A.G.E's Joint

Eddie’s is gone. The place where wayward bound gearheads turned wrenches on hoopties. Gone to the whims of commercial development. Oh, it had to happen. After all, Eddie himself passed on to the great car show in the sky a few years ago. And the wives of would be mechanics and racers were relieved. You see, there’s no such thing as fun for the whole family, you know.      We spent our weekends in friends’ carports, 12 packs and parts scattered next to our rusted out hulks. We pounded and cussed at cranky bolts. Screamed when flames erupted out of throttles. Car virgins getting their first hot oil baths were always good for laughs. It was a simpler time. There were no OBD codes to figure out. Engine bays had room to work. A universal joint elbow was rarely required to get to a key bolt. Stuff was done out of pure obsessiveness, some cosmetic, most mechanical. It was how you got to the top of the street pecking order cruisin’ down Roswell Road. ...

Thirty Six hours into the 1st 48, Sgts. Farthing and Sullens are no closer to closing the homicide case of Ronald Duck, found in a heap on Beale St. Sullens puts in a call to Lt. Slezak, head of the Vice squad, asking if he was aware of anyone fitting the description of the suspect. They do a check in the records and come up with a couple of possible suspects.  One of them goes by the street name Age.  He's known to spend time in blues clubs and in the casinos down in Mississippi. Sullens looks him up in the database. Christopher Mitchell, also known as A.G.E. is a former government employee with prior misdemeanor convictions for shoplifting adult toys and solicitation.  Originally from Georgia, he has been in the Memphis are for the last several years, drifting in and out of homelessness.   Slezak provides Sullens with the last known address.  "There's the Big Bad Wolf. Hmmm.....Active warrants for Lewd Behavior.  Oh, he drives a taxi....