“Okay,” the doctor said, looking only semi-reassured. “I’ll have him released. He should be out in just a bit. But…”
“But what?” Harp asked.
The doctor paused, then said, his tone even more serious than before, “It’s procedure for us to report crimes of violence.”
Logan shot his dad a quick told-you-so look.
“Since it happened in Cambria, I understand that falls under the Sheriff’s jurisdiction,” Dr. Mayer went on. “They’re sending someone over, but I don’t believe they’re here yet. So we’d appreciate it if you could hang around until they can talk with Mr. Myat.”
“Of course,” Harp said. “No problem. But, uh, Tooney doesn’t have to wait in back until they show up, does he?”
The doctor smiled. “Not at all. I’ll send him out as soon as he’s ready.”
“Thanks, doc. Appreciate it.”
After the doctor left, Harp eyed his son nervously. Logan was content to remain quiet, knowing it wasn’t helping his dad’s state of mind.
Tooney was wheeled out ten minutes later. Everyone smiled and told him he looked great and was going to be fine. The second part was hopefully true, but the first wasn’t even close. With a nasty bruise on his cheek and a couple of cuts—one on his nose and one near his temple, Tooney looked like a man in a lot of pain.
As the reunion ebbed, Logan caught his father’s eye, silently suggesting that now might be a good time for that talk he promised. Harp sighed, then nodded, and said, “Tooney. Logan’s having a hard time understanding the… uh…mugging issue. Thinks we probably should tell the truth when the Sheriff’s department shows up.”
“Not probably, Dad,” Logan corrected him.
His father frowned, but continued to look at his friend. “I thought it might be better if you explained to him…you know…”
Tooney gingerly turned his head in Logan’s direction. “Logan, thank you so much for helping me this morning.”
“I’m just glad I was there,” Logan said.
“I want you to know, I understand your concerns. But this matter…personal. A…mistake.”
“A mistake?”
“A miscommunication, that’s all.” He hesitated, then added, “Please, Logan, for me, say nothing.”
“Tooney, he was going to kill you.”
“Please,” he said, his eyes pleading. “I beg you. This most important to me. Say nothing.”
A glance at Harp told Logan that his father, and probably the rest of the WAMOs, knew whatever it was Tooney was unwilling to share. Apparently, it was enough to convince these old men to lie to the authorities for their friend.
Behind Logan, the door to the outside opened. Given the way Tooney and his father tensed, it didn’t take a genius to know the Sheriff’s deputies had arrived.
Tooney glanced at Logan again, panic now joining the fear on this face.
“I really don’t understand,” Logan said, then hesitated. He was confused by the fact the six men in front of him, men who he respected, were asking him to do something that didn’t make any apparent sense. But respect was one of the things his father had stressed to him growing up, and it was hard to go against that, especially with this group. “I know I’m going to regret this, but if that’s what you want, fine.”
Without another word, he stood up and left before the sheriff’s deputies could be directed their way. Apparently, he didn’t have anything to say to them anyway, because, according to the others, he wasn’t even there when the incident happened.
4
After dropping Tooney’s Bronco off behind his cafe, Logan headed over to the Dunn Right, getting there just past 9 a.m.
Since he was usually the first one in every morning, he took some ribbing from the other guys for oversleeping, but didn’t correct the misperception. Soon they were all elbows deep on their own projects, and talk was restricted to the occasional joke or comment on something the DJ on the radio said.
At noon, as Logan headed out to grab some lunch, Alejandro, Dunn Right’s head mechanic, pulled him aside. “Harp not coming in?”
Logan’s dad had yet to show up, which, in Alejandro’s eyes, would be unusual. Harp had seldom missed a day in the forty years since he’d bought the place from a guy name Alan Dunn. He’d kept the name because, as he always liked to say, “Dunn Right sounds a hell of a lot better than Harper Right.”
“He had some things he had to take care of,” Logan said.
“He’s feeling okay, though, right?” Alejandro had been at Dunn Right for twenty-one years, and had developed a close relationship with Harp.
“He’s—” Logan stopped himself. Those stitches on the side of his dad’s head were going to be very visible, so just saying he was fine wouldn’t cut it. “Actually, he fell down this morning. It’s nothing serious. Just a cut on the side of his head that needed a few stitches.”
“You weren’t going to tell me about that? What was it? The stairs? I keep telling him that he needs to move
