Logan's Young Guns. Nathan Walpow
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doing this for me?”
“I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for your sister.”
“But, I mean, you don’t know her. Why do you want to help her?”
Logan thought about telling Johnny some of the story. How he’d semi-accidentally tracked down a rapist when he was in grad school. And slit the guy’s throat. And hated all the blood and the mess but really liked ridding the world of someone it was best free of. And how everything grew from that.
He thought about it, and then he said, “I look out for people.”
“Man,” Johnny said. He ceremoniously fastened his seatbelt. Pulled on it to make sure it was secure. Said, “Let’s go to OC, then.”
“In a minute. I want to check something.”
Logan pulled out his phone. Clicked around a bit. Found the phone number for the Rite-On drugstore in Pacoima. Also found out it was open twenty-four hours.
He dialed it and drilled down through the menus until he got a live person. A woman. “Tony there?”
“Who?”
“Tony.”
“Oh. Right. On the day shift.”
“What time does that start?”
“At eight.”
Logan glanced at his watch. Six hours plus. “Okay, thanks.”
“Have a nice day,” the woman said and clicked off.
Johnny had his head cocked like a golden retriever. “There’s a Tony there too?”
“Appears to be.”
“Well, shit. I didn’t think of that. That there could be two Tonys.”
“At least.”
“Jeez. I suppose the one she works with is a better bet than my father.”
“Probably.”
“So how are we gonna find him?”
“We’re going to walk into Rite-On at eight.”
A slow nod. “I get it. We’re gonna go visit my uncle, and then we’re gonna come back and find this Tony.”
“You do got it, Johnny.”
Logan turned the key. They backed out of their spot and found their way back to the 5 and were shortly headed south.
A little before downtown, Logan remembered the Paydays. He dug one out and tossed it to Johnny and said, “Put your thinking cap on.”
Johnny was getting into it. He dropped the Payday on the console and mimed placing a hat on his head. “Shoot.”
“Any more Tonys you can think of?”
“Let me see.” He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he said, “There was an Anthony at Folsom. That’s like a Tony.”
“Is there any way Tiffany would know him?”
“Um, no. And anyway, he got shivved.”
“Let me rephrase. Any more live Tonys you can think of?”
“Oh. Right. Ummm …”
On the right, downtown Los Angeles passed by, the lights of the skyscrapers put to shame by the moon beyond.
“No,” Johnny said.
“So just two Tonys.”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re sure she said ’Tony.’”
“I’m sure. I know how she talks. Even with her all banged up like that, I know what she said.”
“It couldn’t have been, say, ’Toby’?”
“Who the fuck is named Toby?”
“Toby Keith, for instance. The country music singer.”
“Right. I heard of him. But, no, I swear on my mother’s grave that she said ’Tony.’”
“Your mother. She dead long?”
“Just a couple years, my stepdad too. She went, bing, bang, he went too.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I lost my mom pretty young too. Eat your candy bar.”
For the rest of the ride, most of the talk was about Tiffany. Johnny clearly thought his main mission in life was to be a good big brother to her. He also thought he was doing a lousy job of it. Not just because of what had just happened. He recounted several times when he thought he’d let her down. Once with a cheating boyfriend. Once with a money problem. Once with not cleaning the trailer when he was supposed to.
“Did you ever ask her,” Logan said, “how she feels about how good a big brother you are?”
“She thinks I’m okay,” Johnny mumbled.
“You asked her?”
“No. Never. I just … sometimes she tells me. She likes what I do for her, even when I think it’s half-assed.”
“Then don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Johnny went silent, and Logan let things be. They were a few miles into Orange County when Johnny came to life.
“There,” he said. “Oyclid Avenue. That’s the exit. And he for sure lives in Fullerton? ”
Logan eased onto the ramp, considering letting Johnny know the proper pronunciation of Euclid. He decided to spare the kid’s delicate psyche. He took the turn north. “Look familiar?”
“Yeah. This is for damn sure it.” And after a few blocks, “There. The Toyota dealer. You go past that. Then, in a while. it’s a right.”
It went on for a couple of miles. Then Johnny sprang to life. “There! There! The covered wagon restaurant.”
After that, things were easy, except for getting the final turn wrong. But Johnny quickly realized his mistake, and not long after two, they were sitting across the street from a one-story house with a bunch of palm trees in the yard.
“Good job,” Logan said.
“Do we just go up and ring the bell?”
“You go first in case he looks out. We don’t want him seeing a strange man lurking in front of his house in the middle of the night.”
Johnny nodded solemnly. “What should I say?”
“Just tell him what’s going on. Then tell him about me. Say I’m a private detective or something. You’ll figure it out.”
“You got it,” Johnny said and got out and marched up to the front door.
4
Johnny rang the doorbell. No one answered. He looked back at Logan, who made a little circle with his finger. Turn around. So Johnny did. He rang the bell again. Still no answer, so he knocked.
Finally, a porch light came on. Johnny stuck his face in front of the peephole so that they could see who it was.
The door opened. Aunt Suzanne was standing there. She was wearing a bathrobe that was too long for her, bunching up on the floor.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hello, Johnny,” Aunt Suzanne said. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Kinda late.”
“Exactly.”
“The thing is, I need to talk to Uncle Frank.”
“At this hour of the morning?”
“Yeah.