Just showed you should go with the flow and not sweat the details so much. I mean, look at me now. Rolling out of town in a top-dollar SUV, thick wad of money in the bag at his feet. Hadn’t even stopped to count the money yet, but he knew it was plenty. He really wanted to go home, but he had to get the car out of sight so he could pop the plates and replace them, and there was no shelter in his mother’s yard. Best thing to do, even if he didn’t feel like it, was drive to Aunt Lucia’s house in Benson, make up a reason why he needed to put the car in her shed. He knew she’d fix him some food, and let him take a snooze in her house. Late afternoon, he’d call the guy at the feed store in Benson who had a little side business going in replacement plates. Julio, that was his name. And while he waited for Julio he could call Bernie Estes back in Tucson. Estes the Bestest he called himself, a counterfeiter working out of his house up on Princeton Road. Big phony in a lot of ways, but Hector had seen some of his work and knew it was good. So he’d paid a big deposit on a fake passport and visa, car registration and driver’s license. Gave Estes his picture and told him the name would come later. He’d intended to boost the car of his choice when the time came, but now that he had Ace’s SUV he’d tell Estes to make the records read Adolph Alvin Perkins, read him the numbers from the records he had right here in the car. How cool was that? He had Ace’s wallet and credit cards, too. Next thing he needed was a money belt, or maybe one of them armpit bags, for all the cash he’d be carrying. He chuckled a little, thinking about the cash. Damn, this was more like it, y’know?
