The Name of the Rosé

by Christine E. Blum

  The woman at the front desk was being adamant about not letting the seven of us back to where Charlie was being treated. We settled for sending Peggy in first, while we hatched a plan for us to sneak in. Augie went with Peggy, and the cops continued to watch Sally. All that served to do was clean out a couple of guys who were seated in the waiting area and decided their boo-boos weren’t bad enough to risk police attention. Their raw knuckles and swollen faces told enough of the story.

  “I have no chance of getting in there with Beavis and Butt-Head sticking to me like glue,” Sally whispered to us just out of the cops’ earshot. “You’ll have to go in and report back what you saw.”

  “I don’t need to go in either, I’m going to step outside and try Jeb again.” Mary Ann headed for the door.

  “There’s Tom,” Aimee said. “I’m going to walk in with him.”

  That left me, and because I didn’t trust Augie to ask all the right questions, I wasn’t about to miss a chance to talk to Charlie. I looked around the room hoping for inspiration. Beverly Baumgartner, RN, aka Nurse Ratched, at the desk, seemed to read my thoughts and was keeping a close eye on me.

  You get more bees with honey, I heard my mom’s voice say in my head.

  “I’m going to get a water. You want anything?” I asked Sally loud enough for everyone to hear. She shook her head, looking dejected. That was all the impetus I needed to make my way to the gift shop.

  When I returned, I sat back down and waited patiently. Sally looked at me, expecting more.

  A few moments later, a delivery boy walked in with a half-dozen beautifully wrapped red roses. When he announced the name “Nurse Baumgartner” off the card, Nurse Ratched grew excited and signaled to him. That was my cue; I quietly slipped into the treatment area.

  I found Peggy, Augie and Aimee standing outside one of the rooms. The curtain was drawn.

  “He’s getting x-rayed,” Aimee explained.

  I nodded. “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s pretty banged up, but he’s aware of everything going on and he’s the same flirty Charlie that I’ve come to know and love. I’d be surprised if the nurses didn’t file a class action suit.” Peggy was using the light tone to steel her courage.

  “You talk to him yet?” I asked Augie.

  He shook his head. With every odd moan or sudden flurry of activity around us, he seemed to close more into himself. I started to suspect Augie wasn’t a fan of sick people.

  Good to know.

  When they’d finally taken all the photos, blood samples, vitals and scans, we were allowed in to see Charlie.

  “You always did know how to make an entrance,” Peggy said, trying to tame some of his gray Irish curls. They’d first met, Sally once told me, when Peggy and her late husband, Vern, were newly married and enjoyed hosting poker night once a week with the guys from his job. That was short-lived, however, as Peggy would sit in and clean them out.

  “Hey handsome, you up for telling us what happened?” I asked, noticing that Augie had his eyes firmly fixed on his shoes, I’m guessing to avoid seeing the IV needle in Charlie’s arm.

  Needles. Augie’s Achilles’ heel . . .

  “I landed, same as always, it’s a clear, picture-perfect day so no problems whatsoever. But then, once I hit the tarmac, I felt the plane’s wheels run over something and I skidded. I tried to correct for it but lost control and crashed into the hangar. Thankfully, the plane had slowed considerably by then. It could have been a lot worse, but this one’s not getting away that easily.” He gave Peggy a warm smile.

  Peggy, in return, spooned some ice chips into his dry mouth.

  “Are you sure about hitting something? Could it actually have been a malfunction with the wheels or engine?” Augie asked, still not looking at him. “Because when I arrived on the scene, the runway was clear.”

  “I’m positive. There was no mechanical or pilot error!” Charlie was getting worked up.

  “Of course there wasn’t,” I said, “and you’re the best one to know, Charlie. Was anyone from the ground crew there who could help clear this up?”

  “That’s the thing. I found out that the regular guy, Rusty, went home sick earlier that morning. Food poisoning or something.”

  Food poisoning is the classic excuse for playing hooky, I thought to myself. You could always claim it was a twenty-four-hour thing and be back at work the next day.

