Half Past Mourning (31 page)

The mass of people passing around the cars on display for the show took all of Nina’s attention and energy during the endless, steamy afternoon. The judges spent far more time sliding under the long red car, peering at the perfect finish, and consulting with each other than they had with any of the other entries. While they returned, compared notes, and came back again, Nina kept the curious visitors from touching the seamless red coachwork or fingering the gleaming trim. One youngster got close enough to run grimy little hands over a wheel but he was quickly retrieved by a scolding papa who looked as if he’d enjoy a closer examination of the Princess himself.

“Sorry, he’s a little excited. It’s his first time at one of these things,” the young father apologized.

“No harm done,” Nina assured him and grabbed for a polish cloth the moment he was out of sight.

“The Princess has acquired quite a following,” Peter remarked as he wiped the trace of a handprint from the fender. “She’s got the popular vote, anyway.”

Nina looked over the hood of the car and saw her uncle and Tinker coming through the crowd. “I think the judges must be ready to award prizes. My uncle just arrived, and I don’t think they’ll leave him out here in the heat for any length of time.”

Her prediction proved accurate. It took only minutes for the judges to announce the winners of the lesser categories and award the Best of Show trophy to the magnificent red Isotta-Fraschini and its owner. The hoopla was short-lived; Nina had to get the car back in the trailer and under cover before nightfall.

“Now if we can make a decent showing tomorrow,” Nina murmured, as she and Peter packed away the supplies they’d used during the day. “It would make Uncle Eldon’s day if we brought him the trophy for the rally, too.”

“I think we just might pull it off, sweetheart. The other navigators may be better at this game than I am, but I’d bet our team has the best driver in the bunch.”

Nina took his hand. “If I can keep my mind on the road and not on the man beside me.”

“You’re having that problem, too?” Peter ruffled the curls at the back of her head. “I keep wanting to gather you up and go someplace where nobody can find us. Maybe after the rally we can have a little time together?” A gleam in his eye told Nina his thoughts were running to the same interesting activities that distracted her.

“We have to put in an appearance at the party afterward, Peter. That’s when they announce the winners. And we have to stay in costume till the whole thing is over, so the club can get pictures, with team names and car details.” She grinned at his dismayed face. “It’s going to be fun, you’ll see. Didn’t I go to the faculty party for you? It’s the same kind of thing.”

“But in costume?” Peter shuddered at the suggestion.

“Don’t be a spoilsport,” she chided. “Get in the pickup, and I’ll let you ride with the Best of Show car as far as your parking place. I’ve got to get the Princess back to the museum before dark. Uncle Eldon is afraid she’ll take pneumonia or something. You’ll meet me here in the morning? At eight for the drivers’ meeting? We start taking off in one minute intervals at eight-forty-five.”

Peter sighed. “I’ll be here, sweetheart, in my raccoon coat, pork pie hat, waving my ‘Boolah-Boolah’ pennant.” As Nina pulled near the curb so Peter could retrieve his aging Mercury, he looked back over his shoulder. “You know it has to be love when a guy willingly submits to a costume party, a full day in the sun, and no hanky-panky along the way, don’t you?”

Nina giggled at his expression of long-faced suffering. “Go home and get a good night’s sleep, Hamlet. We’ll take on all comers in the morning.” She put the truck in gear and prepared to pull away. “And thanks for being a true prince today, Peter. I couldn’t have done this event without you.”

****

Saturday dawned clear and bright for the festivities of the weekend. Though the morning still held a hint of the night’s cooler temperatures, Nina felt the promise of full-blown Texas heat as she hurried to dress for the day’s events. The cool, watercolor dress gave her a lift, but she wondered if the sheer fabric would be limp and droopy by the time the day was over. She followed Miss Dee’s directions, tying a thin aqua ribbon around her hair and even rolling her stockings down below her knees. She didn’t have a handbag suitable to the costume, she realized. No place to carry her license or that one talisman she’d adopted for her own. Thinking for a moment of Miss Dee’s advice, she rifled through her purse and pulled out her driver’s license and Danny’s little knife. She’d kept it with her since Peter brought it back, not quite able to part with the last thing she’d given the boy she’d loved. Laughing at herself for superstitious nonsense, she tucked her license and the tiny knife into her ruffled garter. Danny would have loved seeing the Isotta on the road. She’d give his memory that much of today.

