No Right Turn

by A. J. Stewart

  “Of course. Top of the list. But he met Missy at a race meet. And young Angie? She was conceived in a team RV.”

  It was more information than I needed, and I think my expression conveyed that fact.

  “What I’m saying is, when something has been your life’s work, it’s hard to give it up. What’s he supposed to do? Take up gardening?”

  “He had a pretty nice car collection to tinker with.”

  Lees nodded. “All’s I’m saying is, Angie’s time will come. Yes, if you want to hear it, she should already be running everything here. She’s earned it. People respect her. The teams love her. She’s the best of her daddy and her momma all wrapped up in one, that’s for sure. But it ain’t about her being a woman. It’s about how hard it is for an old man to let go of all that defines him.”

  We watched the 29 car get covered up inside the trailer. It was treated with kid gloves. It reminded me of the delivery of Dale Beadman’s latest toy.

  “What do you know about the F-88?” I asked Lees.

  He looked around to see if anyone was listening. They were too busy to care. “Everything.”

  “You saw it, right?”

  “Twice. Once when I went to Michigan with Dale to view it, and then to inspect it before it was loaded onto the transport down to Palm Beach.”

  “You saw it being loaded?”

  “Of course.”

  “Dale wasn’t there.”

  “No. Just me and Rex.”

  “Rex, the truck driver.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Why you?”

  “I’m Dale’s head engineer. I’ve inspected every one of his cars before he bought them.”

  “Why wasn’t he there?”

  “He had a race meet.”

  “And you didn’t.”

  “No. I don’t go to many races, anymore. I’m not part of one of the teams. My role is here, in the workshop.”

  “So you went to Michigan?”

  “I did. Flew in, drove up to the barn, watched it get loaded, watched the escrow happen and then watched Rex drive away. Then I drove back to the airport and flew back here. All in a day.”

  “How about this guy, Rex? You trust him?”

  “You suggesting Rex took the car?”

  “I’m canvassing every possibility.”

  “Dale said there’s video of Rex delivering the car to his garage.”

  “There’s video of Rex delivering a car.”

  “It’s a pretty distinctive vehicle.”

  That was true. It was a one-off. Or maybe a two-off.

  “Rex didn’t take the car,” said Lees.

  “How do you know?”

  “He’s been with us since the beginning.”

  “Crimes are often perpetrated by people close to the victim.”

  “I mean he’s been with us since right at the beginning. He’s been with Dale and Missy before they were anything.”

  “So why’s he just a truck driver?”

  Lees suddenly looked uncomfortable. I felt like I’d hit a nerve, which in my business was a good thing to do.

  “Look, Rex was a driver, back in the day. A teammate. But some guys are cut out for that side of things and some guys are not. He loved to drive, though. Hell, he even raced trucks at one point. So he took on the job of moving the cars from track to track. He had a perfect record. Never missed a deadline, never missed a meet. No speeding tickets, no fines, no nothing. He’s one of us. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt Dale and Missy. I personally guarantee it.”

  “So he’s driving this truck here?” I nodded at the truck that was closing up before us.

  “No. He doesn’t do the races anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “Like I said, Mr. Jones. It’s a young man’s game. Rex now handles local work. He’s on my team. He gets the development vehicles to where I need them to be. We’re moving them today, as it happens.”

  “Moving them where?”

  “To the speedway. In Charlotte. We’ve rented track time. The development team will be down there after the race teams are away.”

  Lees looked at me and then at Lucas.

  “You boys want to come for a ride in a stock car?”

  Lucas nearly had a heart attack.

