Bloodline Sidney Sheldon

Chief Ferraro said to Elizabeth soothingly, “I can understand how in your condition it could—”

“Just a moment,” Alec interrupted. He turned to the mechanic. “Isn’t it possible that those links were cut and then replaced or that someone drained the brake fluid and then filled it again?”

The mechanic shook his head stubbornly. “Mister, those links ain’t been touched.” He took his rag again and carefully wiped off the oil around the nut that held the brake fluid. “See this nut? If anyone had loosened it, there’d be fresh wrench marks on it. I’ll guarantee that no one’s touched it in the last six months. There’s not a thing wrong with these brakes. I’ll show you.”

He walked over to the wall and pulled a switch. There was a whirring sound and the hydraulic lift began to lower the Jeep to the floor. They watched as the mechanic got in it, started the engine and backed the Jeep up. When it was touching the back wall, he put the Jeep in first gear and pressed down on the accelerator. The car raced toward Detective Campagna. Elizabeth opened her mouth to scream, and at that instant the Jeep jerked to a stop an inch away from him. The mechanic ignored the look the detective gave him and said, “See? These brakes are perfect.”

They were all looking at Elizabeth now, and she knew what they were thinking. But that did not change the terror of that ride down the mountain. She could feel her foot pressing on the brakes, and nothing happening. Yet the police mechanic had proved that they worked. Unless he was in on it. And that meant the Chief of Police probably knew too. I’m becoming paranoiac, Elizabeth thought.

Alec said helplessly, “Elizabeth—”

“When I drove that Jeep, those brakes were not working.”

Alec studied her for a moment, then said to the mechanic, “Let’s suppose that someone did arrange it so that the brakes on this Jeep wouldn’t work. How else could it have been done?”

Detective Campagna spoke up. “They could have wet the brake lining.”

Elizabeth could feel an excitement stirring in her. “What would happen if they did that?”

Detective Campagna said, “When the brake lining pressed against the drum, it would have no traction.”

The mechanic nodded. “He’s right. The only thing is—” He turned to Elizabeth. “Were your brakes working when you started driving?”

Elizabeth remembered using the brakes to back out of the carport, and braking again later when she came to the first curves. “Yes,” she said, “they were working.”

“There’s your answer,” the mechanic said triumphantly. “Your brakes got wet in the rain.”

“Hold on,” Alec objected. “Why couldn’t someone have wet them before she started?”

“Because,” the mechanic said patiently, “lf anyone had wet them before she started, she wouldn’ta had no brakes at all.”

The Chief of Police turned to Elizabeth. “Rain can be dangerous, Miss Roffe. Particularly on these narrow mountain roads. This sort of thing happens all too often.”

Alec was watching Elizabeth, not knowing what to do next. She felt like a fool. It had been an accident after all. She wanted to get out of here. She looked at the Chief of Polce. “I—I’m sorry to have put you to all this trouble.”

“Please. It is a pleasure. I mean—I am distressed about the circumstances, but it is always a pleasure to be of service. Detective Campagna will drive you back to your villa.”

 

 

Alec said to her. “If you don’t mind my saying so, old girl, you look ghastly. Now, I want you to hop into your bed and stay there for a few days. I’ll order some groceries by telephone.”

“If I stay in bed, who’s going to cook?”

“I am,” Alec declared.

That evening he prepared dinner and served it to Elizabeth in bed.

“I’m afraid I’m not a very good cook,” he said cheerfully, as he set a tray down in front of Elizabeth.

It was the understatement of the year, Elizabeth thought. Alec was a terrible cook. Every dish was either burned, underdone or oversalted. But she managed to eat, partly because she was starving, and partly because she did not want to hurt Alec’s feelings. He sat with her, making cheerful small talk. Not a word about what a fool she had made of herself at the police garage. She loved him for it.