Ty turned at the first corner. He speeded up around the next corner, made a U-turn, and drove back the same way he had come.
The black Oldsmobile was driving straight at them! It quickly parked to pretend it wasn’t tailing the truck, but Ty wasn’t fooled.
“So they’re watching me,” Ty said. “That means it’s the cops. They must have been hidden near the salvage yard. Sit up, Jupe, and we’ll go get you a car. Let them figure out why a car thief is buying used wheels!”
Ty drove from dealer to dealer, from owner-sales lot to owner-sales lot. He spurned every car in Jupe’s price range — which wasn’t very many. Then, at a small owners-lot near the harbor, Ty sported a ten-year-old Honda Civic.
The owner of the little two-door hatchback needed money and was asking exactly five hundred dollars. He said the car had a rebuilt engine with less than twenty thousand miles on it. Ty examined the engine, took the car out for a drive with Jupiter, and pronounced that it did indeed have a new rebuilt engine and was a good buy.
Jupiter made the deal. The car would be ready to be picked up the next day after the paperwork and some small repairs Ty wanted were completed. The owner promised to replace a missing window crank and a burned-out overhead light. Jupiter was so excited he could barely talk. He touched the little blue and white car with awe.
“It’s all mine. Can’t I drive it off now?”
Ty laughed. “Better let the owner make those repairs. We can take the truck to your research. Where do we go, Jupe?”
Jupiter grinned. “Police headquarters.”
*
Pete took back streets down to the Freeway Garage. He saw no sign of the black Oldsmobile. To be safe, he parked behind a lumberyard two blocks away. He walked to the garage and settled behind a fence surrounding the vacant lot across the street.
Hours passed with cars going in for service or to be painted or just to park. They stopped outside the garage and gave a couple of honks until the doors opened. The garage attendant on duty at the door was Max, Torres’s guntoting companion of the day before. Pete tried to decide if some of the cars were stolen. Some of the drivers who came out right away, as if they had just parked inside, didn’t look much like businessmen. But Pete had no real reason to think the cars they had driven in were stolen.
Until he saw a gray BMW sedan.
The driver looked carefully up and down the street before honking: one long, two short, a long, and a short. The doors opened and he drove the BMW in.
The driver was Joe Torres.
Pete left his post and ran back to his Fiero. He drove closer to the garage and parked where he could watch the door.
Ten minutes later the black Buick appeared with two men in it. They drove past Pete without seeing him. The man in the passenger seat was Torres.
Pete pulled out and went after the Buick.
*
Ty laughed as he parked in the lot of Rocky Beach’s police headquarters. “The cops in the Olds’re gonna be real confused.”
“Look!” Jupiter said.
The black Oldsmobile cruised past, hesitating as if its occupants were staring in disbelief.
“What are we doing here anyway?” Ty wanted to know as they walked into police headquarters.
“If Tiburon and the Piranhas are stealing cars when they go out of town on their gigs, there should be a lot of reports of stolen cars where they play.”
“That’d figure,” Ty said, nodding. “How do we get the reports?”
Jupiter grinned. “Watch me.”
He asked for Sergeant Cota and was directed along a busy corridor to the police computer room. A short, dark-haired officer sat at the computer console.
“Jupiter! Come on in.”
Sergeant Cota and Jupiter were fellow computer buffs. Jupe often dropped in at the station to talk computers with him.
After admiring the sergeant’s new laser printer, Jupe said, “This is my cousin Ty. He’s out from the East helping us on a case.”
Sergeant Cota looked at Ty for a moment, then smiled. “Nice to meet you. So, what can I do for you, Jupe?”
“I’m doing a car-theft report,” Jupiter told him. “I need a readout on all stolen cars reported from Santa Monica up to Ventura in the last month.”
“Sure, no problem.”
The sergeant punched various keys on the computer to relay his commands, and after a short wait, his printer began spewing out pages. It printed for nearly three minutes!
“Is that a lot of stolen cars?” Ty asked.
Sergeant Cota nodded. “We think there’s a new ring operating, but there’s always a lot of car thefts. We’re an automobile country.” He gave Jupiter the printout.
“Thanks, Sergeant.”
“No sweat, Jupiter.”
Outside, they hurried to the pickup. There was no sign of the black Olds, but as they drove off it appeared far behind them.
“They don’t know we spotted them,” Ty said.
“We’ll keep it that way. Let them tail us until we have to lose them.”
He headed for the salvage yard.
*
The black Buick did not take Joe Torres back to the bodega, but to a seedy, dilapidated building on the edge of the main downtown shopping area. It left Torres in front of the building and drove on.
Pete parked on the street and followed Torres into the run-down building. There was no elevator inside. Only a feeble light filtered in through the dusty sky-light over the stairwell. Torres went up to the third floor. Rows of scarred half-glass doors lined the uncarpeted hallways. Torres opened the last door on the right and went in.
The lettering on the door read:
Jake Hatch,
Talent & Bookings.
Pete hurried back down the stairs to his Fiero and drove off toward the salvage yard. He watched for the black Olds but saw no sign of it.
“Jupe!” he shouted as he leaped out of the Fiero and ran to the workshop. Inside, Jupiter and Ty were studying a long computer printout. “Torres came to the garage with another car! I tailed him — ”
Jupiter whirled around. “Pete! I’ve got a car! A real little beaut, right, Ty? It’s got a new engine, and — ”
“Great, Jupe, but listen — ”
“ — it’s only a Honda Civic. I’d hoped to get a bigger car, but it gives us three cars, so — ”
“Torres went to Jake Hatch’s office!”
“ — white with a big blue stripe, and I get it tomorrow… ” Jupiter stopped. “What? Torres went where?”
“Jake Hatch’s office!”
Ty said, “Hatch — is that the agent guy?”
The others nodded.
“Now you’re making some connections,” Ty said.
“So what do we do?” Pete said. “Tail Hatch?”
“Perhaps later,” Jupiter said. “First we’ve got to check this computer printout against all the places Tiburon and the Piranhas played this month.”
“How are we going to do that?” Pete asked.
“That’s easy,” Bob’s voice said behind them.
They’d been so busy talking, they hadn’t even heard Bob come into the workshop.“Tell us how it’s so easy,” Pete demanded.
“We sneak into Jake Hatch’s office and check his band schedule!” Bob grinned.
“If he catches us,” Jupiter warned, “our chances of helping Ty are just about zero.”
“I’ll call Gracie and find out where he’ll be tonight. He always watches his bands, just like Sax. We’ll know when to show up and how much time we have. I’ll take Gracie out for a pizza or something and leave the door unlocked so you and Pete don’t even have to bust in.”
Pete reddened. “Sorry, guys. I’m taking Kelly to a movie tonight.”
“I’ll go with Jupe,” Ty said.
“What about the police?”
“Police?” Bob said.
Jupiter explained about the black Oldsmobile.