“Two that I know of: Torsten and Eddie.”
The notebook had been right. “Aren’t they all married, Mike?”
He shrugged. “Now they are. Torsten wasn’t at the time. Eddie might have been engaged. You know racing though.”
“Its own little world. Let me ask you something else. Zeke told me Wade’s attitude changed from one race to the next three years ago. Did you notice that, too? Did something happen at a race?”
Mike considered. “I’ve never told anyone about this, and I wouldn’t if Wade were still alive. But Zeke’s right, and I think I know why.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It was one night a couple days before a race, Mid-Ohio, I think. We didn’t have a team dinner, for once, so I went to the hotel bar for a beer. Wade was there, drunk. I’d never seen him even the slightest bit tipsy. But this….”
Mike shook his head and toyed with a pretzel. “He told me his father had just died. I expressed sympathy, and I’ll never forget his response. He said, ‘My father didn’t give a shit about me—but I didn’t care about him either. About the only thing that son of a bitch ever gave me was Huntington’s disease, which killed him and will kill me too someday. He always told me if I went into racing I’d never be great, and it dawned on me today, the asshole might have been right. This is as far as I’ll go, and I’ve got nothing else. Some success I am.’”
I blinked. “That’s so sad. What was the disease?”
“Huntington’s. I looked it up later. It’s a hereditary disease—incurable. The nerve cells in your brain waste away, and you have problems with motor skills, like walking or swallowing. Maybe end up with dementia. But get this, it can start with personality changes, like aggression or irritability. Even antisocial behaviors.”
“Makes you wonder if he’d gotten it already.”
“Exactly. And I wouldn’t have said anything, but I guess Wade needed to be sure, because the next day he threatened to ruin me in racing if I ever talked about it.”
“I don’t think he expected to be treated well. Though he didn’t treat others well, either.”
Mike threw the pretzel he’d been playing with on the table. “That’s when Wade got mean.”
“It sounds like the turning point. You’d never heard he had another career or backup plan to racing, right?”
“Nope.”
“He had to be scared and angry about the disease. Combine that with thinking he’d only met his father’s low expectations, and maybe that’s why he turned power-hungry and reckless on the track. Even vicious.”
“Was he all of that? I guess he was.”
A few silent moments later, Mike physically shook himself. “Enough of that, Kate! What’s new at the track today?” He reached for another handful of pretzels.
“They’re rebuilding our clutch and transmission. And brakes. Checking the ECU, again. Detective Jolley is still asking questions. Most of the paddock thinks I killed Wade to get his job. Those were the highlights.”
He started laughing.
“That’s funny, Mike?”
“Sure. You wouldn’t do that.”
“Maybe you can spread that around, because there’s a different opinion out there. It’s unnerving.”
“Ignore it. It’ll go away.”
“I hope so.”
He examined my face. “Rough for you?”
“I’m handling it.”
For the next few minutes, I entertained him with stories of Torsten and Andy’s track walk, the Purleys and Trimbles at the Sandham Swift paddock, and my interview with the Seventeen magazine dragon lady—particularly her effect on Tom. I was relaxed when Stuart appeared and for once I didn’t react to him by tensing up or anticipating his disapproval.
Mike hailed him. “Join us!”
I waved at an empty chair. “I was just filling Mike in on the scene at our paddock today: cars torn apart, the Purleys and the Trimbles all there at once.”
“Good evening, Mike, Kate.” Stuart sat and adjusted the knife-sharp creases in his trousers.
I turned to Mike. “What was it with the Trimbles and Wade, anyway? What started everything?”
Mike scratched his head. “The first thing I remember was Wade bringing Paul around a lot. Paul was already sponsoring the Series, but I think Wade wanted Paul to sponsor him individually—or our team? No, Wade wanted to run other races under the True Color banner, as well as in the ALMS.”
Stuart was frowning. I turned back to Mike. “But what happened?”
“Paul turned him down flat at the beginning of last season. Pissed Wade off something fierce. He badmouthed that guy for days.”
With that, Mike announced it was time to clean up for dinner. “Drive together, Kate? Stuart, you with us for dinner?” Since Stuart was at the Inn for another dinner, not with us, Mike and I agreed to meet in the car park at ten to seven.
I was turning to Stuart with a comment on the weather when it hit me—that’s what Paul had done to Wade. I realized my mouth was hanging open, and Stuart was looking at me oddly.
“Yes, Kate?”
“Aunt Tee and I were discussing Wade and Paul and Marcus Trimble earlier, how Wade’s behavior was about controlling Marcus to get back at Paul. But we couldn’t figure out what Paul had done—or what Wade thought he’d done—to make Wade angry enough to do that. It must have been Paul not sponsoring Wade.”
Stuart looked sour. That hadn’t taken long. “I can’t believe you’re asking questions about this.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t you hear Detective Jolley and me telling you to leave it alone? To stop asking questions?”
“He said to be careful—”
“What did you think that meant?!” Stuart shouted, his face red. He lowered the volume. “That meant stay out of it.”
