Order of the Air Omnibus: Books 1-3 (54 page)

"There he is." Lewis was rubbernecking, and Alma looked around to see Jerry coming up the back steps from the pool terrace toward the house, leaning on his cane on the slick steps. He raised a hand. "Jerry! Over here!"

Jerry came up and stopped to clean his glasses with his handkerchief. "What's going on?"

"Somebody cracked Henry's safe," Alma said. "And of course Mitch found it, so he and Henry are talking to the police. Where have you been?"

"Hiding from that dreadful woman," Jerry said. "Do you see her?"

"What woman?"

"The Russian Countess," Jerry said. "She's horrible. She cornered me out by the Terrier and practically ripped my clothes off."

Lewis blinked. "She what?"

"Came on like a tiger," Jerry said, his voice dripping with annoyance. "I've been dodging her ever since. What in the hell is wrong with some people? I'd never even met her before."

Alma frowned. "No offense, Jerry, but why in the world would she do that? Women don't generally just go around throwing themselves at strangers like that."

"I don't know. I went out to check on the Terrier, and there she was like a lioness lying in wait to stalk me! She's a nut!"

"Out by the Terrier," Lewis said flatly, and Alma knew he was thinking the same thing she was, only a moment sooner.

"Where is she now?" Alma asked.

Jerry put his glasses back on. "I don't know. I've been hiding in the pool house."

"The Terrier," Lewis said. There were a hundred reasons why someone might sabotage the Terrier. There were 25,000 of them.

"Hey wait!" Jerry called as she and Lewis took off for the Terrier at a run.

Chapter Five

"
S
o let me have this again, Mr. Sorley," the detective said. "You and Mrs. Patton came in here and saw that the safe had been disturbed. What did you see that made you think that?"

Well, not that the wards were down, Mitch thought. "The picture was ajar," he said. Of course now the picture was taken down entirely, lifted out of the way by Henry when he opened the safe.

"So you knew the safe was there?" The detective looked at him keenly.

"I've done some business with Mr. Kershaw in the past," Mitch said. Of course it hadn't involved the safe in this house, but how would the detective know that? Beatrice glanced at him sideways, and he hoped it was to keep their stories straight. No clairvoyance, no wards, no hocus pocus at all — just a nice clean story about nice normal things. "I saw the safe then and I knew he kept cash in it."

"I see." The detective gave Mitch a calculating glance. "Mind telling me what kind of business?"

"Not at all," Mitch said easily. "A couple of years ago Mr. Kershaw received some threatening letters. Not anything signed, not anything he could take to the police, but threatening letters concerning the launch of his airship, the
Independence
. He hired me and a couple of colleagues to ride along on the ship's maiden voyage and keep an eye out." He shrugged modestly. "Turned out it was a good thing."

The detective put his head to the side. "Why you, Mr. Sorley?"

Mitch put on his best self-effacing look. "Well, I'm a pretty fair aviator. I've known Mr. Kershaw since the war. We served together at the front, and I reckon he thinks I'm reliable. I landed
Independence
after it was sabotaged, and I expect that has to do with why he's sponsoring me in the air race." Which all followed. Nothing he said wasn't true. It just wasn't the whole truth.

The detective nodded over his notes. "So you're the ace on the team that the paper was talking about."

"You didn't mention you were an ace," Beatrice said.

"I don't like to brag, ma'am," Mitch said with as much Southern charm as he could manage without overdoing it. One of her eyebrows twitched, but she seemed to accept that at face value.

"So you saw the picture ajar," the detective said. "Then what happened?"

"Mr. Sorley said that something was wrong because there was a safe here. He told me to stay here and not to touch anything while he went to get Mr. Kershaw," Beatrice said.

"How long was he gone?"

"Perhaps five minutes," Beatrice said. "I didn't touch the picture."

The policeman who had been dusting for fingerprints looked around. "She's telling the truth about that, boss. No prints on here but Mr. Kershaw's."

The detective shrugged. "So they wore gloves."

"A woman then," Beatrice said. The detective glared at her. "It's a very warm evening. None of the men are wearing gloves."

"Save us from middle aged female amateur detectives," the policeman muttered.