  Chapter Twenty

  We let Simon Lees go and do his job and we watched the two team trucks gobble up the cars and close up and pull out, destined for Darlington. I wasn’t sure why they were leaving so early, but there was plenty I didn’t know about this stuff. After the frantic action of the trucks, the workshop fell back into its quiet rhythm. Guys tinkered with engines and fabricated parts. A guy Lucas recognized as one of the team drivers arrived. There was no fanfare. A few nods and greetings, but otherwise he was just one of the guys. He was in the same polo shirt as everyone else. He climbed the steps to an upstairs room, where we were told he was going to be analyzing video of past Darlington races with his crew chief. I could relate to that. I’d watched my fair share of tape. Analyzing the opposition, figuring out how to stop them, how they were going to try to stop us. Searching for that elusive edge.

  An hour later Simon Lees found us and directed us outside. A third semitrailer was at a workshop door, this one on the far end of the building. I noted the billboard-like side of the trailer, a giant promotion for Dale Beadman Racing and a soda that I never drank. A couple race cars were loaded into the trailer and then the development team got into a series of pickups and headed away. Lees offered Lucas and me a ride to the track.

  “Is that Rex?” I asked Lees, gesturing at the driver closing up the vehicle transporter.

  “Yup, that’s him.”

  “Maybe I’ll take a ride with him. Does he know about the cars going missing?”

  “Like I told you, Mr. Jones, he’s been with us forever. He knows.”

  I left Lucas and Simon Lees and jogged across the lot to the big rig. Rex Jennings was striding around the trailer doing checks of some kind to make sure everything was squared away. I usually just patted my pockets to make sure I had my keys.

  “Rex Jennings,” I said.

  “That’s me,” he said.

  “Miami Jones,” I said. “I’m helping Dale with, you know. . .”

  “I know who you are.” His voice was deep like a baritone and he had the shaven haircut of a drill sergeant.

  “Mind if I get a ride with you to the track? Mr. Lees said we could come along.”

  “Sure, no problem. Jump on up.”

  We climbed up into the cabin and Rex fired up the truck. The entire thing shuddered and then let out a horrendous groan and hiss, and then we started moving. I was convinced we were going to take out every pole, streetlight and canvas awning that we turned past. But Rex wound us out onto the freeway with practiced ease.

  “I hear you’ve known Dale for a long time.”

  “That I have. We drove karts together when we were young ’uns.”

  “You didn’t get into the NASCAR thing?”

  “What do you think I do for a living, Miami?”

  “I mean the driving.”

  “Same question.”

  He was a sharp tack. “Race driving.”

  He closed his eyes like a tired cat and then slowly opened them again. “I raced for a while. But not everyone’s made to be a champion. You know what I mean?”

  “Sure.”

  “Dale has gifts that I never had. He’s fearless.”

  “Not you?”

  “Not most people. Most of us care too much. About what other people think, about what might happen if we do this or do that. So we don’t do anything, all out of fear. You know what I mean?”

  “Yeah, I do. So you’ve always been part of the development side?”

  “No,” he said. Rex clunked down hard on the gear stick and pushed the truck up to fifty-five. “I drove the rig for Dale for years. When he was a driver and then when he was crew chief.”

  “So you carried 29 from track to track.”
r />   “That’s right.”

  “A lot of miles.”

  “Millions.”

  “You enjoy it?”

  “Loved it. Mostly.”

  “So tell me, why did the trucks leave so early? The rest of the crew didn’t look in any hurry to get to Darlington.”

  “That’s not early, it’s late. I’d normally have been hell and gone by now. But Darlington’s close. See, it’s the rig driver’s job to get to the track first. I’d get there, unload some of the equipment, get the truck set up so the crew could just come in and get to work. Then when it’s done, we’d pack her up and I’d head out Sunday night. Depending on the race, I’d get back here in Charlotte late Monday, early Tuesday. Late Tuesday if I was coming from California.”

  “You drove to California? Aren’t there like laws on how long you can drive for?”

  “Oh, yeah. They’re real serious about that, too. The Cali trips we’d split rig. I’d drive halfway with a co-driver and meet another rig in Oklahoma City, and we’d swap the trailer and he’d take her out to Cali. We’d wait in OKC until they came back. Some years we’d even head from there straight to Michigan.”

