12
Ricky’s Junk Yard was just outside of the subdivision boundaries and farther along the twisted mountain road we had taken to get up to Crystal Pines. When we pulled up, Ricky himself came out to greet us.
“And what’ll you ladies be wantin’ to look at?” he asked as he gave each of us the once-over. His narrow face betrayed only polite interest, but I got the feeling he figured we’d be a waste of time.
“We’re interested in a car you just towed back here this morning,” I said. “It belonged to Louise.”
His eyebrows crawled up his forehead. “And how’d you know that?”
“Honey told me.”
“Ah, so you’ll be the old man’s granddaughter. And this is the friend?”
“This is Lonna Marconi, a social worker from Little Rock.”
“Pleased to meet you.” She held out her hand and turned the full force o
