Page 82 of The Woman in the Garage

“In what way?”

“Well, for example, the price of an oil change is very different car to car.”

“Not to imply you don’t know your business, but don’t different cars cost different amounts? Bigger cars need more oil, right?”

“That’s just the thing, though. Sometimes, a very small car is charged almost twice as much as a much larger car.”

“Alright, yeah. That makes no sense.”

“I tried to think of all different reasons for the discrepancies. For example, maybe different mechanics charge more or something like that. But the closer I looked, the more widespread it seemed to be. All of the mechanics have charges that make no sense.”

Santo was silent for a second. “How far back have you checked the books? Was it like this when your uncle was still running things?”

“As far as I can tell, yes.”

“Have you confronted any of the mechanics about this?”

“I did ask Ren one day about it. But once I realized it was all of them, it seemed pointless to single anyone out.”

“Could there be a glitch with the computer syst—no?” he asked when I shook my head.

“They don’t use a computer. Everything is handwritten. Receipts too. They still use carbon copy receipts.”

“Hmm.”

“Exactly.”

Santo looked over at me, his keen eyes watching me for a moment. “Why do I get the feeling that’s not all?”

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Okay. What else you got?”

“Remember my uncle’s storage unit?”

Santo’s eyes warmed. “Yeah, baby. I remember that unit well.”

He looked seconds away from pushing me on my back, burying between my thighs, and recreating the scene from the unit.

Despite being wholly satisfied already, a twinge of desire grew once more.

“Well, it turns out that my uncle had more than one storage unit.”

“That makes sense, for such a packrat. The one we saw was probably just his newer one, right?”

“Well, it was the newer one, yeah. But…”

Santo’s head tipped as he watched my discomfort. “Baby, do I need to remind you that I literally pay for this house through illegal means? Whatever it is, you don’t have to hesitate to tell me.”

“So I realized that most of the keys on that big ring I had of his—“

It was then that I remembered my purse falling, the contents spreading.

“Whoa. What is it?” Santo asked when I all but leapt off the bed, grabbing my shirt and putting it on, but not bothering with the buttons.

“My purse. Where’s my purse?” I remembered seeing it in the car. Santo had grabbed it. But what if it had already been gone through? What if it was gone?

“Baby, wait,” Santo called, grabbing a pair of sleep pants out of a drawer and tripping as he tried to put them on and rush after me at the same time.

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