not in the children’s ward of some hospital with German measles, but soaking up some rays just past Las Tunas Beach. All in all,”
    I concluded, “I’d try Pittsburgh . Oh. Could I have my paper back, please? For all I know one of you might be an origami master and be able to make a three-piece suit plus a hat out of it. And by the way, there’s nothing left in your car to fashion a casual wardrobe out of, unless you want to try tearing up the car seats with your teeth. Any comments?”
    There were comments, which I will not bother to repeat here. Then I said, “Adios, gents. Enjoy your stroll,” and eased myself into the Mercedes.
    “You’ll get yours, fuck-face,” the driver called in parting.
    “Anytime,” I called back out the window. “I’m in the book.”
    Leaving a spatter of hot, sharp gravel behind me, I made tracks out of there, a smile on my lips and a song in my heart. That is what I call a smooth operation, Daniel, I said to myself as I swung easily into the first turn. Smooth—just like you, baby. A hundred yards later the car veered suddenly to the left, then to the right, then came to a gradual stop. Smoothly. I couldn’t be out of gas; I checked the gauge, it said I wasn’t. And I couldn’t remember seriously scraping anything under the car on the way in, although the gravel had been washed away in a couple of places. And Phil and Ted hadn’t been anywhere near the goddamn heap that I knew, so what the hell?
    I hopped out and saw what the hell. No wonder the mute had appeared relatively unconcerned and his pal more full of hot air than murderous fury. What had stopped the car was three flat tires. I don’t know what those things are called that caused the flats, but they were dreamed up I believe by some boffin in WW 2 and they consist of a series of needle-sharp spikes so set into a central, round core that whatever way up they are at least a couple of the spikes are placed to do the maximum damage. Remember the game of jacks? Sort of like a large jack, but sharp. I’d used a handful of them once, just as effectively as they’d been used on me, too. The one left over I’d used as a paperweight until it disappeared mysteriously one afternoon only to reappear two days later dangling from Sara the twerp’s left ear.
    A further look around informed me