Q Is for Quarry

cooking of any kind. Now I wondered if that's why I was so bent – because I lacked the homely services she'd so proudly repudiated.
    Cissy got down off the chair and took Dolan by the hand. Behind Edna's back, he shot me a look that said, Help. I trailed after them, crossing a section of grass that butted up against the garages. A side door stood open and Cissy took us that far before scampering back to her post.
    Ruel McPhee sat on a wooden desk chair inside the door. A small color TV set had been placed on a crate and plugged into a wall-mounted outlet. He was smoking a cigarette while he watched a game show. Ruel was half the size of his wife, gaunt-faced and sunken-chested, with narrow bony shoulders. He wore a broken-rimmed straw hat pushed back on his head while his bifocals were pulled down on the bridge of his nose. He smelled a teeny, tiny bit like he hadn't changed his socks this week. Dolan handled the introductions and a quick explanation of why we were there. At the sight of Ruel's cigarette, Dolan was inspired to take out one of his own.
    Ruel was nodding, though his attention was still fixed on the television set. "That was years ago."
    "DMV tells us the vehicle's registered to you."
    "That's right. Fella from Arizona brought it over here to have the seats redone. I had it parked behind the shop. Someone must have broken in and hotwired the ignition because when I came to work Monday morning, it was gone. Don't know when it was taken. Saw it Friday afternoon, but that's the last I know. I reported it right off and I it wasn't but a week later someone called from the Sheriffs Department up north to say it'd been found. This fellow Gant, who owned the car, paid to have it towed back but it was worthless by then. Car looked like it'd been rolled-doors all messed up, front banged in.
    Gant was pissed as hell." He flicked me an apologetic look for the use of the word. "I told him to file a claim with his insurance company, but he didn't want anything more to do with it. He'd already been in a couple fender-benders and the engine froze up once. He was convinced the car was jinxed. I offered him a fair price, but he wouldn't take a cent. He said good riddance to bad rubbish and signed it over to me." Ruel's gaze returned to the screen where contestants were pressing buttons while the prize money they'd racked up was being flashed on monitors. I couldn't answer even one of the questions they responded to with such speed.
    Dolan said, "What happened to the car?"
    "Someone pushed it down a ravine is what I heard."
    "I mean, where is it now?"
    "Oh. It's setting right out back. Cornell and I intend to do the restoration as soon as we have time. I guess you met him. He's married with three girls, and Justine lays claim to any spare time he has. We'll get to it in due course."
    "Justine's his wife?"
    "Going on fifteen years. She's difficult to get along with. Edna has more patience with the situation than I do."
    "You have any idea who might have stolen the car?"
    "If I did, I'd've told the police back then. Joyriders is my guess.
    Town this size, it's what the kids do for fun. That and throw paint balloons out the back of their trucks. Not like when I was young. My dad would've pounded me bloody and that'd've been the end of that."
    "You ever had a car stolen from the shop before?"
    "Not before and not since. I put up a fence with concertina wire and that took care of it." He turned his attention from the TV. "What's your interest?"
    Dolan's expression was bland. "We're cleaning out our files, doing follow-up on old crime reports. Most of it's administrative work."
    "I see." Ruel stepped on his cigarette and then placed the flattened butt in a Miracle Whip jar that was nearly filled to the brim. He held the jar out to Dolan who stepped on his cigarette and added it to the collection: Ruel was saying, "I'm not allowed to smoke inside, especially when the granddaughters visit. Justine thinks it's bad for their lungs so Edna makes me come out here. Justine can be moody if she I doesn't get her way."
    "Why'd you hang on to the car?"
    Ruel drew back and made a face as though Dolan were dense. "That Mustang's a classic. 1966."
    "Couldn't have been a classic then. The car was only three years old."
    "I told you I got the car for free," he said. "Once we finish the restoration, it'll be worth somewhere in the neighborhood of fourteen thousand dollars. Now I'd call that a profit, wouldn't you?"
    "Mind if we take a