“Altered how?”
“The stability system works by applying the brakes selectively to the wheels when it senses a skid. It does it faster than a human can, and it can brake just one wheel. The chip had been altered so that when it sensed the skid, it applied the brakes not to the correct wheels but to the opposite wheel or wheels. So instead of defeating the skid, it made it immediately worse. The driver couldn’t keep up with it.”
“Are they sure it wasn’t a manufacturing fault?”
“No, but this sort of thing had never happened before.”
“That the chip company would admit.”
“Right.”
“Well, it’s a very clever way to murder somebody, but that kind of attempt would have a very low success rate. I mean, the killer would have to know that the car would be in conditions conducive to an accident.”
“It was public knowledge that the justice had a house in the mountains, and the weather report for the day is all the information Teddy would need.”
“Okay, I buy it. Can I turn around and look at these people now, please?”
“You can look at the guy up close; he’s headed this way.”
Stone turned and looked at the man, who had come up to the bar on the side opposite from Holly. She was right about his hair; colored, but real.
“Morning,” the man said to everybody.
“Good morning.”
“Bartender, do you have any Alka-Seltzer back there?” the man asked.
“Yes, sir.” A glass of water was placed on the bar and two tablets began to fizz.
“I’ve got to stop eating my own cooking,” the man said. His accent was mildly southern.
“You’re eating your own cooking on vacation?” Stone asked, grateful for the opening.
“I came in on a boat last night,” the man said. “Sailed it down from Lauderdale.”
“Singlehanded?”
“Yep. A lot of fun.”
“I’ve done a little of that. I sailed a fifty-footer from here to Lauderdale a few years back.”
“Mine’s smaller than that,” the man said. It’s a Hinckley Bermuda Forty.”
“Nice boat. Easy to singlehand?”
“Well, I improved the deck layout a little for singlehanding, and GPS sure makes the navigation easier.”
“How’d you pick St. Marks?”
“Well, I was going sailing, anyway, and…” He stuck out his hand. “By the way, my name is Harry Pitts.”
Stone shook the hand. “Stone Barrington.”
“Lady I used to go out with has a place here, so I dropped in to see her, thought I’d rest up for a week or two. Where you from?”
“New York.”
“I’m from a little town in Virginia you never heard of. What business you in?”