"Anyone can put on a pair of gloves, ma'am," the detective said.

"Listen," Mitch said. "I've told you everything I know. Any chance I could get out of here? It's nearly midnight and I've got a race to fly tomorrow."

The detective nodded. "Ok. But you need a pat down before you leave, same as all the other guests. Whoever grabbed this thing is probably thinking they can walk out with it." He looked at Beatrice. "We've got a policewoman to do a pat down of all the ladies."

"Of course," she said.

By the time they got back to the front hall the crowd had thinned, about half the guests queued up to be searched before they left. Some of them were protesting, but most seemed to find the detective work an exciting feature of the party.

"Well," Mitch said. "It's been a pleasure meeting you."

"And you," Beatrice said. "I hope we'll have a chance to talk more some other time."

"So do I," Mitch said. "But now I'd better find my team and see if we can all get some shut eye."

"Good luck in the race!"

"Thank you," Mitch said, and started hunting for the rest of them. For that matter, where was Henry?

He found them all out on the lawn clustered around the Terrier, and for a moment his heart skipped a beat. Nothing could be wrong with his plane. Nothing.

"...we need to get gassed up and out of here right now," Alma was saying to Henry.

Mitch took the last yards at a dead run. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, as far as we can tell," Lewis said. He'd climbed up on the fuselage to check out the rudder control surfaces, his black tie gone and his hair mussed out of its slicked back Valentino style.

"As far as we can tell," Alma said. "But Henry, you know as well as I do that we can't see a damn thing out here! It's dark."

“So taxi her back over to the hangar,” Henry said. “You can look her over there, the shop’s certainly good enough.”

“I will,” Alma said. “I want to make sure she’s airworthy. But then we’re flying down to Grand Central.” She held up her hand, forestalling Henry’s protest. “No offense to you or your people, Henry, but I know they’re keeping a close eye on the competitors’ hangars.”

Henry seemed inclined to protest, but Mitch ignored him. "What happened?""Nothing," Jerry said shortly, leaning on his cane. "But there was a strange woman hanging around the plane, and then it was entirely alone while everyone was hunting for Henry's damned necklace in the house. Alma thinks some other team may have tried to sabotage it."

"Might have," Alma said impatiently. "Might. We've done a cursory search and there's nothing amiss, but I can't break the engines down in the dark or get a good look at the fuel lines. If someone wanted to bring down an airplane or get us out of the race, that would be the way to do it."

"I don't see anything wrong right now," Lewis said. "But it's hard to tell in this light."

“We were going to fly out before dawn anyway,” Alma said, to Henry. “Grand Central will like us better coming in late rather than early, and we’ll know it’s secure with the race authorities watching it. And I can go over it with a fine-toothed comb.”

"We'll go over it," Mitch said, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Nothing could be wrong with the Terrier. Nothing he couldn't fix.

Henry nodded. "Ok," he said. "Maybe the whole necklace thing was a diversion. And if that’s true, then I need to take a hard look at my people. That's some big money riding on the race, especially when you figure in the whole publicity angle. I sure don't want my plane having to bow out."

"My plane," Alma and Mitch said at the same time.

Henry grinned, though he looked tired. "Your plane, kids. Just promise me you’ll be sure the fuel lines are clear before you take off?"

“Absolutely,” Alma said.

“Then I’ll call Grand Central and tell them to wait up for you,” Henry said.

"Perfect," Lewis said, starting to climb down.

"Not you," Alma said. She reached up and took Lewis' hand as he slid down onto the wing. "Somebody's got to be fresh to fly the first leg tomorrow. You stay here at Henry's like we'd planned, you and Jerry, and get a good night's sleep. Mitch and I will take the Terrier apart. We can nap when you're flying tomorrow."

"I thought Mitch was going to fly the first leg," Lewis said. He looked at Mitch. "It's your baby."

"You can fly it," Mitch said, and it only gave him a little twinge to say so. "I'll take her apart tonight. I can fly the third leg, the one you were supposed to fly."

"Ok." Lewis gathered Jerry into his gaze. "Then we'll hit the sack."

