“No kidding,” Smoke said. “Remote control and all?”

“You bet. Gives satisfaction money can’t buy,” Bubba said.

“You must have quite a shop,” Smoke said.

“Had to add an addition to the garage. Everything from grove joint pliers to a DeVilbiss air compressor rated at 7.6 CFM at 40 PSI and 5.6 CFM at 90 to diagnostic tools like a Sunpro Sensor Probe so you can test manifold absolute pressure, mass air flow and vane air flow sensors.”

“Don’t need shit like that, and neither do you, Bubba,” Muskrat let him know. “At least I know how to use what I got.”

Muskrat replaced the door panel and got up. He climbed into the driver’s seat, started the engine and tested the window. It hummed up.

“Smooth as silk,” he proudly announced, wiping his hands on his pants.

“Gee, thanks,” Smoke said. “How much do I owe you?”

“The first time’s on the house,” Muskrat said.

“Gee. Thanks a lot,” Smoke said.

“Hey, the Gun and Knife Show’s coming in two weeks,” Bubba suddenly remembered. “Looking for a couple after-market clips, twenty rounds, for my new 92FS M9 Special Edition, finest military handgun in the world. Now that I gotta show you, Muskrat. Comes with pistol belt and holster, magazine pouch. Same thing used in Just Cause, Desert Storm, Desert Shield, Restore Hope, Joint Guard.”

“Do tell,” said Muskrat.

“I’m debating if I should’ve got the presentation case. Walnut, etched glass cover. And the walnut grips,” Bubba agonized.

“Wouldn’t be as practical if you ever plan to shoot it.”

“I sure as hell do. Winchester 115-grain Silvertip high-power.”

“How come you ain’t in school?” Muskrat asked Smoke.

“Free period. In fact, I gotta get back.”

Muskrat waited until Smoke was in his car, driving off.

“You notice that boy’s eyes?” Muskrat said. “Looked like he’d been drinking.”

“As if you and I didn’t at that age,” Bubba said. “So what d’ya think? This urethane hard enough yet?”

“Should be. But don’t get your hopes up.”

They used the air hose and spray bottle again. The leak was still there. Muskrat took his time studying the problem until he’d figured it out.

“You got a hairline crack in the roof line,” he said.

6

WEED REFUSED TO read his story, causing Mrs. Grannis to doubt that he had written one. This disappointed her greatly, and the other students in the class did not know what to think. Weed had always been so eager, the little boy-wonder in art class. Now, suddenly, he was uncommunicative and uncooperative, and the more Mrs. Grannis pressed him, the more obstinate he got. Finally, he was rude.

“Why I did the fish is my business,” he said, reaching under his desk for his knapsack.

“You had an assignment, just like everyone else,” Mrs. Grannis said firmly.

“No one else did a fish.” Weed looked up at the clock.

“That’s all the more reason we want to hear about yours,” Mrs. Grannis answered.

“Come on, Weed.”

“Read it to us.”