  “It could have been some sort of critter you hit, and it was well enough to crawl away somewhere. The bones will turn up once the hawks are done with it,” Peggy concluded.

  “What can you tell us about the cargo you were transporting?” Augie was now pretending to study a poster on the wall illustrating the Heimlich maneuver.

  “It was a total last-minute thing. When I checked in at Montgomery Airport in San Diego, there was a note waiting for me asking if I could fly a cooler of seafood to Santa Monica. Someone would pick it up there. I was going through my flight check and had almost forgotten about it when a guy in a golf cart drove up with it.”

  “Did you know this guy?” I asked.

  “No, and I hardly looked at him. It was time to go. I’ve done some back-and-forth deliveries in the past; everybody does. What’s so important about this one?”

  “Tell him, Augie.” This time I physically turned Augie to face him, and he turned sheet white.

  What? Augie needed to see Charlie’s reaction.

  As I expected, Charlie was shocked to learn he’d been flying illegal prescription drugs and narcotics from point A to point B. He insisted he knew nothing more than that the ice chest contained frozen fish.

  “I never even looked inside it. The guy—he was dressed like a waiter or something—loaded it in the back himself. Am I in some kind of police trouble?”

  Peggy got indignant. “He’d better not be. You’ve got nothing, Augie.”

  Augie stared into space and thought for a moment. It was just enough time for me to snoop in one of the supply drawers in the room to find what I needed.

  “At the moment, I have no reason not to believe you, Charlie. You said you didn’t see or know what was in the ice chest. This investigation is just starting. I’ll be in touch if I have any more questions.” Augie turned his back on us, hoping to make a hasty retreat.

  “Then the same needs to go for Sally,” I argued. He looked at me, and horror struck his face. It could have been because I was using a plastic-wrapped syringe to make my point.

  “Yes,” he meekly replied, looking at the wall. “I’ll take my guys and she is free to go. For now.”

  “Thank God,” Aimee said.

  CHAPTER 2

  Spitfire Grill is the local eatery, draft-beer purveyor and wine-tasting venue located at the Santa Monica airport just next to the Museum of Flying. Sally and I were on our way there from the ER to meet her cousin Jimmy and her husband Joe for dinner. Despite the curse Sally had declared, some good news came out of the day: Jimmy got a part-time job working at the museum as a docent. When he’d called and told Sally, her mood immediately picked up.

  “So, I’ve got to ask, you were the one who had the flowers sent to that Nurse Baumgartner in the ER, correct?”

  I gave her my best innocent-puppy look.

  “Oh, come on, and what did the note that came with the roses say?”

  “It said You’re doing a heckuva job! Not that I know firsthand . . .”

  Sally gave a hearty laugh as we pulled into the parking lot.

  The Grill has everything a diner could want: cozy booths, kitsch and lots of local aviation history mounted on the walls. The menu is suited both for someone with a wicked hangover and a healthy-eating-conscious, exercise fanatic. If you know any of those; I don’t.

  Jimmy and Joe were already seated in a booth when we arrived, taking gulps of what looked like Guinness Stout. Jimmy is tall, like his cousin Sally, but not nearly as lean and toned. Too much Chicago deep-dish pizza perhaps.

  Sally’s husband, Joe, is quite an enti
ty on to himself. Whereas Sally will tell you what’s on her mind and do so in a way that forces you to sit up and take notice, Joe is more like the one pale yellow tulip on a hillside of showy reds. You may not notice the flower at first, but when you do, you’re fascinated by how it quietly stands out and dying to find out its story. He is an elegant black man, always dressed to the scholarly nines. Joe earns his living as a tenured philosophy professor at UCLA and watches and listens deeply to everything around him. In some ways, he is the quintessential voyeur, and I love hearing his observations.

  I launched into recounting the twisted events of the day, the package and the drugs. Our server, seeing that we were deep in conversation, quietly left menus and gave us some time. When I finished, it was Jimmy who reacted first.

  “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard a cop try to pull, and I must remind you that I come from Chicago!”

