Paper Wings

by Les Abend

  As he strode into the office, Hart exchanged broad smiles with Donna, the senior staff administrator. Still smiling, Donna shook her head and rose from the swivel chair behind her cubicle.

  “Captain Lindy, don’t even think that you can walk past my desk without giving me a hug!”

  A buxom woman with chocolate skin, wispy highlights of gray hair smattered among black strands, and an ivory smile took a step toward Hart.

  “The thought never crossed my mind,” Hart said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  The two embraced and applied mutual pecks on each other’s cheeks.

  As Hart relaxed his arms, he said, “If you had squeezed any harder, I would have filed a pilot abuse complaint with HR.”

  Donna snickered and replied, “No worries. I’ve got HR on speed dial. Besides, it was probably the best hug you’re going to get all day with your clothes on.”

  Hart grinned. “How are things?”

  Donna said, “Living my dream, Captain Lindy, just like you.”

  “So that must mean you found another job?”

  Donna snorted, tilted her head toward an open office door, and said with a slightly higher volume level, “Fat chance. Besides, if it weren’t for me, the new boss would be a bowl of Jell-O.”

  From the open office door a familiar voice bellowed, “I’m lucky that you know how to use the electric pencil sharpener!”

  “At least I know which end of the pencil to insert!” Donna said with a smirk. She grinned at Hart. “I miss my two favorite check airmen.” She rolled her eyes and looked at the open office door. “I still haven’t got used to the other half of the old team crossing over to the dark side.”

  “Most of us figure the decision was made when he was off his meds,” Hart said with a smile. The banter was helping to relieve his tension.

  Rod Moretti appeared in the door frame, his head shaking as he glanced at Donna. He waved Hart over and said, “Don’t you have something better to do, like jam the printer?”

  Donna snickered, “Already did that.”

  “I’m not surprised. Well, the only remaining task is to let the phones ring and not answer them.”

  “In progress.”

  Rod chuckled as Hart entered the office. He grinned at Donna and closed the door. “Love that woman. She keeps this place sane. Don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  Hart nodded and sat down on the office chair opposite Rod’s desk. The chief pilot shuffled a few manila folders toward the corner of the desk, leaned back in his chair, and clasped his hands behind his neck.

  “Where do you want me to start?” Hart asked. He could feel the tension ooze into the room. He felt awkward. How should he treat an estranged friend that he had known for almost thirty years?

  Rod cleared his throat. “Well…start with the important stuff. How is my crew doing?”

  Hart said, “The worst situation is the captain. I’m sure you’ve got the report. Cracked ribs. Bad concussion. A lot of bruises. A few cuts.”

  “I’m aware of his physical status.” Rod tapped his temple with an exaggerated motion. “Tell me about what’s going on inside his head.”

  Rod genuinely gave a shit. He had a natural ability to separate the wheat from the chaff. Hart nodded and said, “I don’t know for certain about his mental state. The peer support guys did their kumbaya magic. It’s all supposed to be confidential stuff. I don’t get the details.”

  “Don’t need the details. I get it. Just give me your opinion. When our captain gets out of the hospital, will he be able to wrap his head around the whole event, or will he be kissing the dog and kicking the wife?”

  “Can’t say for sure, but it appears that despite a morphine addiction that he blames on the Bermuda hospital staff, he’s managed to harass the head nurse on a regular basis. Perhaps that’s a reflection of his mental health.” Hart’s expression remained deadpan. “In all seriousness, I think our captain will be okay. He and Sully will be competing for media air time as the two greatest aviation heroes of the twenty-first century.”

  Rod smiled and said, “Good.” He glanced at an open folder and looked back at Hart. “I’m concerned about the copilot. He’s got a lot on his plate. The accident. Daughters kidnapped. I offered him a ride home. Our conversation was brief. Not sure how I would react under the same stress, but we need to monitor his situation.”

  “Agreed.” Hart rested an elbow on the arm of his chair and cupped his chin in a contemplative gesture. Should he give Rod all the information? Could he trust his old friend? Probably. But he would have to keep it brief.

  Noting the silence after Hart’s response, Rod asked, “Is there more to Mike Townsend’s story?”

  Hart sighed. His eyes narrowed. “It could get ugly with Mike Townsend.”

  “From what standpoint?”

  “I saw security footage of the walk-around in Port of Spain. Without getting into details, Mike is seen…”

  The conversation was interrupted by the Airport movie theme. Hart leaned to his side and pulled the vibrating iPhone from his pocket. His pulse started to quicken as he viewed the caller ID.

  “Sorry, I’ve got to get this,” Hart said, glancing back at Rod. “It’s Maureen Blackford, the IIC of the investigation.”

