Chapter 4 - The Dissection of a Lie
Frank took a step forward, his heavy, steel-toed work boots thudding loudly against the linoleum floor. He held the yellow work order right under Arthur’s nose, his voice low, gravelly, and absolute.
"I pulled that car myself," Frank said, his eyes locking onto Arthur with a terrifying, unblinking glare. "It's a forty-dollar sensor."
Arthur opened his mouth to shout, but Frank raised a single, grease-blackened finger, cutting the manager off before a single word could escape.
"He wrote this before anybody opened the hood," Frank continued, turning his body toward the room full of waiting customers, exposing the internal mechanics of the scam to everyone present. "I checked the transmission fluid. It's clean as a whistle. The solenoid harness was loose, and the speed sensor burned out. Forty bucks for the part, five minutes to swap it on the rack."
The young woman in the yellow hoodie gasped, her hand dropping away from the card reader as her tear-filled eyes darted from the terrifying mechanic to the trembling manager.
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Arthur’s composure fractured entirely. Sweat began to bead along his hairline, soaking into the foam pad of his headset. "He's old, he's confused!" Arthur yelled, addressing the room in a desperate bid to regain control of the narrative. "Frank doesn't run the diagnostics equipment! He's just a teardown tech!"
"I was building transmissions before you learned how to wipe your nose, Arthur," Frank said quietly, reaching deep into the front pocket of his oil-stained blue overalls.
