Read Online R.P. Dahlke - Dead Red 04 - A Dead Red Alibi by R.P. Dahlke - Free Book Online
Authors: R.P. Dahlke
Ads: Link
that would keep me from the puzzle of the police chief and the dead art compound owner. I wandered between some empty crates, stopping at a heavy tarp covering a machine with wheels and propped up on wood blocks.
“I think I found your tractor, Dad.”
“Too long, too low, and those wheels don’t look right. Here, take a hold of the edge and we’ll pull off this cover.”
Together we pulled back the heavy tarp and draped it over the trunk of a small open vehicle. When the dust settled, there was just enough light to see that it was definitely not a tractor.
“It’s a little open cockpit two-seater,” I said, admiring the sleek shape. “And I think it used to be blue.”
“This isn’t a sports car, Lalla, it’s a race car,” my dad said, pointing to a dusty smudged number 6 on the side. He went to the bench and came back with an oily rag.
“It’s been here all this time? Why didn’t Great -Uncle Ed take it with him when he went back to Texas?”
He finished wiping away the dirt covering the white number against the sky blue paint, and plucked at his lower lip. “Don’t know.”
“No wonder the key didn’t work. Something like this must be valuable, right?”
“Depends,” he said working at the leather latches on the hood. “Let me open the hood and see if there’s even a motor in it.”
He raised the hood and released another dust storm, forcing us to back up.
In a hushed tone, I said, “I bet no one’s touched this thing in fifty years.”
He whistled. “That’s an aluminum engine, and this here’s an overhead cam with dual carbs. I’ve never seen one quite like it. I’ll have to look it up on the Internet.”
“Sure you will. As soon as we have electricity and phone service.”
“Oh, yeah. Maybe there’s a generator somewhere in here,” he said, looking around. “At the very least, we could get the well pump going for water.”
I snickered. “What happened to all that pioneering spirit?”
“I’d like to have running water,” he said, wiping his oily hands with the grimy rag.
Running water, my ass. He was excited about his new find and wanted to know more. And to think, until this year I couldn’t talk him into a cell phone, much less a computer. His lady friend cured him of his internet phobia when she show ed him how it could compare prices and have purchases delivered without ever leaving the house. If there was one thing my dad hated, it was spending too much money and having to interact with salespeople to do it.
“But do you think it’s valuable?” I asked.
“Knowing your great-uncle Ed, it is. He’d already amassed a fortune in oil, land and cattle by the time they bought this property.”
“We should tell Aunt Mae it’s still here. She might want it back.”
My dad looked up and smiled. “Did you read the deed? It said, ‘ The land and all of its contents entailed.’ Why don’t you scoot back to the house and get a flashlight, and let’s see if we can get this baby running again.”
I did as he asked, now excited about our find. Even if it turned out to be worthless, we’d have another vehicle to drive.
When I returned, he was leaning against the workbench, trying to read the print of a small book in the dim light. He muttered his thanks for the flashlight and went back to reading.
“Well?” I asked.
“The manual is in Italian, but I can pretty much figure out what’s what. It’s a Bugatti, whatever that is. The engine’s intact, but I’ll have to remove the carburetors. If it’s all gummed up …. and I’ll have to drain the oil. It will need fresh gas and a 6-volt battery, unless we want to use the hand crank. A golf cart battery would work. Where would I get one of those? Didn’t we see a sign for a golf course nearby? We could ask there.”
“When Caleb gets back, ” I said, laughing at my dad’s enthusiasm.
“Sure, sure. In the meantime, let’s get to work on the engine.”
A half-hour later, I heard the Jeep.
“I
“I think I found your tractor, Dad.”
“Too long, too low, and those wheels don’t look right. Here, take a hold of the edge and we’ll pull off this cover.”
Together we pulled back the heavy tarp and draped it over the trunk of a small open vehicle. When the dust settled, there was just enough light to see that it was definitely not a tractor.
“It’s a little open cockpit two-seater,” I said, admiring the sleek shape. “And I think it used to be blue.”
“This isn’t a sports car, Lalla, it’s a race car,” my dad said, pointing to a dusty smudged number 6 on the side. He went to the bench and came back with an oily rag.
“It’s been here all this time? Why didn’t Great -Uncle Ed take it with him when he went back to Texas?”
He finished wiping away the dirt covering the white number against the sky blue paint, and plucked at his lower lip. “Don’t know.”
“No wonder the key didn’t work. Something like this must be valuable, right?”
“Depends,” he said working at the leather latches on the hood. “Let me open the hood and see if there’s even a motor in it.”
He raised the hood and released another dust storm, forcing us to back up.
In a hushed tone, I said, “I bet no one’s touched this thing in fifty years.”
He whistled. “That’s an aluminum engine, and this here’s an overhead cam with dual carbs. I’ve never seen one quite like it. I’ll have to look it up on the Internet.”
“Sure you will. As soon as we have electricity and phone service.”
“Oh, yeah. Maybe there’s a generator somewhere in here,” he said, looking around. “At the very least, we could get the well pump going for water.”
I snickered. “What happened to all that pioneering spirit?”
“I’d like to have running water,” he said, wiping his oily hands with the grimy rag.
Running water, my ass. He was excited about his new find and wanted to know more. And to think, until this year I couldn’t talk him into a cell phone, much less a computer. His lady friend cured him of his internet phobia when she show ed him how it could compare prices and have purchases delivered without ever leaving the house. If there was one thing my dad hated, it was spending too much money and having to interact with salespeople to do it.
“But do you think it’s valuable?” I asked.
“Knowing your great-uncle Ed, it is. He’d already amassed a fortune in oil, land and cattle by the time they bought this property.”
“We should tell Aunt Mae it’s still here. She might want it back.”
My dad looked up and smiled. “Did you read the deed? It said, ‘ The land and all of its contents entailed.’ Why don’t you scoot back to the house and get a flashlight, and let’s see if we can get this baby running again.”
I did as he asked, now excited about our find. Even if it turned out to be worthless, we’d have another vehicle to drive.
When I returned, he was leaning against the workbench, trying to read the print of a small book in the dim light. He muttered his thanks for the flashlight and went back to reading.
“Well?” I asked.
“The manual is in Italian, but I can pretty much figure out what’s what. It’s a Bugatti, whatever that is. The engine’s intact, but I’ll have to remove the carburetors. If it’s all gummed up …. and I’ll have to drain the oil. It will need fresh gas and a 6-volt battery, unless we want to use the hand crank. A golf cart battery would work. Where would I get one of those? Didn’t we see a sign for a golf course nearby? We could ask there.”
“When Caleb gets back, ” I said, laughing at my dad’s enthusiasm.
“Sure, sure. In the meantime, let’s get to work on the engine.”
A half-hour later, I heard the Jeep.
“I
Similar Books