I matched his glare. “Don’t even think about trying to tell me what to do. I’m not trying to piss you off, but give me a little credit. I’m doing this for a reason. I’m not an idiot.”
He settled back into his chair, spine rigid as always. He muttered something that sounded like, “Could’ve fooled me.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re doing a damn good imitation of one.”
“Shall we just get this out?”
He sat forward again. “Here’s the problem: you’re poking your nose into something you should stay out of. It’s murder, and someone out there is a murderer. You want to get in the middle of that? Some of us are trying to keep you safe, despite your asinine attempts to put yourself in danger.”
“Are you done?” I snarled. “Then listen up, you insufferable, patronizing ass. I get that it’s murder. I also know Jolley can’t get half the information from this carnival that an insider can. So I’m telling him what I know. And more than that….”
The fight left me, and I felt more tired than mad. “I’m trying to find the truth. To make sure being an innocent bystander doesn’t ruin my racing career. I’ve worked too hard to let that happen.”
Stuart took my hand, surprising me equally with the gesture and the kindness in his voice. “I’m sorry. You’re not an idiot. Just maybe too trusting. Be careful who you talk to and who you place your trust in.” He released my hand, cleared his throat, and sat back. “Many people care about you and don’t want to see you hurt. That’s not meant to be patronizing.”
I studied him: the small smile, the hands together, fingers steepled in front of his chest. No BS there. I grimaced at the taste of the apology I owed him. “Sorry about what I said.”
He waved a hand in the air. “I’m sure I can be insufferable and patronizing. Maybe it goes with the job.”
“And the ‘ass’ part?”
“Maybe that, too, but don’t push it.”
I laughed and
felt lighter. “I’m sorry anyway.”
“Maybe now you can get past the antagonism?”
“We probably both can.”
“Friends?”
“Friends.”
We sat for a minute or two in silence. “Kate, I don’t mean to pry, but I wanted to ask about something.”
“I may not answer.”
“Fair enough. James Reilly, our Frame Savings and Loan sponsor. Is he your father?”
I froze. That wasn’t what I’d expected at all.
“Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
I took a deep breath. “No. It’s OK. I will ask you to keep this to yourself.”
“Of course. I don’t idly gossip, Kate.”
“I know that. Did he—” I had to clear my throat. “Did he say something to you about me? To someone else?” I was in no mood to be claimed publicly by a long-lost deadbeat dad.
“Nothing like that. And I apologize for upsetting you. I saw him watching you on the television feed while you were driving and in the pits and paddock. Then I thought about your coloring and your names. I just wondered.”
“Between you, me, and the lamppost there, yes, he’s my father. But I’d never seen him before last year on the ALMS circuit. We’d never spoken until last year at the Road America weekend in Wisconsin.” I gave him the abbreviated story of my birth and explained that I’d been raised by my maternal grandparents.
“I know of Hank Patterson.”
I smiled. “Gramps.”
“A master of wiring, I hear.”
“You’ve never met him?”
“No. I’ve heard about him and his products from everyone, but he’d stopped traveling by the time I got involved with racing in the U.S.”
“Gramps is the greatest. He and my grandmother were all I knew until just recently.” I grimaced. “But just this evening I discovered several things I’d been told all my life were one way, are, in fact, the other.”
I answered the question on his face. “I’d always known—been told—that my father and his family wanted nothing to do with me, from day one. But that’s wrong. My father just gave me a photo of his father holding me as a newborn in the hospital. It’s hard to argue with a photo proving my grandfather was there—that he wanted to see me at least once.”
Stuart didn’t try to fill the silence with empty platitudes, which I appreciated. After a long pause, he asked, “What will you do next?”
“Ignore it and get through the weekend. Then talk to Grandmother about it. Ask her what she knows.”
“Will you talk to your father or his father about it?”
“His father just died. That’s why he gave me the photo. I suppose I’ll have to talk to my father eventually. But I can’t handle it now. Not this weekend.”
“I’m sorry for the family trouble, Kate. It sounds inadequate or useless, but if I can help at all, say the word.”
“Keeping my father out of my hair would be great.”
He smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I cleared my throat. “In the spirit of friendship, I should tell you something.”
Stuart raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, stop that. It’s something in Wade’s notebook.”
“You don’t have it, right?” Stuart went from calm to agitated in no time at all.
I held up a hand. “The police have it. I just…looked at it.” Once again, I didn’t mention the photocopies.
“You shouldn’t even be talking about it. This is a matter for only the police.”
I looked at him steadily until he fell silent. “I don’t have to tell you about this, Stuart. Now be quiet if you want to hear.”
He clamped his lips shut and sat back.
“One of the pages in Wade’s notebook had a list of team initials and what looks like username and password information. Holly and I—don’t give me that look. Holly double-checked what was listed for her team, and we think the list is login information for wireless networks. For all the teams using Delray ECUs.”
Stuart’s mouth made a perfect “o” of surprise. I drank down the last of my mineral water while his mental wheels turned.
