“I’m very sorry to hear that.”
“You need to explain what happened to our car. It was working fine before this. My wife said all she asked you guys todo was change the brake pads and now the check engine light is on, and we have all these issues!”
I inhale through my nose and let it out. Carlos did good work and I signed off on the job. I trust my mechanics and I also trust myself.
“Jimmy, the logbooks?” I stretch out a hand without removing my gaze from the couple.
Jimmy sets the book in my upturned palm.
“Mr….” I arch a brow.
“Derwin.”
“Mr. Derwin. We do a scan on each car that comes in, every time it comes in. So we’ll need to do another scan to be sure, but I have a suspicion about what happened.”
I flip open the page. “Here it is. We flagged a problem with the trouble codes and told your wife that we recommended changing the wiring for the ABS wheel speed sensor—that’s the anti-lock braking system—for both rear wheels.”
The man grunts.
“Your wife expressed that you didn’t have the funds to address the issue and she asked us to only adjust the brake pads. We warned her that we’d need to move that part in order to reach the brakes and thus it could be further compromised. She signed off on it. Is that right, ma’am?”
I stare at the woman as calmly as I can despite my racing heart.
“Yes, I… uh, technically. Yes.” She darts a quick, nervous look at her husband.
Mr. Derwin’s eyes bulge. In a burst, he yells at me, “You deceived my wife into signing something, but that doesn’t mean you’re innocent. You said it yourself. You removed a part of our car to get to the brakes and that’s when you broke it!”
Carlos hustles back into view with his tablet in hand.
I divert my attention to him.
“It’s the ABS wheel speed sensor wiring,” he says in a low voice.
“Mr. Derwin, the mechanic just confirmed that the issue was, indeed, the compromised brake sensor wires. If you look here,” I try to show him my book, “this was outlined in the original scan. Which means your car had this problembeforeyour wife brought it in.”
He throws his hands up, refusing to look at the book. “I don’t believe you explained it this thoroughly to my wife. You took advantage of the fact that she’s a woman and doesn’t understand all this car stuff.”
“Our boss is a woman too,” Jimmy says. “And she’s not a liar. She explained everything to that lady.” He points to Mr. Derwin’s wife. “I saw her sign and put the waiver in the glove compartment.”
“What aridiculouslie! There’s no such thing in the glove compartment.”
“Yes, there is,” Jimmy insists, his face reddening.
Mr. Derwin takes a long look at Jimmy. “Aren’t you that guy who got fired from the factory for sleeping on the job? I see only liars and hooligans are working at this shop.”
“Who are you calling a hooligan?” Blade demands, stomping over.
I step forward before things can escalate. “Mr. Derwin.”
The man cuts me with a dark look.
“Why don’t we check the glove compartment?”
“For what? Nothing’s there.”
“Then you won’t mind us checking.”
With a huff, Mr. Derwin marches outside and wrenches the car door open.
