CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
As I drive to Desert Star Used Cars, I find it hard to believe that it's only 10:15 on this beautiful Sunday morning.
Arriving at my destination, I find metal gates drawn across the entrance to a small lot that holds maybe twenty cars. There is a little building about as large as an old country outhouse that passes for the office. A note in the corner of the gate informs me that the owner of Desert Star Used Autos, one J.W. Benjamin, Jr., lives in the house that adjoins the lot on the east side.
The doorbell is broken, so I go to work pounding on the frame of the screen door. In a few seconds, I hear an upstairs window open and a voice demanding, "What's going on?"
I back off the porch into what passes for a yard, then look up into the face of one J.W. "Benny" Benj
