“In the flesh,” said Del Rios. “The metal. It didn’t mean much to me, I didn’t care about cars, still don’t, but Eddie was excited, going on about not just a Duesenberg but one with the big chrome supercharger pipes coming out of the side, apparently that’s a big deal. He informs me this is the greatest car ever built, they were rare to begin with, twenty years later they’re a treasure. He tells me a car like that would’ve cost more new than the house did, he’s wondering how the tenant could have that kind of money, his best guess is she’s got a rich boyfriend. Then he blushes, shuts his mouth, remembering he’s a priest, no more gossip. I laughed like hell, told him he should get himself a hot rod on the sly, it bothers him he can confess about it. Meanwhile he can lay rubber right in front of the church, worst case the cardinal has a stroke. He laughed, we had our lunch, end of topic. Okay?”

“Female tenant.”

“That’s what he said,” said Del Rios. “She. A woman fits with a baby. A rich boyfriend fits with an unwanted baby. What do you think, son?”

“I think, sir, that you’re still at the top of your game.”

“Always have been. Okay, good, now you have to get out of here, got a hot date and at my age getting ready is a production.”

CHAPTER
7

As I drove back to the city, Milo called a DMV supervisor to find out how far back car registrations ran.

“Inactive records are deleted after a few months, Lieutenant.”

“What about paper archives?”

“Nothing like that, sir.”

“No warehouse in Sacramento?”

“No such thing, Lieutenant. What exactly are you looking for?”

Milo told her.

She said, “With a subpoena, we could give you a list of currently registered Duesenbergs. That German?”

“American,” he said.

“Really? I lived in Detroit, never heard of them.”

“They haven’t been manufactured for a long time.”

“Oh,” said the supervisor. “A historical vehicle. Would a list of current regs help?”

“Probably not, but if it’s all I can get, I’ll settle.”

“Send me the proper paper and it’s all yours, Lieutenant.”

He hung up. I said, “Auburn, Indiana.”

“What about it?”

“It’s where Duesenbergs were built. Back in the day, cars were manufactured all over the country.”

“My home state,” he said. “Never knew that. Never saw anything exotic.”

“You wouldn’t unless you had rich friends. When Duesenbergs came out, they cost the equivalent of a million bucks and Father Eddie was right, they’re prime candidates for the greatest car ever made. We’re talking massive power, gorgeous custom coachwork, every screw hand-fashioned.”

“Listen to you, amigo. What, you were once a gear-head?”