Cadillac Cathedral by Jack Hodgins Read Free Book Online Page B

time I go by your place I see ’er still parked in the weeds. Have you even bloody started?”
    Although he was face-to-face with Beryl Woods, he avoided looking into her eyes, which were imperfectly aligned. “There’s no use even starting till I’ve found a replacement for that cracked gear box.”
    “Have you looked ?”
    “I warned you, Beryl.” Speaking to Beryl Woods usually required some care. She did not respond well to evasions. “Ford pickups just aren’t showing up in the bush, or even the junkyards. I should’ve kept that little black Hillman for your niece.”
    “Bah!” Beryl Woods released him with a gesture that clearly said Get away from me, you !”
    A series of tables had been set up down the length of the back wall,each with a local artist or artisan standing behind it — or, he supposed, a friend — ready to sell the wares displayed on the tables or hung on the wall at their backs. Knitted sweaters were taped, spread-eagled, to the plywood. Wood toys were lined up on home-made shelves. Walter Percy had brought his daughter with him this time, in case she attracted more interest in his walnut salt and pepper shakers — which wasn’t likely so long as she kept that resentful expression on her face.
    Billy-boy Harrison’s table was between Percy’s wooden toys and Maggie Reynolds’ hooked rugs. Billy stood at attention, his fingers combing down through his patchy beard. On the wall behind him he’d hung half a dozen box-framed plywood squares, each filled with a variety of glued-together junk. One was crammed with broken crockery fitted together like a jig-saw puzzle, another with an assortment of small plumbing items: washers, a spindle top from a tap, an elbow coupling, a rubber bathtub plug with dangling chain, a T-junction joint.
    “Looking for something, Mr. Saarikoski?”
    “I am, Billy, yes.”
    He was tempted to accuse Billy of wasting perfectly good parts that someone could have used for a better purpose, but at least he hadn’t sent them to the dump.
    “You see anything you lack?”
    Had he said “lack” or “like?” Arvo couldn’t tell. If you’d forgotten that Billy-boy was from the Deep South, his slow accented drawl was a surprise. Some claimed he put it on, but Arvo suspected that Billy was too open-hearted to be skilled at deliberate falsity. “You’re lookin’ at my Open Sesame there. Those handles represent the opportunities that await us if we just open ourselves to the world.”
    “Is that so?” As far as Arvo knew, Billy-boy Harrison had neveropened himself to the world beyond finding the fastest route between South Carolina and the Canadian border. “What I’m looking for today doesn’t hang on walls. I need a tire.”
    Billy-boy’s interest perked up. “Well, I have an abundance of those at home.”
    “I know that, Billy. I’ve seen them from the road. You stack up many more of those towers you’ll have to apply for a building permit.”
    Billy-boy seemed pleased to hear this. “I don’t suppose any old tire will do.”
    “I don’t suppose it will.” Arvo removed the note from his pocket and consulted his scribble. “I’m looking for a Series 353. Pretty rare.” He read directly from the paper. “Seven, dot, zero, zero, dash, A. This is a 19-inch tire.”
    “Well, that’s pretty darn specific. I’ll have to check my records for one of those.”
    “I’d like some decent tread on it. And I’d rather you didn’t take much time looking.”
    “What do you call decent tread?”
    “You can start with not bald and work up from there.” Arvo laughed to hear himself say this.
    But Billy raised his eyebrows. “Well sir, I figure if you get much tread at all you’ll be lucky.”
    “All I need right now is one that’ll run a couple hundred k without a flat. You think you can find me that while I’m minding your stall?”
    “I keep a record. I know where every tire is at. I like to keep them together with their own kind, if you know