Rescue

raised the car to where I had three inches of airspace under the bad tire. Eddie helped me roll the good tire over to it.
    I said, “This space between the flat tire and the ground is so we can put on the spare without having to jack any more.“
    “Because it’s bigger than the flat one.“
    “That’s right.“ I took off the southeast lug nut first and handed it to Eddie. “If we had a lot of tools, it wouldn’t matter much, but out here, we need to keep track of which nut came off which lug.“
    He stared at the metal in his right hand.
    I said, “How can we do that?“
    Eddie looked back at the wheel and nodded four times. “Four... nuts, right?“
    “Right.“
    He looked around, then down at himself. “I’ve got four pockets in my jeans.“
    “Good idea. Which order you going to use?“
    Eddie thought about it, then used his left palm to slap left front, right front, left rear, right rear.
    I said, “That ought to work.“
    He stuck the first nut carefully into his left front pocket.
    We followed the same routine with each lug before rocking the flat gently until it came off. I laid it on the ground between their car and mine.
    Eddie said, “Why are you doing that for?“
    “You mean instead of putting the flat in the trunk?“
    A nod.
    I pointed under the car. “If I put something heavy in the trunk, I throw off the weight and maybe make the jack
    move.“
    He looked underneath the chassis. “And that might make the car slip, right?“
    “Right.“
    As we moved back to the good tire, Eddie said, “You a mechanic?“
    “No. Why?“
    He bit his upper lip again. “It’s just... You sure know a lot about cars, is all.“
    “Everybody should know how to change a tire, Eddie, no matter what kind of work you do.“
    “What kind of work do you do?“
    “I’m a private investigator.“
    When he didn’t respond, I turned my head to look at him. He was staring at me, awestruck I lifted the spare onto the lugs. Eddie said, “You’re kidding?“
    “About what?“
    “About being a private eye.“
    “No, I’m not. Here.“
    He accepted my ID folder as though it were a newborn chick.
    I said, “Open it.“
    His lips moved while Eddie read to himself. “Just like Magnum and Rockford and all those guys.“
    Cars he didn’t know, but even in small towns they have television. “It’s not like that in the real world, son. Pretty tame most of the time.“
    Holding open my ID, Eddie said, “If something ever... If I ever got lost or anything, would you come help me?“
    “ Sure.“
    His voice got more serious. “Promise?“
    I felt that vague tug of memory again. “Promise.“
    With the grave nod, Eddie folded the ID and gave it back to me.
    I fit the nuts back onto the lugs hand-tight, then stood and stretched.
    Eddie said, “Aren’t you going to use the thing on them?“
    “The lug wrench?“
    “Yeah, the... wrench.“
    “Once the car’s back on the ground.“
    He looked at the wheel, then under the chassis again. “So the jack doesn’t slip, right?“
    “Maybe you should be the mechanic, Eddie.“
    “Maybe. Maybe I will.“
    It was the most hopeful thing I’d heard him say.
    Melinda’s voice said, “Eddie, come here, will you?“
    He left me. Ratcheting the jack handle to lower the car, I heard Melinda say, “Mr. Cuddy?“
    “Yes?“
    “Eddie and me are just going down into the trees a minute.“
    I was about to say “How come?“ then caught myself in time. “Sure. I’ll still be a little while here.“
    I watched them move down the slope of the shoulder into the bushes and disappear. Finishing with the handle, I started to crawl under the chassis to retrieve the jack. I heard a vehicle swerve into the slow lane as it passed me, then hit its brakes farther south. From beneath the Swinger I watched a GMC Sonoma pickup, navy blue with a camper shell in its bed, back up fast along the shoulder until its rear bumper was only ten feet or so from the front of the Dodge.
    I slid out from under and started to stand as the driver’s door of the truck opened and a man’s head and shoulders came out. The head wore an Atlanta Braves baseball cap over shaggy, reddish hair, buck teeth, and jug-handle ears. His aviator sunglasses would have kept his eyes from me even if the afternoon glare hadn’t been in mine. The shoulders were broad under a green and black lumberman’s shirt, a little warm for the weather even with the sleeves rolled up, showing tanned, wiry forearms.
    He