The car died three blocks from the shop.

I managed to coast into the empty bay just as the engine gave a final, rattling cough. The sign on the door said Hale Auto – Closed, but the side light was still on and the big bay door stood half open. I stepped out into the cooling evening air and called into the garage.

“Hello? Anyone still here?”

A man appeared from behind a raised truck, wiping his hands on a rag. Mid-forties. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark coveralls tied at the waist over a black T-shirt that clung to his chest. Grease stained his forearms. He looked at me, then at the...