Jessica Thomas [Alex Peres Mysteries 6] Murder Takes to the Hills

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She looked across the table at me, suddenly solemn. Seriously, I think he should go to jail. He s had us both on edge, reacting to every little noise, jumping when the phone rings, and I know you go through the mail.
He s taken up Sonny s time and police department funds. He has worried my boss and involved bank security people. I don t think he should get away with just saying he s sorry, that he was simply carried away by my
great beauty. Go and sin no more, is not in it for this guy.
I grinned. You tell em , tiger, I m with you!
And I was. But I wondered if she had considered the stress of a public trial, with all its ramifications. Probably not. On the other hand, she would likely go through it with admirable composure, at least on the surface. I
recalled a phrase my grandmother sometimes used that made me snicker as a little kid. So-and-So has great intestinal fortitude. Meaning, of course, great courage. Sonny used a phrase I liked better: He has grace
under fire. Whatever you called it, Cindy had it.
While I accepted Sonny s and Cindy s faith in Edgar, I wanted to see for myself. So Thursday after Cindy left I set out to keep tabs on our retired cop. Sometimes I cruised the block in my car, sometimes I walked, other
times I stood or sat, letting him pass me by on foot or in his unexciting, mature gray Hyundai.
I had to smile. Edgar and I were doing much of the same things, right down to changing our clothes sometime around midday. He had started the day dressed for business. Around eleven he surfaced in bright blue
shorts, Hawaiian shirt and a sun hat. Not the same man at all. And early afternoon I graduated from a denim skirt and yellow blouse to my most ratty jeans, baseball cap and a T-shirt boasting that Hockey players do it
with a big stick.
Mid-afternoon I graded us both an A-Plus and headed home, feeling that between the two of us, the love of my life was in good hands.
Driving toward home, I realized that I had been so involved with Cindy s problem I hadn t seen Harmon, nor had I contacted Cassie about her possible trouble with the strange Pennsylvania customers.
I figured I should see her for some firsthand information and wondered if she were at the airport. I pulled into the first parking spot I found on Commercial Street and fished around in the glove compartment until I
actually found my cell phone. And Cassie, in fact, picked up her phone. Two rarities. I told her I was on my way to the airport if that suited her schedule. It did, and I carefully jammed the phone in my pocket.
I found Cassie in the hangar on a ladder, changing the oil in the port engine.
Don t you have a mechanic now to do things like that? I asked.
Hah! If you mean that sweet child Sonny sent out here, he doesn t know the difference between a propeller and a dipstick. I forbade him to do anything other than check the air in the tires, and I wouldn t rely on that. My
dear, I love your outfit, and I m sure Cindy does. Her eyebrows curved upward and her mouth curled in a sarcastic angle.
Uh, yeah. I have some dirty yard chores this afternoon, I fibbed. Have you heard any more from the three Pittsburgh pirates? I opened a small refrigerator and took out a can of Budweiser. You want one?
Yes to the pirates and no to the beer. Get me a Snapple iced tea. I m flying tomorrow morning.
I knew she maintained a strict no-drinking-for-twenty-four-hours-before-a-flight rule, so as I handed her the tea, I waved the can of Bud. This going to bother you?
No, she lied, looking wistful, so I was noble and took a bottle of tea instead.
The pirates seem okay, she remarked as she climbed down the ladder and motioned us to her tiny office in a corner of the building. The men belong to some veterans club in this little town near Pittsburgh. And they
are having a big benefit dinner to raise money for a new clubhouse. They figure everyone is sick of hamburgers and hot dogs or spaghetti and meatballs, so they thought up a shore dinner. They figure they ll get maybe
four hundred people instead of two hundred by advertising something new and different. So they came out here to line up the food.
Why here and why in person? Wouldn t a phone call to a Boston or even a Pittsburgh wholesaler have been easier?
Sure. Cassie laughed. But this guy Frank loves an excuse to fly and he s got a nice four-seater Cessna, so they piled in it and headed east. And before you ask, why Ptown& one of the men was here with his wife
last summer and had a delicious lobster dinner. Are you getting the picture& three little boys off on a lark.
An ashtray on the rickety table between us told me I could smoke, so I pulled one out. Cassie lifted it from my fingers, so I pulled out another and lit both. I thought you were quitting, I mentioned casually.
Uh, not really, but my pack is out in the car. I smoke less if I have to take time to go get them. It kind of keeps Lainey off my case.
And mine were right here, handy. Sometimes I think I supply the entire eastern seaboard of non-smokers, wannabe non-smokers and occasional smokers. I wished I had taken the beer. I wished I had stock in whoever
makes Virginia Slims. But I got back to the reason for my visit. Wasn t there something about renting your plane, and landing in the dark in an unlit cornfield?
My God! What is Harmon spreading around? Yes, Frank wanted to rent the plane and fly it himself. It would be a bit cheaper for them, but I think he really would just like to fly it. He s licensed for twin engine and
checked out in a plane like mine. However, I told him: where my plane goes, I go. They want the seafood to arrive just before or just after dawn, so the cooks can start cooking in the morning and be ready to serve by noon.
Frank has his own little grass strip on his farm with limited lights. It s plenty long enough and nice and smooth, he says. The lighting is more or less adequate, especially with someone on board who knows the approach.
For heaven s sake there s no mystery about this. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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