One
Jarrod
It wasn’t unheard of for a mechanic to have to reattach a bumper that had come off a car. It also wasn’t unheard of to have to fix areas of a vehicle that had become twisted or dented because of an accident. What was unheard of was to have to remove pieces of metal that had been welded to the underside of the car – which had almost ripped a hole in the undercarriage – that had part of an industrial chain still attached to it, fix a new bumper to the vehicle because the other one looked like it had been hit by a semi, and also patch up nine holes that had gone straight through the bodywork of the car when the chain had snapped and whipped into it.
The question I had was – why was there a chain attached to the underside of the vehicle? And for that matter, why did it look like a Transformer had attacked the bumper?
And finally, why was Hurst Townsend standing next to his friend, Bill Richards, whose car was in the same condition, looking so guilty and worried?
Scratching the back of my neck, I tried to figure out how best to phrase it all, but there was only one thing for it. “It’s fucked, Hurst. I mean, we can fix it, but I’m thinking insurance won’t cover this.”
Bill’s body straightened up and stiffened at this and, with his head tipped back so he was looking at the ceiling, he hissed, “Shit!”
Avoiding my eyes, Hurst looked around us and then winced when he saw the damage to the cars again. “Uh, is there any way to do this like… well, off the books?”
Not understanding what he was asking for, I repeated, “Off the books?”
Clearing his throat, he gestured at his vehicle. “Yeah, so that no one knows.”
Now it was my turn to look around us, but I did it with good reason. “Um, Hurst, we’re standing in your grandson’s garage. One of them will most likely end up working on this with me, but even if they didn’t, they’re going to recognize the car,” I drawled, and then looked over at the other man who was now chewing on his lip. “And your grandson’s a deputy here, so he probably knows y’all had an accident, right?”
Muttering something under his breath, Bill plastered a smile on his face and nodded. “Absolutely, of course he does. As soon as it happened we rang him and reported it. Didn’t we, Hurst?”
Crossing my arms, I watched Hurst try to think of his addition to this merry tale. I wasn’t buying it for a second – these two were trouble together, and this wasn’t the first ‘mishap’ to their cars we’d had to fix.
Snapping his fingers, Hurst spun around with a smile on his face – although it had to be said it was one of relief. “Yup, sure did. As soon as it happened we rang through and he came out to inspect it and wrote it all down in his notepad.”
“I see,” I hummed, walking around to the other side of Bill’s car and almost choking when I saw that the rear panel was completely missing and the chain attached to his car was now wrapped around the axle. “And what exactly happened?”
They exchanged a few glances, and then Bill shook his head and took a step back, leaving Hurst to answer the question.
“It was a hit and run?”
“What exactly hit you?”
“It was too dark for us to see.”
Turning to face Bill, I watched him take a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipe his forehead. “How did it hit both of you at the same time?”
Sighing, he hunched his shoulders and looked at the floor. “Pure luck, I guess.”
“And where did the chain come from?”
By this point the poor man was almost bent over in two as he repeated, “Pure luck, I guess.”
Hearing a noise from the office that overlooked the garage, I glanced up and saw another person who confused me – albeit in a good way – Katy Crew. She was staring incredulously at the two vehicles until Hurst moved and caught her attention, then she rolled her eyes and shook her head, the questions in her mind over the type of damage answered immediately. Amen, babe, amen.
Dragging my attention back to the two old miscreants in front of me, I asked, “And what did Logan think about it all?”
“Um, not much. He just wrote in his little book and that was it.”
Raising an eyebrow, I made to reach for the phone in my back pocket, making it clear what I was going to do.
“Ok, fine,” Hurst snapped, throwing his arm out toward his friend. “Bill and me started having ‘man night’ every other Thursday three months ago.”
Taking in a fidgeting Bill, I knew I’d kick myself for it, but I just had to know. “Man night?”