Pirouetting in front of her mirror, she couldn’t help wondering what Peter would think of her sharing a tiny piece of the day with Danny. The thought of Peter brought a smile. He’d understand, she was sure of it. And thinking of Peter brought some speculation about what he’d found for an appropriate costume.
Poor Peter, trapped in flannels and a tie. At least he can shed the jacket while we’re on the road. Poor, brave boy!

Feeling a little superior in her flirty little dress, Nina scurried to the museum to bring the car to town in time for the drivers’ meeting. For the first time she got the chance to drive the Princess on the open road. The car was performing beautifully. The morning sent a lilting breeze through her short hair as the big car glided through the empty streets and puttered to a stop. She saw the contestants had begun to congregate, some still carrying coffee cups, others clustering to check over their initial instructions. Nina looked carefully but she didn’t see Peter’s tall figure in the groups.

He won’t be late. He couldn’t be.
Nina continued to scan the area, but no russet hair caught a gleam of early sun.

“Looking for a navigator, miss?” The voice came from behind her. Nina turned in relief at Peter’s words.

“Not anymore,” she answered, then took a step back to look at the sporty gent approaching her. Peter was in compliance with the rules. His costume fit the time period in all ways, but he couldn’t have looked more comfortable or more prepared for a hot, summer day. His beige linen knickers were crisp and neat. His soft shirt sported a pinstriped bowtie, and the jazzy spectator shoes in brown and white would have pleased any sheik of the Roaring Twenties. To finish the look, he’d casually draped a matching linen jacket over his arm and wore a flat straw boater tilted at a rakish angle over one eye.

“And you hate wearing a costume?” Nina stepped back for a better look. “You outdid yourself, sir. I am impressed.”

“As well you should be. I’ve had three people working over in the costume department at school to put this outfit together. And it goes back as soon as I can peel out of it tonight, or I’ll be in deep trouble with all of them.” He put her arm through his and dropped a quick kiss on the top of her carefully marcelled hair. “You look as cool as a spring pond yourself. I like the way that dress floats around. It shows off your pretty legs, too.”

“Enough flattery, mister. We’re going to miss the drivers’ meeting if we don’t get over there. They’ll start without us if we aren’t there to draw our number for leaving.”

They hurried to the meeting, and while Nina listened for special instructions and made notes on the back of her copy of the rules, Peter devoted the time to reading through the first set of directions. With a few questions answered and a final word of caution, they were dismissed to get to the cars and take their place in the starting line-up. Nina had drawn number ten of the twenty-five entrants, so the Princess and her crew had only ten minutes to wait before they were flagged to the green line drawn across the courthouse drive. While they waited, Nina took advantage of the time to shuck off the T-strap pumps and slip on her comfortable driving shoes. Peter lifted a russet eyebrow in query.

“I have to be in costume but I don’t have to be miserable while I’m driving,” she said to his unspoken question. “And it’s safer for the Princess. Those heels don’t give me as much control.”

“Long as it’s within the rules, it makes sense,” Peter agreed.

“It is. You’ll see the other drivers making the same change. I’ll just have to change back for the awards event.” She straightened in the seat. “We’re next.” Nina waited until the flagman motioned for her to pull smoothly into the street beside the courthouse. “Okay, navigator, where are we going?”

“Proceed along Main Street to the intersection of Main and Virginia Avenue,” he directed. “Speed should be fifteen, distance four miles, and the landmark we’re looking for is a red barn mailbox.”

“Oh, those tricky devils! This is going to be a long day. They’ve given us landmarks that aren’t road markers or street signs. They’re little eyesores that we have to spot. This should be fun!” Nina settled into her seat and chuckled at the challenge. “Keep your eyes on the roadside, Peter. The markers are going to be hard to see.”

Her prediction was all too accurate. Finding the barn with six owls painted on the roof was hard enough, but locating the gate with two Texas stars almost proved impossible until Peter spotted a weathered fence behind a tumbledown shack. The gate leaned at an angle to the corner post.

