Pedro López-Famosa y Fernández, known to his few friends as Perrucho, stared at the expensive green sports car that pulled onto his car lot. This car, he thought, might be worth more than his entire inventory. What were the odds that two such expensive cars driving onto his lot in one day was coincidence? Zero, thought Perrucho.
The cars that Perrucho sold were, of course, crap. Sold to people who could not, or would not, pay. The kind of people who spent the money that should have been their car payment on renting ridiculous wheels at exorbitant rates. Whatever they had left over would go to purchasing used tires.
It was good for business that he did not identify with the creatures he called his customers. That kept the conscience pure and the interest rates high, and made it easy for Perrucho to take the cars back. But, as this blond woman in a suit entered his tiny office, he realized he might understand this gringa less than he understood his usual customers. For a second he thought she might be a cop, but a cop in that car? Could not be. And a cop who looked like that? It was the kind of thing that could make a man like Perrucho pray for the handcuffs, but not the squad car.
“Can I help you?” Perrucho asked, wearing his most professional smile.
“I’ve got a trade-in, and a friend of mine told me you could help me out.”
“Señora? You mean that beautiful car? I do not know what friend we could have in common, but he or she was very badly mistaken. I would not know what to do with such an expensive car. I cannot sell it to my customers. They are all too poor. Besides, none of my cars would be suitable for your luxurious tastes.”
The woman frowned. “But my friend was just here, he told me he got a very good deal.”
“I have made no deals today, I am sorry. Perhaps you mean Flaco’s place? His place is a little further down,” he said with a smile. “Besides, for a deal such as that, there is much paperwork. And I do not even have the forms. I sell cars, I do not buy them.”
The blond woman said, “What I am looking for is an exchange.”
“What you are suggesting sounds like it would be very illegal,” said Perrucho, having fun with it. “I do not think I could do something like that. Señora, my nerves, they are not so good.”
The woman reached into her pocket and pulled out her FBI ID and badge. “Then how about if I place you under arrest?”
Perrucho laughed and leaned forward in his chair. He leaned across the desk and presented his hands. “Please, put me in the cuffs. Because I ask myself. If you are here to arrest me, then why do you not have backup?”
The woman said nothing.
“I think you are in more trouble than I am. If someone is looking for that fancy car, then, señorita, you need me more than I need you.”
The blond woman had no response to this. She stood there blinking back tears. Perrucho thought they were tears of weakness and frustration. Exhaustion at the end of a long and difficult road. Leverage.
“I do have an offer for you. If you can buy one of my cars for the bargain price of twenty thousand dollars, then I will take the Maserati and dispose of it quietly. How does that sound to you?”
“I know, I know,” said Perrucho, holding up a hand. “You don’t have the money. And there are many, many excuses for this. Believe me, I have heard them all. And I sympathize. I am not a man without a heart. So I tell you what I will do. I will give you a five-thousand-dollar discount if you let me see those breasts of yours.”
The blonde grew red in the face. She started to speak, but he cut her off again.
“But wait, for you, a special price, ten thousand dollars to solve all of your problems if you strip naked in this office, right now. And I want you to know, that is a better deal than I gave your friend. Of course, you are free to reject my deal. But then I am afraid that, law-abiding citizen that I am, I would have to call the police and report such strange behavior.”