I spoke again. “I can’t figure out why Wade had the information. We found other evidence of him blackmailing people—or trying to.”
“Hmmm,” Stuart murmured.
“Was he snooping on teams? So he could blackmail them with that data? But what else would he have done with it? I wish it all made sense.”
“Mmm, hmmm.”
“I guess I’ll see you later—”
Stuart held up a hand. “Kate, I’m going to share something with you, but I have to ask you to not say a word to anyone.”
“Sure.”
“It could be critical that you don’t, because your information may help us lay a trap for the person responsible for the problems the cars have had.”
“If he’s still alive?”
“Let me explain. We’ve narrowed down the problems to Delray ECUs. But the ECUs aren’t defective. They’re being actively interfered with from somewhere on the ground, in order to briefly disrupt engine power.”
“Which wouldn’t be a big deal on the straight, but in a turn….”
“Right. At the limit of adhesion, as in a corner, it can act like a brake on the rear wheels. As we’ve seen, it’s enough to break cars loose.”
I sifted through the little I knew about how ECUs collected car data for use by the team. “But the ALMS technical regulations—we can’t transmit to the cars, just receive.”
“By regulation, correct. But nothing in the technology itself prevents an unscrupulous team from transmitting to their car. Except if someone was cheating, we’d see their improvement and likely figure it out. But in the case of sabotage? There’s been no clear beneficiary so far. Until now, we couldn’t determine how our mystery saboteur connected to the ECU system. The existence of the list you’re describing tells me he’s connecting to the separate systems run by each team. I also believe the list you saw must have come from Delray Electronics itself.”
“But how? Who? Wade?”
Stuart shook his head. “What I know from Victor Delray is that their engineers never have access to information for all networks. I don’t think Victor was the leak. He seems too genuinely distressed at the blow to his company. For that matter, so does Trent.”
“Who’s Trent?”
“Trent Maeda, Victor’s number two at Delray. He’s been around this weekend—you’ve probably seen or met him? An Asian man, the only one here in an official capacity besides our two Japanese drivers.”
“I haven’t met him—wait! I forgot. I did see him. Yesterday morning, talking with Jim Siddons and a shaggy young guy in a SPEED shirt.”
Another “o” with his mouth. “Really?
“Come to think of it, they looked upset to have been seen.”
Stuart looked at his watch, then tapped it with a finger. “I need to confer with Victor this evening. And Detective Jolley. Perhaps we can set a trap tomorrow.”
“Stuart? Do you think Wade was part of it?”
“Hard to tell. You say he had incriminating information, but I agree with you, I’m not sure what he would have done with it. His car and team haven’t obviously benefited recently.”
“Mostly he wanted power. Stuart! The next page in Wade’s notebook had a list of names and initials—we think it was his blackmail list. On it were the words ‘JS/TM scam, my choices too.’ It must be Jim Siddons and Trent Maeda.”
“If Wade’s notes can be believed, that’s incriminating.”
“What do you think ‘my choices too’ means?”
“He was in on it? Choosing cars to be interfered with? I’m not sure, but Kate, this makes it even more imperat
ive: don’t say anything. And steer clear of those men.”
“Trust me on that.” I looked at my watch. Time to meet Mike. I stood up and offered Stuart my hand. “I’m glad we’ve reached a truce.”
He stood also, took my hand, and kissed my cheek. “It was past time for that.”
“Wait, Stuart? I heard Jim wasn’t here, but do you think Trent killed Wade? Because he had this information?”
“I expect Detective Jolley would tell us to leave the questions to the police.”
“I know. But if not him…who?”
“I don’t know, Kate. I wish I did.”
Chapter Thirty-four
Dinner that evening represented Jack’s efforts to strengthen relationships: we were wooing reps from two potential sponsors and making nice with our GM liaison, who supplied us with factory parts and support. The Purleys were also there, joining Jack, Tom, Mike, and me as the faces of the team. I sat between Mike and Tom.
Talk around the table centered on Jack’s thoughts for our chances in the race. After morning showers and afternoon sun, the evening had turned windy, with dramatic clouds scudding across the sky. We speculated on the possibility of rain the next day, and Mike offered input on handling. I kept quiet and listened.
The slowest eaters were finishing their main courses, and the conversation had fractured into pairs and trios talking, when Tom leaned close to me, resting his arm on the back of my chair and curving his body toward mine.
“I discovered something.” His voice was just above a whisper.
I spoke quietly as well. “About what?”
“Our main sponsors here.” He gave the slightest head twitch in the direction of the Purleys, seated at the end of the table.
“Really?”
“Jack pulled me aside this afternoon, and laid down the law. We get continued sponsorship if we make sure word goes no further about a relationship with Wade.”
“Hers?”
“Right. Hubby was irate that police questioned them—livid at the situation and at someone giving the cops the info.”
“Does he know it was us? Besides, you’re supposed to tell the cops the truth.”
Dead Man’s Switch Page 18
