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“Was racing something Mr. Moore was looking forward to like Brian said?”
Lyle grunted. “Not so much. I mean, he liked racing, but both Don and I were really surprised he agreed to do a whole season. We thought he would end up doing a race or two, and that would be it.”
Don nodded. “I think he did it because he was always telling Brian he had to learn to follow through on things, and Brian called him out on it. So, he chose racing to prove his point.”
Greer wrote some notes and then took a sip of coffee and savored it on her tongue. It tasted like heaven. “Was that the only thing that surprised you about Mr. Moore’s behavior lately?”
Bainbridge and Lyle exchanged a look.
“No,” Lyle said. “We were both shocked when he married Claire.”
“I still have no idea why he did it,” Bainbridge added. “I mean, he liked Claire, but I never thought he was mad about her or anything. She was just another in a long line of temporary girlfriends.”
Lyle confessed, “I often wondered if she didn’t have something on him. It was the only thing I could think of that would make him marry her.”
Greer was going to have to speak with Mrs. Moore for sure now. “Any idea about the health issues? I get the impression that was a surprise.”
“A complete surprise. We didn’t know a thing about it,” Lyle confirmed. “And that wasn’t like Dennis. He always told us stuff. Except lately. We have no idea what changed.”
“Did you know about the new will?”
Bainbridge shook his head. “No idea.”
Lyle shrugged again. “You just never knew what was going on with Dennis these days.”
Bainbridge glanced at his friend but said nothing.
The sound of air guns pierced the air. The garage was alive with movement and sound. The smell of grease with an undertone of coffee filled her nostrils. It was hard to be here and not be distracted.
She glanced down at her notes. “I think that’s it for the moment, gentlemen. If I have any more questions, I’ll reach out. If you can think of anything else that might help, please contact me.” She handed them each a business card and silently prayed they didn’t use them.
The men tucked the cards in their pockets, stood up, and pulled their coats around them before heading out into the rain.
“I don’t like this.” Dalton’s voice carried over the sounds of the air guns.
She braced herself as she swung one leg until she was straddling the bench and turned to face him. “It’s not about what you like,” she pointed out. She didn’t want to discuss this with him here.
Hard gray eyes coldly held her gaze. He’d crossed his arms over his chest, drawing his sweater tight over his biceps. It was inconvenient how she noticed details like that when she should be paying attention to what he was saying.
She let out a long sigh and sipped her coffee. “I know this is…weird, but this is the way it works. I have to investigate, and then I can file a report and you get your money. I know you would prefer someone else, but there is no one else in my office that can do it.”
“This is a bad idea,” he repeated. “I need you to go. Tell them to send someone from some other office.”
“No,” she said, surprising herself. He was right—this was a bad idea—but she wasn’t leaving. She had a job to do, and she was going to do it. “I’m staying. Get used to it. Hopefully, I won’t be here long. I need to finish speaking to people, and then I’m gone. The sooner I get it done, the sooner I can leave.”
Dalton dropped his arms in defeat and turned to the counter. “This—just—isn’t—” He hit the button on the coffee maker again. Over his shoulder, he fixed her with a stare.
“Just isn’t what?” she demanded. “Easy? No shit. But I seem to recall someone telling me the best things in life rarely are.” She glared back at him. He used to tell her that all the time when she’d had a bad day at the track.
He grabbed his coffee and cursed. Then he sat down opposite her, straddling the bench as she was. “I’ll make you a deal.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “What kind of deal?” His scent swirled around her as he leaned forward. How could she still be so aware of this man after everything that had happened? She had an intense longing to hug him. To be crushed against his chest like he used to do when she was upset. His close proximity was messing with her, mentally and physically. She needed distance so she could focus, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to move.
“I’ll help you interview everyone so you can leave by the end of the day. If you need anything else, you can do it over the phone.”
She shook her head. “That’s not how this works. I need to complete my investigation my way, or I can’t file the report.” That wasn’t strictly true, but she wasn’t giving in on this one. She needed to be here, to face up to her past, and he was just going to have to suck it up.
He swore again and stared at her. There was more he wanted to say—she could sense it—but he clamped his lips together. Finally, he said, “Greer, this is stupid. You need… I’d like you to go.”