  “Right?” Sally said, making a circle with her index finger along the side of her head. “There’s a village around here missing its idiot. Oh great, I’m starving. Remind me of your name again, dear?” Sally said as our waitress approached.

  “Of course, I’m Britt. I’ve only been here a couple of months, so I don’t expect people to remember me yet.”

  “Well, I certainly will,” Jimmy said, admiring her long chestnut hair and Cupid’s bow smile.

  “This is my cousin Jimmy. Never mind him, he’s actually harmless. And the handsome man sitting across from me is my husband, Joe.”

  “A pleasure to meet you. What brings you to Spitfire, Britt? Do you have aspirations to take to the sky?” Joe asked, subtly digging, which gave me an idea.

  “What? No, the side of my brain that works on math and physics suffers from arrested development, I’m afraid.” She looked at me and smiled again.

  “Hi Britt, I’m Halsey, and contrary to popular belief I am not part of this beautiful family. I am a close friend and neighbor.”

  That got a laugh out of her, and I continued. “You may not become a pilot, but I’ll bet you know everything that’s going on with them since working here? Got any good stories? We’ve been known to reward juicy tidbits with refreshment in the form of fine wines.”

  She got down on her haunches at the head of the table, excited by the conspiratorial challenge I’d laid down.

  “Girl, you have no idea. Some of these guys around here think they’re God. You should hear the bragging and boasting that goes on, especially during happy hour.”

  “You need to come to our wine club meetings; we’re just over on Rose Avenue. Here, write down your cell number and I’ll call you with the specifics,” Sally told her.

  “Thank you, but I don’t always know my work schedule until the last minute,” Britt apologized.

  “Honey, we meet once a week, sometimes more; you’ll come when you can and spill all the salacious details about these airmen.”

  “Did you hear or see the plane that crashed today?” I took over from Sally, who seemed to have forgotten she was a drug-dealing suspect.

  “No, I worked breakfast and had just left. But I heard the pilot’s going to be okay.”

  “We just came from seeing him in the ER, and yes, thankfully, it’s nothing serious. Charlie said his plane hit something on the runway, but when it was inspected, there was no sign of any obstruction. You hear any chatter in here tonight about that? The police claim there were drugs hidden in the cargo of the plane.” I looked around, trying to pick out the pilots.

  “Not so far, but I’ll keep my ears open. You all know what you want? I just tasted the chicken pot pie special in the kitchen and it’s delish!”

  We gave Britt our orders. I’d studied the salads and then opted for the Flying Tiger Burger with bacon, cheddar, and BBQ sauce.

  May I remind you that I’ve had nothing to eat since Wine Club?

  When Britt returned with our drinks, I thought I’d give it one more shot.

  “Hey Britt, you must know the ground crew that works at the airport. We’d heard Rusty went home sick this morning. You know who would’ve taken his place when our friend Charlie landed?”

  She gave a dry laugh. “Rusty, he’s something special that guy. He’s got the temperament of a wild hog. I’ve seen him get cranky just because it’s Tuesday.”

  “He’s a real charmer,” Sally jumped in. “Does he ever get into arguments or quarrels with the pilots?”

  “Not that I know of; he’s more angry at life itself. But you should ask Jonas, his young apprentice. In fact, he probably took over the landings when Rusty claimed he was sick.”

  She said “claimed,” I noticed.

  “I just met the kid,” Jimmy announced. “He said he was working late tonight. I’ll take you over to the museum after dinner and you all can have a talk. I’ve got to pick up my ID tag anyway,” he said, puffing with pride.

  There was no mistaking that Sally and Jimmy were related. Both proudly sported winter-white hair that gave haloes to their faces. Jimmy also had the same aquiline nose and smooth skin, but the dark circles under his eyes told me that he’d had his share of burdens over the years. I hoped the sun and slower pace of Mar Vista would melt those away.

  By the time our plates were cleaned and the last drops of wine were drunk, I could see a weight had been lifted from Sally’s shoulders. I suspected she’d thought, as I had hoped, that this whole thing with Augie would blow over quickly.

