At the appointed hour, the doorbell rang at Jack Jenkins home, “Detective Black?” asked Jack, Sr. “Yes, may I come in”, the detective asked. “Sure, sure” said Jack as he ushered the detective to a stuffed chair and the living room. “Mr. Jenkins, I have reason to believe that your driver did not have an accident and was not driving recklessly, but that someone tampered with the motor mounts on the vehicle”, the detective started. He then pulled out the pictures taken by the technician showing the rust markings on the undercarriage of the car. “Who ever did this, had access to a garage and access to a wench to hold up the engine while they swapped out the motor mounts. This was not vandalism, too much work for that, this was without a doubt attempted murder”. Jack shivered for a second and then said, “This is not the first incident. But I didn’t want to report it at the time because I was in a car in Louisiana”. Jack said cautiously choosing his words. “I’m not interested in whether you were driving without a license, what I am worried about is that someone might be trying to kill you”, the officer said trying to allay Jack’s concerns. “Okay, I was driving my car in Louisiana after a conference. The brakes failed. The mechanic said that someone had punctured the brake line, but did not bleed it or cut it. This meant that the fluid oozed out over time, so it wasn’t immediate. Since I was coming from New Orleans, I just chalked it up to youthful mischief.” Jack answered. The detective nodded. “Who knew that you were in New Orleans driving that car?” the detective prodded. “Only my son, Junior”, Jack said with a melancholy voice.