Murder and Mayhem (51 page)

“She was. But when she met Henry it was love at first
sight, so she decided to forget about her husband, gave her boyfriend the
flick, and now here we are getting ready for another wedding. We do like large
traditional weddings,” she added. “Daphne looks lovely in white.”

“But, isn’t she still married to… err…
what’s-his-face?”

“Oh sure, but they’re flying to Vegas for a quickie
divorce next week and then it’s all systems go. Daphne is planning on having
five bridesmaids, a ring carrier, and four flower girls. I’ll be Maid of Honor,
of course. I plan to wear apricot.” Susannah sighed.

I thought apricot might clash with her yellower than
yellow hair, but decided to keep my fashion tips to myself. “But I thought
Daphne was worried about her reputation, and self-respect, when her husband
dumped her, so how is this going to look?”

Susannah shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder about
you, Bee. What better way to regain your reputation and self-respect than to
invite all the naysayers to the big bash and rub their noses in it.”

“There’s nothing like a big wedding to make all your
friends jealous,” Rosie smiled at Daphne, paused then added, “I can give you
the name of a great wedding planner.”

Wedding planner! Where does she get this stuff!

*****

The summer was over and the last of its warmth had
died in the cold rain that covered the landscape. Evening traffic crowded the
expressway as eighteen-wheelers rolled down the wet blacktop like
hell-on-wheels, bright headlights guiding them through the night to
destinations far and near. The steady rain traced its way across the windshield
as Danny followed red taillights that snaked down the busy highway. 

“Have you ever had any problems taking bike parts onto
the plane?” Nicola asked.

“I’ve only ever had one episode. It happened when we
were staying in a hotel downtown. We’d returned from New York a day earlier
than originally planned because I wanted to connect with a mate who was
catching the red-eye to Chicago.

“I’d gotten up early and turned on the television and
was watching what I thought was a movie while we waited for room service to
deliver breakfast. I remember saying to Sara, “I haven’t seen this movie
before. It looks like it might be one of Steven Spielberg’s.” Suddenly the
caption, “America under Attack” flashed across the bottom of the screen. That
was 9/11.

“So we spent the entire day, and half the night
sitting in front of the television watching the horror unfold–too afraid to
look away in case we missed something. Like hundreds of millions of others
around the world, we couldn’t believe what was happening,” he said shaking his
head, sadly.

“I think it affected most people like that. I don’t
think too many Americans would have turned up for work that day. The entire
county seemed to be in a daze.” Nicola paused then added, “Followed by a nation
in mourning.”

“Two days later we were flying back to Australia and
were advised to be at the airport four hours before take-off due to the strict
security checks that were supposed to be in place. When we arrived at the airport,
the place was deserted.  I thought something must have happened but when we
went to United Airlines check-in there was an attendant at the counter–but no
one else in sight. As usual I had my bag full of goodies. In fact, I had so
many I packed them in a sturdy box and sealed it with an entire roll of duct
tape. The box was so heavy even I had trouble lifting it. I expected to be hit
with an excess baggage fee, but I wasn’t too concerned because I’d gotten a
really good deal on some rare parts. So I put my bag on the weighing machine
and the attendant, who was from somewhere in South America, asked me in English
I could barely understand, if I had anything else. I told him I also had a box
to go in the hold. When I put the box on the machine the guy didn’t even look
up from his terminal. He asked me what was in the box, but didn’t seem
suspicious or curious. After what happened just two days earlier I through he’d
show some sort of interest in me, or the box–but didn’t.

“What’s in the box?’ he asked in the same deadpan
voice, still not looking up from his terminal. ‘Motorbike parts,’ I said. ‘Is
there anything breakable in the box?’ he asked his eyes still glued to the
terminal. ‘No, it’s just motorbike parts, there’s nothing breakable in there.’
And then he said–and I kid you not–‘United Airlines will not accept
responsibility for any damage. You must sign a disclaimer.’ So naturally I
said, ‘Fine. I’ll sign anything you want.’

The man handed me a disclaimer form and I signed it.
The box was put on the conveyor belt–and that was it.

“I expected someone somewhere to open the box and
check what was inside, but no one did. When I arrived in Sydney the box was
exactly the way I’d packed it except it now it had the word, HEAVY, written all
over it in large red letters.”

“I thought the country was supposed to be in lock-down
after 9/11?” Nicola said.

“So did I. But…” he shrugged, “apparently not. I put
it down to the fact that the plane was probably filled with Aussies, and if a
bomb went off it would only come down in the ocean. What really blew my mind
about the whole entire incident was that no one was interested in the box or
its contents. All they wanted was for me to sign a disclaimer in case something
happened and wanted to cover their asses. And the funny part was I wasn’t even
charged excess baggage!”

*****

“Have you ever had any problems with baggage,” my
sister asked.

“Only one time.”

“Why? What happened?”

“A couple of year back we were at Chicago’s O’Hare
Airport catching a flight back to San Francisco after we’d been to Davenport to
one of those swap meets that Ross likes to go to, and he was loaded down with
so much stuff I was sure we’d get hit with a huge excess baggage bill. So Ross,
thinking he was being smart, decided to put his clothes in the hold and the
parts in two bags, as cabin luggage, because they don’t weigh carry-on
baggage.”

“Makes sense to me. So, what happened?”

“We checked the luggage and as
we went through security, the guy at the x-ray machine pointed to Ross’s bags.
They removed them from the conveyor belt and two great big burley guys beckoned
Ross over and asked him if they were his bags. Naturally, he said yes. We
weren’t worried, we had nothing to hide. When they asked Ross what was in the
bags he told them, motorbike parts. The bigger of the two told him to take
everything out of the bags and spread them out on the table. 

