Greg stood at the sink, washing up the breakfast plates and watching the man standing outside the garage waiting for service. Though the sun was just up, his father, Joe, would have been in the shop already. But he had left an hour ago, heading to Albuquerque looking for some used parts he needed. Greg dried the dishes and left them on the counter atop a tattered blue dish rag, never taking his eyes off the pacing man and his green minivan. There was something off and edgy about the man. Something that made Greg hesitate before going outside. But Greg decided he was just being silly, spooked by his conversation with Lydia Strong, and headed outside.
“Been waiting long, sir?’’ he called.
“No, no. Sorry to come at this hour, but I have to be at work soon and I heard you opened early,’’ the man said, moving toward Greg.
“What seems to be the problem?’’
“I’m having a bit of trouble with the ignition. It doesn’t seem to catch right away – it sort of stutters.’’ The man demonstrated, and the van coughed as he twisted the ignition a couple of times, then hummed to life.
“Well, why don’t you pull it inside and I’ll have a look.’’
“Um,’’ the man said slowly, looking Greg dead in the eye, “how long do you think this will take? I don’t have much time.’’
“Just a minute. If it’s anything serious, then you can bring it on back later when you’re finished with work.’’
The man nodded and then pulled the van into the garage when Greg lifted the heavy door open.
There was something about this man Greg didn’t like. There was something in his gaze that seemed off balance, that made Greg a bit uneasy. His eyes were bloodshot and his thinning hair looked as if it hadn’t been washed in days. Greg couldn’t imagine where he was going to work, in heavily muddied jeans and a black sweatshirt that looked like it had been stained with oil or paint.
A quick check under the steering column revealed two loose ignition wires which Greg quickly tightened. He tested the ignition and the engine caught right away.
Good. Now the guy could leave.
“Just a second,’’ Greg said to the man, “let me just check one more thing.’’ He couldn’t believe what he was doing and he didn’t know why, but he slipped under the car. He pulled a pen out of his pocket and wrote the vehicle-identification number on his arm where he could pull his sleeve back down over it.
“Well, sir. It was just a couple of loose wires. I tightened them and you’ve got nothing to worry about.’’
“Thanks. How much do I owe you?’’
“Forget it; it really was no trouble.’’
“Sure?’’
“Yeah. My father would kill me, says I’m not much of a businessman. But I just can’t see charging people for nothing. So maybe you’ll bring your car back when there’s a real problem or tell your friends about our garage.’’
“You bet. Thanks a lot. Mind if I use your restroom?’’
“Outside and around back,’’ said Greg following him out.
When the man rounded the corner of the building, Greg wrote down the license-plate number. It was probably a silly thing to do, there were so many green minivans around.
The sky was a crystalline blue and there was a light breeze. Greg looked up and immediately saw two vultures circling low off in the distance. Today was something’s last sunrise, thought Greg. He didn’t notice the driver coming up fast behind him as he turned and headed back into the garage.