The Crystal Key by Patricia Rice

Author:Patricia Rice
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Book View Cafe

In the back of Reuben’s utility van, Evie showed Loretta cute hair styles on her phone. Jax had insisted on accompanying them to the used car lot, and Loretta had wanted to ride along—so Evie didn’t miss the hair appointment. Poor Reuben got dragged along for the ride.

It was becoming increasingly obvious they needed a family car, not a Miata. A boring sedan no one would notice on a stake-out, she told herself. Not that staking out ghosts seemed like a good idea.

“You didn’t give me much time to check out the used-car dude,” Reuben complained from the driver’s seat.

“I’ll check his aura and know if he’s honest. You can sit in the van, do your thing, while Jax kicks tires. What does tire kicking accomplish?”

“Not much these days. I think I’ve located a couple of good deals we should check out after you’re done messing with this guy’s head. Since you don’t seem to mind Japanese made, what about a Toyota?” Jax showed her a small hybrid sedan.

“You can modify that? It’s only four cylinders!” Evie had done her homework—she’d interrogated a local mechanic.

“Muscle car, baby.” Reuben added his two cents.

“We’re not buying antique cars,” Jax stated with ominous undertones. “They don’t make engines like that anymore, and they suck gas.”

“Your XKE was practically antique,” Evie countered. “You can’t rebuild modern cars. They’re all electronic.”

“Turbo-charged, four cylinder,” the professor said from the driver’s seat. “Camaro will do it.”

“A Camaro is not inconspicuous. Muscle cars are out. I can add a turbo-charged engine to a beat-up Ford, if speed is what you’re after. Better yet, a Civic or Subaru. High quality and no one notices them.”

Reuben steered into the used car lot owned by Ursula Stanislaus’s husband, Dmitri. Evie had no clear idea of what she expected, but she supposed an open mind was best. As he preferred, Reuben stayed with the van to research used car dealers, while Jax and Loretta climbed out.

The lot wasn’t a large, fancy one. The office looked like an old gas station. The cars were of the ancient, cheap variety that one bought without much credit or trade-in, right up Evie’s alley. She spotted a red Mustang immediately and headed that direction. Jax caught her elbow and steered her toward a brown Civic.

A short, plump man ambled from the office. “Welcome to Savannah’s Best Cars. Can I help you folks?”

Evie pinched Jax’s bronzed arm to shut him up. “I don’t have much money. So I’m just sorta looking. I need a safe car that won’t break down in intersections.”

Already sweating in the August sun, the balding man stuck out his hand. “Dmitri Stanislaus. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” He had only the slightest hint of an accent.

Playing it safe, he aimed his hand between Jax and Evie. Jax grabbed it first. “Just call me Jack, and this is my wife, Ivy. She’s set on choosing her own car.”

Oh, listen to the smooth-talkin’ lawyer sounding all hick and everything. Jack and Ivy.

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