“I don’t understand how the stuff ended up in Olvidado. I’ve never rented storage space down there.”
I could hear him begin to hedge. “I never said Olvidado. Did I say that? I go to these auctions all over the state. Lookit, I don’t mean to sound crass, but if you’re willing to pony up a few bucks, we can maybe make arrangements for you to get this box back.”
I hesitated, annoyed by the clumsiness of his maneuvering. I remembered my struggle in Mrs. Rosen’s class, how crushed I’d been with the grade after I’d worked so hard. The fact was, I had so little in the way of personal keepsakes that any addition would be treasured. I didn’t want to pay much, but neither was I willing to relinquish the items sight unseen.
I said, “The papers can’t be worth much since I wasn’t aware they were missing.” A’_ready, I didn’t like him and I hadn’t even met him yet.
“Hey, I’m not here to argue. I don’t intend to hose you or nothin’ like that. You want to talk value, we talk value. Up to you,” he said.
“Why don’t I think about it and call you back?”
“Well, that’s just it. If we could find time to get together, you could take a look at these items and then come to a decision. How else you going to know if it’s worth anything to you? It’d mean a drive down here, but I’m assuming you got wheels.”
“I could do that, I suppose.”
“Excellent,” he said. “So what’s your schedule like today?”
“Today?”
“No time like the present is my attitude.”
“What’s the big hurry?”
“No hurry in particular except I got appointments set up for the rest of the week. I make money turnin’ stuff over, and my garage is already packed. You have time today or not?”
“I could probably manage it.”
“Good, then let’s meet as soon as possible and see if we can work somethin’ out. There’s a coffee shop down the street from me. I’m on my way over now and I’ll be there for about an hour. Let’s say nine-thirty. You don’t show? I gotta make a run to the dump anyways so it’s no skin off my nose.”
“What’d you have in mind?”
“Moneywise? Let’s say thirty bucks. How’s that sound?”
“Exorbitant,” I said. I asked him for directions. What a hairball.
I showered and flung on the usual blue jeans and Tshirt, then gassed up my VW and headed south on 101. The drive to Olvidado took twenty-five minutes. Following Ted Rich’s instructions, I took the Olvidado Avenue exit and turned right at the bottom of the offramp. Half a block from the freeway, there was a large shopping mall. The surrounding land, originally given over to agricultural use, was gradually being converted to a crop of new and used cars. Lines of snapping plastic flags defined tent shapes above the asphalt lot where rows of vehicles glinted in the mild May sun. I could see a shark-shaped mini-blimp tethered and hovering thirty feet in the air. The significance escaped me, but what do I know about these things?
Across from the mall, the business establishments seemed to be equally divided among fast-food joints, liquor stores, and instant-copy shops that offered passport photos. There was even a facility devoted to walkin legal services; litigate while you wait. BANKRUPTCY $99. DIVORCE $99. DIVORCE W/KIDS $99 + FILING FEE. Se habla espanol. The coffee shop he’d specified appeared to be the only mom-and-pop operation in the area.
I parked my car in the lot and pushed into the place, scanning the few patrons for someone who fit his description. He’d indicated he was six foot two and movie-star handsome, but then he’d snorted with laughter, which led me to believe otherwise. He’d said he’d watch the door for my arrival. I spotted a guy, who raised a hand in greeting and beckoned me to his booth. His face was a big ruddy square, his sunburn extending into the V of his open-collared denim work shirt. He wore his dark hair combed straight back, and I could see the indentation at his temples where he’d removed the baseball cap now sitting on the table next to him. He had a wide nose, drooping upper lids, and bags under his eyes. I could see the scattering of whiskers he’d missed during his morning shave. His shoulders were beefy and his forearms looked thick where he had his sleeves rolled up. He’d removed a dark brown windbreaker, which now lay neatly folded over the back of the booth.
“Mr. Rich? Kinsey Millhone. How are you?” We shook hands across the table, and I could tell he was sizing me up with the same attention to detail I’d just lavished on him.
“Make it Teddy. Not bad. I appreciate your coming.” He glanced at his watch as I slid in across from him. “Unfortunately I only got maybe fifteen, twenty minutes before I have to take off. I apologize for the squeeze, but right after we spoke, I hadda call from some guy down in Thousand Oaks needs an estimate on his roof.”
“You’re a roofer?”
“By trade.” He reached in his pants pocket. “Lemme pass you my card in case you need somethin’ done.” He took out a slim Naugahyde case and removed a stack of business cards. “My speciality is new roofs and repairs.”
“What else is there?”
“Hey, I can do anything you need. Hot mops, tearoffs, torch-downs, all types of shake, composition, slate, clay tile, you name it. Corrective and preventative is my area of expertise. I could give you a deal. let’s say ten percent off if you call this month. What kind of house you in?”
“Rented.”
“So maybe you got a landlord needs some roof work done. Go ahead and keep that. Take as many as you want.” He offered me a handful of cards, fanned out face down like he was about to do a magic trick.
I took one and examined it. The card bore his name, telephone number, and a post office box. His company was called OVERHEAD ROOFING, the letters forming a wide inverted V like the ridgeline of a roof. His company motto was We do all types of roofing.
“Catchy,” I remarked.
He’d been watching for my reaction, his expression serious. “I just had those made. Came up with the name myself. Used to be TED’S ROOFS. You know, simple, basic, something of a personal touch. I could have said `Rich Roofs,’ but that might have gave the wrong impression. I was in business ten years, but then the drought came along and the market dried up.”
“So to speak,” I put in.
He smiled, showing a small gap between his two front lower teeth. “Hey, that’s good. I like your sense of humor. You’ll appreciate this one. Couple years without rain and people start to take a roof for granite. Get it? Granite. like the rock?”
I said, “That’s funny.”
“Anyways, I’ve had a hell of a time. I hadda shut down altogether and file bankruptcy. My wife up and left me, the dog died, and then my truck got sideswiped. I was screwed big time. Now we got some bad weather coming in, I figured I’d start fresh. Overhead Roofing is a kind of play on words.”
“Really,” I said. “What about the storage-space business? Where did that come from?”
“I figured I hadda do something when the roofing trade fell in. `As it were,”‘ he added, with a wink at me. “I decided to try salvage. I had some cash tucked away the wife and the creditors didn’t know about, so I used that to get started. Takes five or six thousand if you want to do it right. I got hosed once or twice, but otherwise I been doing pretty good, even if I do say so myself.” He caught the waitress’s attention and held his coffee cup in the air with a glance back at me. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”
“That sounds good. How long have you been at it?”
“About a year,” he said. “We’re called `pickers’ or storage-room gamblers, sometimes resellers, treasure hunters. How it works is I check the papers for auction listings. I also subscribe to a couple newsletters. You never know what you’ll find. Couple of weeks ago, I paid two-fifty and found a painting worth more than fifteen hundred bucks. I was jazzed.”
“I can imagine.”
“Of course, there’s rules to the practice, like anything else in life. You can’t touch the rooms’ contents, can’t go inside before the bidding starts, and there’s no refunds. You pay six hundred dollars and all you come up with is a stack of old magazines, then it’s too bad for you. Such is life and all that.”
“Can you make a living at it?”
He shifted in his seat. “Not so’s you’d notice. This is strictly a hobby in between roofing engagements. Nice thing about it is it doesn’t look good on paper so the wife can’t hit me up for alimony. She was the one who walked out, so up hers is what I say.”