Free Canyon Secret by Patrick Lee Page A

road.”
    Tomas sat back in the booth. “You’re wrong. I know you’re wrong.” His voice quivered as he finished his words. It was the first time he ever spoke like this to his godfather. The words came out before he measured what he said. “I, I’m sorry. Please just give David a chance. That’s all I mean. You’ll see.”
    Nolan’s face reddened as he waived his finger at Tomas. He stammered as he spoke, “Don’t you never talk to me like that again, Kid. Where was he when you made your First Communion? I was there. Where was he when that Stosich kid kicked your ass after school and you came to me cryin’? Who taught you how to box so you gave that kid his own asskickin’? And I don’t remember seeing him at your graduation from Butte High. Where was he when your mother moved out on you and your dad? Goddamn you! You listen to me. Stay away from that crooked, worthless son of a bitch! He’s no earthly good I tell ya.” The other customers looked over toward their booth, but no one said a word.
    Tomas watched and heard the café door slam as Tim Nolan disappeared into the street. He had never seen his godfather so mad. Oh God, what’ve I done? He walked over to the cash register and paid his bill. The young girl working there smiled at him as he fumbled for his wallet. “Your father’s pretty mad at you ain’t he.”
    “He ain’t my father.” Tomas shrugged his broadening shoulders, forced a polite smile, and walked outside to look to see if he could track down John Nolan.

    For the first day in two weeks it didn’t rain. Friday, he thought as he set his coffee cup down on his office desk. “Today I get to meet with two FBI agents. I wonder what the hell they want with me?”
    His secretary Mary knocked on the doorframe to his makeshift shack of an office. “W.R., the two gentlemen from the FBI are here to see you.”
    “Thanks Mary, send them on in.”
    Two men in dark blue suits walked into his office. They introduced themselves as Agents Hughes and Moore. “Mr. Scalf, we’re here to talk to you about something confidential. It’s imperative that this conversation remains here between us only. Is that understood?”
    “I understand. What’s going on?”
    Hughes went ahead first, “We have good reason to believe that there is a murderer here on the Hungry Horse Dam site. There were identical unsolved murders at the Hoover and Grand Coulee Dam building sites. Both murders occurred during the last months of completion. Both murders were execution style with single gunshots to the head. Both were from the same rifle.”
    Scalf walked toward the coffee pot and filled his white clay cup. “Can I get either one of you a cup?”
    Moore motioned yes with his finger. Scalf filled a cup and brought it to him at his chair near the window. Agent Moore picked up where his partner left off. “Both men killed were shift bosses and had been with the projects for at least two years.”
    His partner cleared his throat and continued, “We need a list of every man employed here now who worked on either or both Hoover or Grand Coulee. We also want a list of your walking bosses. We’d like those lists before five o’clock today.”
    W.R. Scalf wasn’t used to being instructed what to do. He normally was the one barking out the orders. “Why do you need the list of those men?”
    Moore answered, “If they worked on the other two projects, they might be good suspects in those other murders. Or they may be planning to kill someone else here. I think it’s obvious why we want a list of your walking bosses.”
    Scalf nodded his head before he replied, “I’ll get those lists to you before five. Come back then and pick up the list from my secretary.”
    “No, you compile the lists and you keep the lists with you. No one else is to have any idea what we’re doing here. Not even your secretary.”
    His lip curled and he rubbed his right ear as he normally did when his temper flared. Scalf organized the