Three- ring binder organized by date, containing the complete genealogy of my mechanical baby. "Here's my DMV registration," I said, handing Rodriguez the holy grail of vehicle ownership. 18 months old, my name, this address, matching VIN. His flashlight beam danced across the official state document.
Everything aligned perfectly. Numbers, dates, signatures, the works. "Insurance policy, too. " I flipped to the next plastic sleeve.
Progressive required photos of the restoration progress for agreed value coverage. Chen was scribbling notes, occasionally glancing at Brenda's increasingly creative explanations. The woman was unraveling faster than a clearance sweater, and I was starting to feel almost sorry for her. Almost. "Officers, he obviously forged everything. " He's probably running some sophisticated identity theft operation. That accusation was my cue to deploy the nuclear option. From the very back of my binder, I extracted a piece of yellow legal paper, edges soft from handling and memory, written in the shaky cursive of a 93-year-old widow, 1967 Chevrolet Camaro.
Condition as is. Extensive rust damage throughout. $3,200 cash. Buyer assumes all responsibility.
Below that, a signature that belonged in a museum. Eleanor Hutchinson estate sale followed by a phone number and date from 18 months ago. Rodriguez examined the handwritten bill of sale like he'd discovered buried treasure. This is the original purchase document.
Eleanor was selling her late husband's project cars. Sweetest lady you'd ever meet. made me promise to bring the car back for her to see when I finished. The silence that followed was so complete I could hear my neighbor's sprinkler system three houses down. Chen closed his notebook with the finality of a judge's gavel. "Ma'am, this gentleman has clear chain of ownership documentation spanning over a year. Your evidence appears to be internet printouts. " Rodriguez's tone shifted to that special register cops reserve for people having public meltdowns. "Ma'am, I need to inform you that filing a false police report is a misdemeanor offense in this state. " My dad was a prosecutor for 30 years, and I've seen people get real jail time for knowingly providing false information to law enforcement. The color drained from Brenda's face like someone had opened a valve. I There must be some terrible mistake. The stress of car shopping.