Henry started off toward the house, calling for Miss Patterson, and Alma dusted her hands off on her ink-blue evening gown. She gave Mitch a rueful smile. "Every time I wear this dress, something strange happens."

"Leave it at Henry's," Mitch said. "It's already been in one air crash. No need to jinx us."

I
t was a long night. It hadn’t taken long to be sure the Terrier was at least safe for the short hop to Grand Central, or to follow the tower beacon in to a safe landing, but after that had come the niggling job of making sure there was no more subtle sabotage. By five Mitch was scrubbing his eyes as he made one final check of the rudder controls. Perfect, just like everything else they'd looked at. Alma looked as tired as he did, lip rouge long since worn off, dark circles under her eyes. "I can't find a thing," Mitch said, climbing down and coming over to her.

Alma nodded. "I haven't found anything wrong either." She gave him a wan smile. "Probably I just kept us both up all night for nothing."

"Not for nothing," Mitch said. "If somebody had sabotaged the Terrier.... I don't even know."

"I do," Alma said. "If something went wrong tomorrow, when we're over the desert..."

"Today," Mitch said. "The race starts in three hours."

Alma sat down in the doorway, her legs out before her. "Not much point in trying to go to bed now."

"Henry will be here soon, and there will be a million reporters." Mitch stretched, trying to unkink his back. "But Lewis had a good night's rest. That was a smart move. He can get us through the first stage."

"There are already some fans outside." Alma glanced toward the hangar doors.

A couple of dozen people were milling around in the growing light, hardcore fans who wanted to get the best places, or maybe to get a glimpse of crews and planes preparing. Most of them were men, but Mitch caught sight of an angular brunette in black trousers who was reading the posted information with interest. High cheekbones softened by finger waves, with the kind of smile he liked...

"Mitch?" Alma waved her hand in front of his face. "I asked if you wanted to go get a cup of coffee. Henry's guys can watch the plane and they're not about to let anyone monkey with the engines."

"Sure," Mitch said. He was not quite falling down tired, but some coffee would be a good thing. "Let's do that." He put his arm affectionately around Alma's waist as they went out, just in time for a flash to go off in his face. "Aw crap," he said as the reporter smirked. "Mrs. Segura stumbled."

"If you say so, buddy." The reporter danced back out of their way, camera in hand. The brunette fan gave him an arch look.

"I hate these reporters," Alma muttered.

"We'll lose them in the air," Mitch said. Dawn was coming. It wouldn't be long until takeoff.

L
ewis hopped out of Henry's car at a quarter until six, Jerry making his way more sedately behind him. Though the sun wasn't yet over the horizon there was quite a crowd around the entrance to Henry's hangar, twenty or thirty people milling around while Henry's mechanics chatted with them. Inside, the Terrier stood under big work lights. Everything looked ok from where he stood.

Alma was drinking coffee out of a paper cup by the wing, and Mitch was glancing over the weather report spread between them.

"How's the Terrier?" Lewis asked.

"Fine," Alma said. "Mitch and I can't find anything wrong. We've been over her thoroughly, and she looks ok to us."

"Good as new," Mitch said. "Better than new, if we can make her that way." He looked tired but like he was getting his second wind. He'd probably spent as many early mornings on the flight line after a sleepless night as Lewis had, during the war. Of course that was more than ten years ago, and both of them were closer to forty than twenty now.

"Good to hear," Lewis said, walking around the back. Everything looked trim and shipshape. Even the paint gleamed.

Mitch reached down and latched the exterior luggage hatch. "We're ready. And it looks like the weather's going to be just about perfect for the first leg. A hot start and a fast pace."

"I'm game," Lewis said.

"Did they ever find Henry's necklace?"

Lewis shook his head. "The police found the box in the bushes by the pool but no necklace. They searched all the guests but I guess somebody smuggled it out somehow." Lewis dropped his voice. "Unless Henry snitched it himself and hid it somewhere and it will turn up in a day or so."

Mitch looked shocked. "Why would he do that?"

"Publicity." Lewis shrugged. "That's what some guy at the party last night said."

"I don't think so," Mitch said. His voice was also low. "Why would Henry break his own ward? The police wouldn't know the difference. He could just not ward the thing."