“Sneaky, didn’t I tell you?” Nina gleefully checked off the sighting on the list included in the directions.

“You did mention the people who created this thing had devious minds,” Peter admitted. “This page says we’re due to take our mandatory one-hour break. Any idea where we can do that without annoying a nest of rattlesnakes or fighting our way through a bunch of blackberries?”

“I’d feel better about taking a break in the car. No snakes, no blackberries, and no chance of scraping the paint. There’s a wide place beside that mailbox up the way. And it’s in the shade.”

The dense shade of a pair of pecan trees felt good after the glare of the sun they had faced all morning. Peter climbed out to take soft drinks from the cooler in the trunk while Nina spread an old sheet over the upholstery and put out sandwiches.

It didn’t take long to consume lunch. Peter, now hatless, leaned back in the seat and looked up at the canopy of trees. The dusty leaves rustled softly as if a squirrel were scampering between the limbs. Otherwise the heat enforced a silence over the day.

“We haven’t seen another car in quite a while,” Peter mused. “Do you suppose we’re on the wrong road somehow?”

Nina twisted in the seat and took another sip of her bottled drink. “Nope, we’re fine. The thing is, there may be two sets of directions, all leading to the same place with the same time requirements. Rally planners sometimes do that to keep traffic from getting tied up. We’re not lost. Don’t worry.”

“You’re the driver.” He shrugged. “You let me lead you down some strange path, and you’ll have to explain it to your uncle. He knows I don’t know what I’m doing, but he trusts you with this gold-plated go-cart.”

“Well, be reassured. We’re on the right road. There’s another rally driver coming up behind us now.” Nina waved at the black Model T chugging up the road. The driver waved back and rolled on in a cloud of dust.

“We’d better get back on the road,” Peter suggested. “We took our hour, and the next checkpoint is only about forty minutes away. We can’t afford to lose time here. I can’t see any place to make it up.”

Looking at the heat shimmering on the narrow road ahead, Nina agreed. She knew this meandering ranch road with its winding curves and narrow bridges. They’d have to maintain the required speed all the way or drop down in the standings. The planners had left little room for driver error. She started the car and eased away from the shade of the old trees.

They’d passed the next checkpoint before Peter caught her attention with a question that had nothing to do with the road ahead. He turned slightly in the seat and tucked his pages of directions under his bent knee.

“I’ve been thinking, Nina, about this stolen car business the sheriff’s trying to sort out. He’s talking to everybody he can find who drives a sports car. Those thefts are making somebody money. I’m wondering, how does the thief find the buyer?”

“What do you mean, Peter?”

“I don’t know any more about this business than anybody else, probably less, but it seems to me it’s sorta risky just to take a car from a parking lot or garage or wherever and then find a buyer. It’s not like you can go up to the average Joe and say, ‘Hey, buddy, want to buy a Jag or a ’Vette,’ is it? People have to be looking for a car before they decide to buy one. If it’s a sports car, they usually have a particular one in mind. I did, anyway, when I bought the T-Bird. I wanted that year, that model, and if anyone asked, I suppose I would have had a certain color in mind. Yellow, I wanted a yellow one, though I might have bought it in any color at the price Betty Andrews offered.”

“I still don’t see what you’re saying, Peter. When people buy cars, I guess it’s because they’ve looked around and know what they want.”

Peter patted her hand. “Good girl. That’s just what I mean. People are looking to buy particular cars—a Jaguar, an MG, or whatever. Our car thief has to know who is looking. And what they are looking for. So like any businessman, he provides what the customer wants. That’s what I’m suspecting, that our friend the thief takes only cars he knows he can sell. Cars that have a ready buyer. Remember what Betty Andrews said about her husband? He’d wanted a Thunderbird since they first came out. Not that he wanted a sports car. Not that he was in the market for a second car. He wanted, specifically, a T-Bird. I think the thief is stealing cars to the customer’s order.”

Nina risked taking her eyes off the road to look at him. “You mean...”

Peter, eyes narrowed and forehead wrinkled in thought, stared unseeing at the low hills in the distance.