Page 35 of Tarnished Hands

“Probably work.”

Of course.

“Thanks.” I wave to Tony and decide I should go and wait out front for Sailor.

When I walk past the front door, I find my apartment keys and phone waiting there for me. Picking them up, I press call on his number.

He doesn’t answer.

Chapter Twenty

EZRA

Days go by, and it’s easy to get lost in which day it is when you love your job. However, finding a dead body again is not what I call fun.

The days blur together—oil, metal, machines. I live for it. But the stench in this one? Not motor oil. Not grease. Just a dead man.

I step back from the open trunk and slam it shut.

Fucking hell.

I sent Keir a coded message, and he told me he’d see me soon. Whomever it is, better get here soon. I want this thing out of my shop before it stinks up the place.

Ten minutes later, a knock comes from the reception area, and I almost fucking forgot I’m doing interviews this afternoon. Now that I don’t have Lydia to man the front, it’s becoming harder and harder for me to handle everything. So I put an ad out, and hopefully, I can find someone to replace her.

Walking into the office, I grab my rag and wipe my hands before I pull open the door to find a man standing on the other side. I invite him in, and he tells me all about his love for cars. He’s young and seems eager to work. The interview went well, but I still have one more person to interview. He thanks me and tells me he can start any time.

I wait for a good half an hour before another knock comes on the door. When I open it, it’s a woman this time. She’s wearing a red dress, and her lips are painted bright red. She smiles and offers me her hand.

“Hi, I’m Aqua. Yes, like water and the color. Weird, I know. I’m here for the interview.”

“Ezra,” I say, and pull my hand away. Inviting her in, I watch as she scans everything before her gaze returns to land on me.

“Is this the office?” She waves a hand around the area. She looks too put-together to want to work here. This place is neither clean nor the type of working environment I am sure she is used to.

“Yes.”

“Could use a woman’s touch. It’s a bit dirty.” She walks to the window, which overlooks the garage. She points to the car with the dead body in it. “Is that a Cadillac?” she asks, looking over her shoulder at me. “1961,” she adds.

Color me impressed. This woman knows her cars.

“It is.”

“Can I see it?”

“No,” I say quickly. “I like to work alone in my garage when the staff go home. I need someone to work in here and handle the calls and customers.”

“I can do that. My father was a mechanic, and he taught me a thing or two,” Aqua says with a smile. Weird name, but somehow, it strangely suits her. “So, when do I start?”

“Why would you want to work here?” I ask. Clearly, she is a woman of better taste. I have a feeling that the bag she’s holding is the expensive type, not a knock-off. I don’t know much about designers, but the two Cs indicate the branding.

“My husband died a few years back and left me with a lot of money, and now I’m bored. I’ve done all my traveling, bought a house, tried a few jobs.” She shrugs. “Nothing interested me until I saw your ad. And I smiled when I did…” The smile she gives me lights up her face. “It made me think of my father.”

“This is a lonely job. You’ll be by yourself most of the time. I tend to stay in the garage and don’t move around that much.”

“That’s fine,” she says. And I feel like she means it.

“Can you start tomorrow?” I ask.

---