Motor Mouth

mutilation of a dead guy! I didn’t want to add to the list.
    “It would be good if we had permission,” I said to Hooker.
    “I’ll call Bingo,” Hooker said. “It shouldn’t be a problem. The car is trash anyway.”
    Bingo is Nick’s crew chief. He has three terrific kids, and a nice wife, and he was probably at the breakfast table eating leftover pumpkin pie.
    I saved my computer program and swiveled in my seat, waiting for Hooker to get off the phone.
    “Bingo wants to be here when you tear the car down,” Hooker said.
    “No he doesn’t. He has a family, and he doesn’t want to be part of this. Tell him if we find something, we’ll tell him when it’s safe for him to know.”
    By noon I was fairly certain there wasn’t a second chip. Either it had been removed, or for some reason it wasn’t part of the program.
    Hooker was helping with the cleanup. “Most drivers know about cars,” he said, wiping down a wrench. “I pretty much only know about driving. I can change the oil, I know the language, and I know some engineering, but I can’t rebuild a carburetor. Didn’t have an aversion to it, just never got around to it. I’d drive, and the guys I hung out with would drink beer. And then they’d fix my car, and
I’d
drink beer.”
    “You had a division of labor.”
    Hooker grinned. “Yeah. We were all specialists.”
    I wrestled the last tire back onto the car and tightened the lug nuts. “I love everything mechanical. I’ve been working with cars for as long as I can remember. I like the way they fit together. I like the way they sound, and the way they smell. I like the challenge of getting all the parts to work efficiently. I love my job in R and D, but sometimes I miss working in my dad’s garage.”
    “Why do you suppose Shrin’s car didn’t have the second chip?”
    I jacked the car down. “I don’t know. I guess someone could have removed it, but that would mean there was a third Stiller employee involved, and I find that hard to believe. The car was immediately loaded into the truck by its crew, so I doubt Horse or Baldy had access. I’m guessing that for whatever reason, the second chip wasn’t needed.
    “I’m meeting Steven at four o’clock. I’m hoping he can tell me something interesting. And this time let’s remember to bring the remote. I thought it might be helpful if we took it with us for Steven to see.”
     
    “This is
very
interesting,” Sikulski said, studying the new chip. “This is diabolical. It looks to me like this little gem self-destructed.”
    He had all three chips under magnification and the guts of the remote exposed. He turned his attention to the chip I’d taken off the 69 engine.
    “The two chips appear to be similar. Same size and same materials used in construction,” he said. “They’re both too damaged to get a good read on the circuitry. Do you see this little bump right here on the original engine chip? I suspect this is the self-destruct charge. It wasn’t activated. The remote you brought doesn’t talk to this chip. I could probably blow the charge manually, but it will melt what remains, and probably you don’t want to do that just yet.”
    We left Steven with more questions than answers and couldn’t find much to say on the ride back to Huntersville.
    “Would you feel safer at my house?” Hooker asked.
    “Yes, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
    He dropped me at my door and rolled away. I trudged upstairs and went to my desk to catch up on e-mail. A little after seven I took a break and looked out the window at Topper’s. Everyone was back from the holiday and the bar was filling up. I suspected Spanky would be there tonight to bask in his glory. It was the place Hooker would most like not to be, but I thought a Spanky spectacle held some potential. At the very least it was a diversion from my dead-end thoughts.
    I swiped on some mascara and lip gloss, gave my hair a shot of hair spray, sashayed across the street to Topper’s, and claimed the bar stool next to my upstairs neighbor Dan.
    “Has he come in yet?” I asked.
    “Spanky? No. He’s waiting to make an entrance. He’ll be in around eight when he knows the place will be packed. Did you come to see the show?”
    “I thought it might be fun.”
    “It’s going to be painful. I had to get shit-faced before I could write the story for the last race. I can’t believe this guy won. There’s no justice in this world. I swear, halfway through the