  “That’s some serious driving.”

  “Yup. Even the good weeks we’d be home late Monday and gone Wednesday.”

  “But you don’t do that anymore?”

  “No. Winning comes at a cost, you know? For everybody. I spent a lot of time away. I got to be part of a great team of guys and gals. We won races, we won championships. Hell of a life. But there’s always a cost. For everyone.”

  I waited for him to say something more, but he focused on the road.

  “Why did you give it up?” I asked, although I already knew.

  “You hear what I’m saying? You know what you lose when you got a family you never see? A daughter who don’t know you? A son who you never see play baseball?”

  I shook my head. But I knew.

  “You lose ’em. Plain and simple.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Rex shrugged. “Ain’t your fault.”

  “I didn’t mean that.”

  “It’s my fault. I made my choice. You know? Ain’t no one ever held a gun to my head. Sometimes wish someone hadda.” He glanced at me. “You got a wife?”

  “No,” I said. “I’m engaged.”

  “Love of your life or you just tired of being alone?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t mean nothing by it. Either reason’s an okay reason to be with someone, far as I can tell.”

  “Love of my life. No doubt.”

  He nodded. “Me, too. Two loves. The road and my wife. Until one hit the other.” He snorted. “Sounds like a damned country song, don’t it?”

  I said nothing.

  “Winning has a price,” he said again, but I didn’t think he was talking to me this time. “For me, for Dale, for everybody. You, too.”

  I waited a couple miles before I spoke again. “So now you stay local?”

  He nodded. “Yup. Gave up the long haul when my wife told me she was leaving for Boulder. We tried for a while, but even though she was here, she was already gone. And now I’m an old guy, you know? My back don’t take too kindly to sleeping in cheap motels or the back of the rig. So Dale said I should drive for the development team.”

  “Doesn’t seem so bad.”

  “It’s fine. They’re good boys. And I’ve known Simon forever, too.”

  “But you picked up the F-88 in Detroit?”

  “Outside of Lansing.”

  “Right. That’s a long drive.”

  “Just a favor for Dale. He wanted someone with his best interests at heart.”

  “So what happened? You collected the car in a barn?”

  He stayed silent as he pulled the rig onto the off-ramp from I-85. Across the freeway, I could see Charlotte Motor Speedway. It was in the middle of open fields and there was nothing around it. It looked as big as Palm Beach International Airport.

  “Yeah, in a damned barn. Simon was there, he checked it all over, and then we wheeled her up into the trailer and that was that.”

  “You didn’t open it again until you got to Palm Beach?”

  “Nope. I unlocked her at Dale and Missy’s place and rolled the car into its little room, and then I left.”

  “Before the hurricane.”

  “Yep. No desire to hang out in a hurricane.”

  “How did you get off the island?”

  He looked like he was thinking about this. “The one bridge was out. So the next bridge. Got on I-95 and got going.”

  “Straight through? Long drive.”

  “If I recall, I got gas leaving West Palm Beach and then stopped outside of Savannah for a coffee.”

  “Cracker Barrel?”

  “Nah. Fuelex. Always Fuelex.”

  Rex pulled the truck in through the gates to the racetrack. The guard at the gate waved and Rex waved back through his open window.

  “You’re an expert on moving cars, Rex. If it were you, how would you move eleven cars out of Dale’s garage and off an island during a hurricane?”

  “If I was into grand theft auto, Miami, I’d be the getaway driver, not the brains behind the operation.”

  I smiled. “Me, too.”