“So Ross unpacked everything and
the men started going through them, inspecting every piece until one of the
security guys knew what they were, and told Ross to put them back in the bags.”

“Did they let them go through?”

“Not a chance. One of the men
told him he couldn’t take them on board as hand luggage. Not because they were
too heavy, as you would expect, but because they may fall out of the overhead locker
and hit someone on the head. But, Ross, being Ross told him he’d put them under
his feet. The guy shook his head and said they had to go into the hold.”

“So, what did you do?”

“Before we knew it, this large
black woman who was built like a tank, picked up the bags and told us to follow
her. We had to practically run to keep up as she strode down the concourse
scattering people like a bull in a china shop. Ross finally caught up and
offered to carry the bags, knowing how heavy they were, but she just looked at
him as if he was some kind of insect and said, “Sir, these bags have been
checked by security. You cannot touch them.”  And as she was the one with the
gun, we followed her back through the gate and out to the check-in counter
where she bypassed everyone in the line and went to the nearest counter. She
told the couple already there to get back into the line, then she handed the
bags, our tickets and boarding passes to the attendant who processed them,
handed the paperwork back and we followed the security guard back through the
security checkpoint and were allowed to proceed to the gate without any further
ado.”

“And, that was it?”

“That was it. And to say we were surprised we weren’t
hit with excess baggage fees is an understatement.”

“Is that the only time you had a problem?”

“Well, last year we nearly had a problem but it ended
up okay.”

“Why, what happened?”

“We had three large bags to check into the hold. One
was filled with books. You know how I always load up with books while I’m here
because they’re so cheap.”

“I’m always amazed at the amount of books you take
back,” Rosie said.

“You know me, I’m a book tragic. I love to read and
books are so expensive in Australia. Anyway, even though the bag filled with
books was a couple of pounds over the guy at check-in let it go through. But
the big bag filled with motorbike parts was
waay
over–like twenty
pounds–and I figured we’re finally going to have to pay excess baggage. But the
check-in operator suggested Ross go to the bag store down the concourse and
purchased another bag so we could distribute the weight. And the bag was on
special for $9.99! I just love United Airlines!”

*****

“How come you don’t fly Qantas?” Nicola asked as they
crossed the 380 flyover to 101 and took the International Airport Terminal
off-ramp, carefully navigating the chicanes that led to the short term parking
garage.

“Because Qantas doesn’t fly to San Francisco.”

Danny popped the trunk, grabbed his bags and they
headed for the United Airlines Departure Terminal. “I wish they had
curb
-side check-in for international flights. It’s
so much easier,” he said as they joined the slow moving line to the check-in
counter.

“Good evening. Are you both traveling on the flight to
Sydney this evening?” the friendly United Airlines operator asked when they
approached the counter.

“No just me,” Danny said. He handed over his passport
and placed the larger of two bags on the weighing machine.

The attendant processed the information handed back
his passport and a boarding pass and said, “Boarding’s at 9.35 from Gate 94. 
Enjoy your flight Mr. Richards,” smiled, and beckoned the next passenger
forward.

Danny took hold of Nicola’s hand and squeezed it
tightly as they walked down the concourse to the security checkpoint, dropped
his bag to the floor, wrapped his arms around Nicola and held her close. Nicola
could feel his heart beating steady and strong like a clock counting off
seconds. Danny kissed the top of her head and buried his face in her hair. They
stood suspended in the embrace as the world moved around them.

A woman with a small child balanced on her hip
clutching a bunch of white roses tripped on another passenger’s suitcase and
bumped into Danny. “Sorry,” she called on the run leaving a trail of white
petals scattered across the marble floor like snowflakes. 

Danny glanced at the retreating back of the woman,
dropped his hands to his sides and stepped back. “I’ve got to go, Nic.”

“I know.”

Danny’s eyes skimmed over her face taking in the
gentle curve and fullness of her lips; the shape of her nose. Her normally
vibrant green eyes were red-rimmed. He stroked her face with his hand, and the
delicate skin around her eyes. Danny leaned down and kissed her eyelids and ran
his fingers through her hair, feeling the silky softness. He tilted her head up
and kissed her passionately on the lips then stepped back and held her at arms’
length.

“I really have to go,” he said. “The longer we delay
the harder it’s going to be. I’ll ring you as soon as I get home and I’ll phone
you every day. I should be back in about six weeks–two months at the most,
after I’ve got everything sorted out. In the meantime you know you can ring me
anytime Nic, day or night, no matter the time. You’ve got my office number as
well as my home and cell numbers. The only time I won’t answer is when I’m in
the shower or out on the board.”

“I know,” Nicola said. “And you can phone me anytime
anywhere.” Then she wrapped her arms around him and rubbed her hands up and
down his back feeling the muscles ripple beneath her fingers. She knew her arms
would ache for that feeling not knowing when, or if she would ever see him
again.

Danny kissed her tenderly on the lips and unwound her
arms. He took one last look then turned and walked away taking with him the
very essence of her that clung to every fiber of his body–and buried deep
within his heart. He didn’t trust himself to turn round for one last look. 

 Nicola watched as Danny disappeared in the sea of
people milling around the security checkpoint. Her eyes searched the faces hoping
for one last glimpse. But he seemed to have disappeared. Tears ran down her
cheeks as she headed for the door.

Danny stopped and turned in time to see Nicola jostled
her way towards the exit.