The president folded his arms.
"Why didn't you tell me last night?"
"I was scared."
The honesty surprised them both.
The mechanic looked down at his hands.
"I've worked here seven years. I've got a family depending on that paycheck. If I'm wrong, I've accused the man who supervises me of deliberately damaging a motorcycle. If I'm right, I don't know what else he's been doing."
The president's expression softened.
"You did the right thing coming to me."
"Did I?"
"We'll find out."
The mechanic placed the envelope on the desk.
"Those are copies of the repair records I kept."
The president opened it.
Inside were handwritten test results, work orders, parts requests, and dates that didn't fully match the official service file. Some differences were small. Others were harder to explain.
One invoice listed a replacement component that had never been installed. Another recorded labor performed during hours when the garage had been closed. Several diagnostic entries appeared to have been added later, using handwriting different from the mechanic who supposedly completed them.
The president studied the documents.
"How long have you suspected this?"
"I didn't want to suspect anything."
"That's not what I asked."
The mechanic swallowed.
"About a week."
The president turned toward the office computer.
"We have security cameras."
"I know."
"Let's see what they recorded."
The footage was stored on a small recorder behind the desk. The system was old and occasionally skipped frames, but it covered the main workbench and part of the motorcycle lift. The president searched through the previous evening's recordings while the mechanic stood behind him.
They watched the lead mechanic move through the garage.
They saw him pause beside the Shovelhead.
They saw his hand disappear into his pocket.
Then the image briefly froze.
When it resumed, he was standing beside the scrap container.
The president leaned closer.
"Can you enlarge it?"
The mechanic tried.
The image became grainy.
They could see the movement, but not the object.
"That's all?" the president asked.
"From that camera."
The mechanic pointed toward the monitor.
"There's another one above the parts room."
The president changed the view.
The second camera showed the opposite side of the garage, but the workbench blocked part of the mechanic's body. The footage revealed him bending toward the scrap container, followed by a small movement near his right hand. It was suspicious, but it wasn't enough to establish exactly what he had dropped.
The president sat back.
"Save both recordings."
The mechanic nodded.
"And don't tell anyone what we've found."
The president looked at the envelope.
"Not until we understand it."
Outside, the teenager was helping an older club member sort a box of clean shop towels.
He didn't know that his question had triggered an investigation.