  We paid our bill and reminded Britt on the way out that we’d be calling her for Wine Club.

  “I can’t wait. You’re my first friends since I moved up here from San Diego!”

  I pushed the swinging door and felt resistance from the other side. I tried again, and the same thing. I decided to let whoever was on the outside come on in first. It was Mary Ann’s husband, Jeb, and he looked disoriented and out of sorts. We helped him to a stool at the bar.

  “May we have some water for him, please?” Sally asked the bartender. “Let me feel your forehead. Can you tell me what happened, honey?”

  Jeb took a careful couple of sips of water before saying anything. For a big man, he looked awfully sunken and frail. If someone asked, I’d describe Jeb as tall and jolly, likely to burst into song if the mood struck him. Tonight, he looked like a zombie whose spirit had left him.

  “It’s the craziest thing,” he finally said. “I’d driven up to the airport and parked by the observation deck this morning, the sun was out, and I thought I’d watch the planes for a while. I woke up in my car just a little bit ago and I have no idea what happened between the time I parked until now.”

  “I’m calling Mary Ann. Joe, can you drive Jeb home?” I asked. I watched as Jeb, suddenly very thirsty, drained his glass and signaled to the bartender for a refill.

  “Sure can, or should I take him directly to the ER?” Joe asked, examining Jeb with a concerned eye.

  “Good God no. At this hour it’ll be a zoo,” Sally replied continuing her examination of him. “He’s dehydrated, but his pulse is settling down now. Halsey, tell Mary Ann that if he gets any worse, she should take him to urgent care in the Marina. But I think he’ll be okay.”

  I relayed the message, and we all helped him to Joe’s car.

  “I feel much better already,” Jeb said, climbing in. “It’s just so foolish that I can’t remember what happened.”

  “It’ll all come back to you, don’t you worry, honey,” Sally soothed.

  We watched Joe and Jeb drive off.

  * * *

  “That was kind of strange, wasn’t it?” Jimmy asked as we traversed the lawn to the museum next door.

  “I’d skip the qualifier, Jimmy. Plain and simple, Jeb was acting very odd.”

  “I wonder what meds he’s on,” Sally mused. “They may need to be tweaked.”

  We followed Jimmy around the back of the building to the staff entrance. Instead of entering the museum, Jimmy turned right and unlocked another door that led into an adjacent hangar, where the plane restoration was done. The only
light in the place was coming from the far end of the building.

  “Jonas? It’s Jimmy, the new guy you met this afternoon. It’s late; shouldn’t you be knocking off soon?” he said loudly.

  We heard no response.

  “I’ll bet he’s in the flight simulator back there,” Jimmy said to us, heading in that direction. “He was telling me today how he couldn’t wait to get his pilot’s license so he could take off whenever he wanted.”

  Our footsteps echoed in the dark cavern as Sally and I followed closely behind Jimmy. Darkness can make a lot of places creepy, but the shadows and partially illuminated propellers, wings and wheels of these old planes made me think I was being surrounded by decomposing dinosaurs. I finally relaxed when we reached the simulator capsule, but that was very short-lived.

  “Ladies first,” Jimmy said, and I climbed the metal steps to the cockpit entrance. Once my eyes adjusted to the light inside, I could take in the gruesome scene and felt bile rise into my throat.

  “Sweet Jesus!” Sally screamed when she stuck her head in, followed by a deep groan from Jimmy after he did the same.

  Sitting at the controls was a body I assumed was Jonas. It was slumped over, and I could see a trail of white foam had escaped his cracked lips. This told me that his demise had been recent. There was no question Jonas was dead, and given what I’d seen, he was certainly better off.

  CHAPTER 3

  Thankfully, the police department had a whole new crew on at this time of night, so we escaped the wrath and chastisement of Augie. The detective and officers approached the scene and us matter-of-factly, giving no indication we were anything more than innocent discoverers. We were questioned individually, and I was the last to go.