  “Then my suggestion to you is to go home to the brains behind your operation and never let her go.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The crew was already in place as we pulled into the garage area. Rex killed the engine with a sound like a dragon sighing and jumped down from the cabin. He unlocked the trailer like he’d done it a thousand times, which I realized might literally have been true. Then he took the same controls I’d seen him use in the security video and he dropped the rear of the truck into a ramp. The crew strode up into the trailer and unhitched the cars and rolled them down into the garage. It was then that I noticed the big difference between these cars and those that had been taken away to Darlington. They were the same basic size and the same basic shape. They were Beadman green and had the logo for the soda I didn’t drink on the hood. But neither car had a number on them. Not on the hood, not on the door. The sides of both vehicles were covered by the DBR logo and the word Chevrolet.

  Lucas was standing with Simon Lees under a popup shade. Lees was setting up a computer and another guy was working with a two-way radio.

  “How’s your truck driver?” Lucas asked.

  “Let’s just say that truck drivers are a lot more emotionally aware than they were when I was a boy.”

  “Did he do it?”

  “Not unless he’s a better actor than he is a trucker.”

  “Cary Grant was a truck driver, did you know that?”

  “I did not.”

  “And he was a good actor.”

  “I don’t think Rex is Cary Grant.”

  I watched the crew moving around the cars like there was a race about to start. “They’re getting busy,” I said.

  “Time is money,” said Lees. “Renting a race track isn’t cheap.”

  “Why do it?”

  “NASCAR rules don’t allow for much in the way of telemetry. That’s computer systems that send diagnostic information back from the car. They like to keep it basic. Man-and-car type stuff. Most telemetry you see on TV is exactly that, there for the networks, not for us. So off-circuit testing allows us to use telemetry to track incremental changes in our engine designs. So, you guys ready to ride?”

  Lucas was born ready. I wasn’t so sure. “I thought NASCARs only had one seat.”

  “They do, in race config. But these are development cars. We also use them for sponsor events. We can put a passenger seat in there nice and easy.”

  “Don’t go to any trouble,” I said.

  “Ready to go, boss,” called one of the crew.

  “No trouble,” said Lees. “It’s ready. Now if you’ll go in the truck, the guys will get you suited up.”

  Lucas practically ran up into the truck. I took my time. We stripped
down and then put on fireproof suits and balaclavas. I was given a pair of boots that were a touch too big and a pair of gloves that were a touch too small.

  I was led out to one of the cars, where a similarly dressed guy stood waiting. He was chisel-jawed and had movie star stubble.

  “Mike Walters,” he said.

  “Miami Jones. You driving?”

  “Unless y-y-you want a go.”

  “No, you’re the pro.”

  “Smart choice. First time?” he asked, nodding at the car.

  “Yep.”

  “It’s loud so feel free to scream.”

  That was what I wanted to hear.

  “Let’s get in,” he said.

  Mike climbed in through where the window should have been. My side was a little more conventional. One of the crew put his arm in through the window space and opened the door from the outside, and I realized there were no latches on the outside. Probably an aerodynamic thing. The guy told me to keep my helmet off until they were finished setting up the telemetry. I squeezed myself into the seat. It was roomy enough. There was no dashboard to speak of, no glove compartment. There was no leather interior or stereo system. There were thick roll bars and a bare steel floor. The seat was contoured and wrapped around me like a bear hug. The crew guy strapped me in so tight I thought I was ready for an Apollo mission. Which made me think of Apollo 13. Which made me swallow hard.

  “I didn’t know we had sponsors today,” said Mike. He choked a little on the word sponsors.

  I turned to him and noticed that there was no steering wheel in front him. “I’m not a sponsor. I’m doing some work for Dale.”

  “That explains it. You know Dale well?” he asked.

  “Not really, you?”

  “Twen-twenty-five years.”

  “You always driven for him?”

  He nodded. “Used to race.”

  “Tough game.”

  “Ye-yep. The sponsor bit was th-the bit I hated.”

  “I imagine that would be my downfall, too. A lot of shaking hands and kissing babies.”

  He nodded. “Constant. No sponsors, no team. And th-the drivers are the faces of the teams. You spend less time driving than y-y-you do doing appearances.”

  “Everybody wants their piece of you.”