Murder at the Racetrack by Otto Penzler

looked more closely.
     “There’s a panel at the back.”
    He set out to find the device that would open the panel. He enjoyed solving this kind of puzzle, but all the while, he found
     himself equally concerned that this would be where he would find at best something that might overset all the legal work that
     went into settling Mark’s estate, and at worst, some horrible secret that Mark could not bear to be known, perhaps even some
     other cause for his suicide.
    “Maybe I should leave,” Donna said.
    “Please don’t,” he said, more vehemently than he intended. He looked up at her and added, “I know I can trust your discretion.”
    “Thanks.”
    A few moments later, he heard a satisfying click, and the panel slid back, revealing a large manila envelope. Eric removed
     it, looked for any other contents, and found none. He tested for other secret compartments and, satisfied that he had discovered
     the only one, put the panel back in place and then turned his attention to the envelope.
    It contained two file folders. He pulled the top one out. The front of the folder was stamped, COPPER COUNTY SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT. The label had two lines of type: “Halsted, C.” and the date of Carlotta’s death on the first, and a long unfamiliar number
     beneath that. He opened it, saw the first horrible photo, and quickly shut it.
    “The accident investigation?”
    “So it appears,” he said shakily. “My God…”
    “You going to be okay?”
    “Yes. Yes. It just—I hadn’t ever seen—”
    “No, of course not.”
    He sat in silence for a moment, then placed the folder back in the envelope.
    “Probably hid them here so that Jimmy wouldn’t go through what you just did,” she said.
    “Yes, I’m sure that’s the case.”
    “Can you keep that away from him at the house?”
    “Yes,” he said. “I have a safe.”
    “Mark must have had a reason for keeping it.”
    “Beyond his obsession…” he broke off.
    “I’m just saying, maybe when you aren’t so angry with him, you can take a closer look at it.”
    “I’m not ang—well, okay, maybe I am. I’m not going to throw it away, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
    “No, something like this won’t frighten you for long. You’ve got more spine than your brother ever had. More than Carlotta,
     for that matter.”
    He thought she was wrong on both counts, but found he didn’t have an ounce of energy left for an argument.
    “You going to be okay driving home?” she asked. “Maybe we should head back—we’ll get home just before Jimmy gets out of school
     if we leave now.”
    He agreed. She insisted on following him on the drive, and he found himself glancing into the rearview mirror often, comforted
     each time he saw her big pickup truck there.
    •    •    •
    That evening, after Jimmy had fallen asleep—and after a period of time spent wondering if Donna might really be signaling
     him that she was receptive to being dated by him, or if that was wishful thinking on his part—Eric began to go through the
     mail from Mark’s house. He was surprised to find it included two envelopes from two separate law enforcement agencies. One
     was from the sheriff’s department in Osita County, the county where Mark had died. That one was addressed to Eric. The second
     was addressed to Mark, and was from the sheriff’s department in this county, Copper County, which shared a border with Osita
     County.
    He opened the one addressed to himself. A “final notice” (Final? When had there been any previous ones?) saying that Mark’s
     Corvette must be picked up from the Osita County Sheriff’s Department impound yard within thirty days, or it would be sold
     at auction. It had been released to Eric as trustee of Mark’s estate per a court order. What Eric considered to be outrageously
     high storage fines must be paid as well. He sighed. All of California’s counties were cash strapped, so fines were levied
     at every possible