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“Do you remember anything else that might be significant about the morning before Moore’s death?”
Officer Moser had his pen poised above the blank notebook page in front of him.
Dalton shrugged and then gritted his teeth. A little Advil would go a long way right now. “No, nothing else comes to mind. I told you everything yesterday.” God, was it only yesterday? He felt like he’d aged forty years overnight.
“We noticed in the video you provided that the wing of Mr. Moore’s car appeared loose. I was told this is not the norm. That, in fact, it is exceedingly dangerous to have this happen. It is possible that the loose wing caused the accident, which caused Mr. Moore’s heart attack.”
There it was. The truth of the matter. That’s why they were back to talk to him. They found out about the wing.
Dalton immediately went on the defensive. “When the car was in the garage, it wasn’t loose. I guarantee it.”
Haas stared at him. “So… you contend that the wing came loose on its own?”
“No. I contend that someone loosened the screws on the wing before Moore’s car left the garage and they got looser and looser as the session went on.”
“I see. This leaves us with a problem. There’s no way to know what came first. Did Mr. Moore lose control and that caused him to have a heart attack? Or did he have a heart attack and lose control?” Detective Haas said. “It is a conundrum. One that will be hard, if not impossible, to solve. The issue then becomes… How did the wing get loose? Was it negligence on the part of your mechanic or was it just a fluke? Again, hard to prove.” He studied Dalton intently. “But not impossible.”
Dalton’s heart dropped to his knees. Detective Haas was going after him. After his team. His reputation would be shot for sure. This would be the end of Hughes Racing.
“Your mechanic, James Macht. I will need to speak to him again.”
“James did not make a mistake. He is an excellent mechanic.”
Detective Haas leaned back in his chair. “You seem very sure of this.”
“I am,” Dalton agreed.
“And yet the wing was…oscillating, I believe is the racing term. How do you explain that?”
“I don’t. That’s your job.” He’d had enough. He wasn’t putting up with this innuendo. This type of shit could and would kill his chances of keeping Hughes Racing alive. If Detective Haas wanted to do this, then he was going to make him work for every little bit of it.
Detective Haas’s mouth went flat. “I believe your insurance investigator is also asking questions. What has she found out? Did she know about the wing? I would think that would disqualify any kind of payout.”
Regret smashed into his chest like his head had smashed onto the pavement. He never should’ve agreed to let Greer stay. He should’ve been stronger and just said no. Now she was on Detective Haas’s radar. Where the hell was he going with this? “Not sure how that might be relevant to you.”
“If she noticed the wing issue, then she might not pay on your claim. That would make you quite upset since you’ve paid money for the policy. My understanding is you’re in dire need of some money, no?”
“What are you suggesting?” he demanded.
“I understand Ms. Styger was almost hit by a car this afternoon. Perhaps you had something to do with that?”
“What? Are you crazy? I pulled her out of the way. Why would I want to hurt Greer?”
“She could say no to your claim, and you’d lose the money. It’s my understanding you used to date. Perhaps there are bad feelings as well. Two birds with one stone, as they say.”
Dalton stared at Detective Haas. Who the hell had he been talking to that was filling his head with this shit? Claasen? He wanted to punch the detective’s face just for hinting that he would physically hurt Greer. He balled his hands into fists. “I did not try to hurt Greer. I was not driving the car.”
“Maybe you asked a friend to drive the car. Perhaps you thought if you saved Ms. Styger, she would be grateful and pay on the insurance claim anyway, overlooking the wing issue.”
Dalton wanted to throttle the man across from him. Haas was talking madness; blaming him for what happened and using the insurance money as a motive. “You are way out of line, Haas.” He jumped to his feet, ignoring the stabbing pain the motion caused. “I did not try to hurt Greer. James did not make a mistake with Moore’s car. If you’re trying to blame Moore’s death on someone, then you’d better start looking elsewhere because you’re screwing up your investigation.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the restaurant.
The sound of retreating footsteps on the stairs to his left made him look up. He missed whoever was there, but they’d been moving at a fast clip, almost at a run. He shook his head. He’d like to run. Pack up the cars and just go back to his office in Germany. He was done with this. Letting Greer get dragged into this was a new low. His desperation was so intense he’d let it blind him to what he should’ve done. He needed to come clean to everyone, tell the whole team about the wing and let the chips fall where they may. Greer had almost been hurt, or worse because he involved her in this mess.
* * *
“I involved myself,” Greer said twenty minutes later when they were standing in her hotel room. “It’s my job, and I’m staying to do it. I’ll go talk to Detective Haas and set him straight.”
“Don’t bother. He won’t listen at this point. He’ll just twist what you’re saying around. Greer, reach out to your boss and tell him everything. They’ll deny payment, and you can get out of here. I can’t stand to see you in danger. I couldn’t live with it if something happened to you.”
