“Yes, they are. Especially this one,” David said, going over to the third car in the row. “It’s a 1951 Rolls-Royce Phantom IV.”

Joanna studied the car. Vibrant red in color, with wide whitewall tires and polished chrome trim, it was indeed vintage and pristine, but she couldn’t see anything distinctive about it. “What makes this one so special?”

“It was only ever sold to royalty or heads of state. Only eighteen were ever made.”

“Wow,” Joanna said, looking at the car again. “So how’d it get here?”

“One was sold to a chap in India. There was an agreement stating he could never sell the car, but when he died, his wife did just that. To a hotel in the States.”

“A hotel?”

“Yes, apparently they used it to chauffeur their guests, but the story goes that the boot was so small it wasn’t practical to use the car for the purpose for which it was bought, so it was sold to someone else. Mr. Kane was trying to collect every Phantom model there was, and when he found out there was a Phantom IV available, he tracked it down and bought it sight unseen. When it was delivered, it was in horrible condition—”

“How do you know all of this?”

“Oh, when George and I were hired, we made a point of ringing up the previous chauffeurs and mechanics to get all the information on the cars. Between what they told us, the repair records, and our own research, we know almost everything there is to know about these babies.”

“Babies?”

“Sorry,” David said, dipping his chin slightly as his face began to redden. “I’m a bit of a car fanatic.”

“I’d think you’d have to be to work on these,” Joanna said, looking around the garage.

“Shall I continue?”

“Yes, please.”

Slowly sauntering down the row, Joanna peeked in windows and carefully opened doors to peer inside, while David rattled off all the pertinent information on the Rolls and Bentleys lined up side-by-side. The oldest was a 1920 Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost, and the newest, a 1972 Phantom VI, but out of all the cars she had seen so far, Joanna’s favorite was the 1936 Brooklands Bentley. Classically gangster in style, the two-toned paint in beige and chocolate brown seemed to add to the automobile’s vintage. The spare tire sat at the ready, mounted on the running board, and when she opened the suicide doors, she breathed in the scent of leather and wood polish.

“This is incredible,” she said, looking back at David. “Does it come with a Tommy Gun?”

“You like old movies, too. I see,” David said with a grin.

“Actually, my dad does,” Joanna said as she stood straight and closed the doors. “He’d love to see this.”

“Then we’ll have to arrange a way to bring him down here. I’m sure George and I can figure out something. We love talking about the cars.”