  Rod nodded and rose from his chair. He pointed a finger at himself and then the door. It was an offer to have the conversation in private.

  Hart shook his head and motioned for Rod to sit back down, saying, “This should only take a minute.” Hart touched the Talk button and put the phone to his ear. Rod began to re-shuffle papers on his desk.

  “Hello, Ms. Blackford, how can I help?”

  On the other end of the line, Maureen responded, “Ms. Blackford? Really? What’s with the formality?” Two seconds of silence passed. “Whoops. I get it. You’re with someone. I won’t make it any more uncomfortable.”

  “It’s not what you think, Maureen.”

  “No worries. Just wanted to make you aware that the team is transporting most of the significant pieces from the airplane to Washington. We’ll continue with some further analysis under the supervision of the FBI, of course. The cockpit voice recorder and the digital flight data recorder will be transcribed. I have a feeling this will progress quickly, so we should have a preliminary report within a month.”

  “That’s good news,” Hart said, briefly glancing at Rod.

  “We would like to have one of your team members come to Washington and help identify crew member voices and other various sounds picked up by the cockpit area mic. I wouldn’t ask but it is my understanding that the flight’s captain and copilot are still unavailable. Perhaps you would consider accompanying the individual you choose?”

  “Not sure I can work out a trip to D.C., but I’ll initiate a search for a 767 pilot familiar with the crew’s voices.”

  “Are you turning down the investigator-in-charge, Captain Lindy?” Maureen said with a horsey, sarcastic whisper.

  Hart squirmed in his seat and said, “No. I’m just not sure that I could provide any useful services in that area of the investigation.”

  “Witty response, Captain Lindy. I’m thinking of a useful service you could provide right now.”

  Hart ignored the innuendo and said, “Well, let me know your timeline and maybe I can reconsider.”

  Maureen offered a breathy chuckle and said, “I will, Captain Lindy. I will.”

  The connection went silent. Hart looked back up at Rod with an uncomfortable smile that barely moved the corners of his lips.

  Hart said, “The NTSB will be analyzing pertinent airplane pieces along with transcribing the CVR and the DFDR. The FBI still has their hands deep in the mud on this one. It sounds like the investigation process will be moving quicker than normal, however.”

  Rod’s expression became drawn. His eyes narrowed. He remarked, “Good stuff.” His positive words did not reflect the negative tone in his voice.

  Sensing a darkening mood, Hart cleared his throat and said, �
��Well, back to Mike Townsend. It seems that he has aroused some suspicion. As soon as I have something more definitive, I’ll let you know. The big picture at this point is that the engine didn’t come apart on its own. Terrorism. Sabotage. Everything is still on the table.”

  Hart grasped the arms of his chair, started to leverage himself up, and said, “Anything else?”

  An awkward, thick silence permeated the room. Rod stared at Hart for a moment and then shook his head. An expression of disgust had painted itself onto Rod’s face.

  “You haven’t changed, Captain Lindy, have you?”

  Hart considered responding, but words that would be considered full sentences weren’t making it to his lips. Instead, he just sighed, sensing that a hammer was about to fall.

  “Tell me something,” Rod began. “When you took that phone call, were you looking for bragging rights or were you thinking that your clever conversation was so well disguised that I’m enough of an idiot I wouldn’t think you and the IIC are boning each other?”

  Opening his mouth, Hart got out, “Look, I thought this was going to be a civil and professional meeting…”

  Rod dismissed Hart with a wave of his hand. “It might have remained professional. But you brought this on yourself!” Rod pointed at the cell phone still gripped in Hart’s hand. “I offered to leave the room. I thought you were smarter than that.”

  “Look, I came here as a fucking courtesy!” Hart said with a volume level that was barely restrained. “Just when did you and Dr. Ruth partner up to give me advice?”

  With no attempt at hiding a facetious tone, Rod said, “Thanks for coming. I appreciate your efforts.” He paused. “But I happen to be very fond of that woman who tolerates your total disregard for anything that doesn’t involve Hart Lindy. And now you’re at it again. At least you’re broadening your horizons beyond cocktail waitress. Too bad that Cathy hasn’t broadened her horizons.”

  “Thanks for your instant analysis, Dr. Phil.” Hart could feel his pulse quicken. He wasn’t going to lose control, but he couldn’t resist twisting the knife. “And I suppose your ex-wife is a great reflection on your own relationship skills?”

  “Well, it seems that you would have a better understanding of that attribute,” Rod spat out. “After all, you broadened her horizons!”

  “Do we need to go over that again?”

  “Well, explain how you thought it was okay to be boinking your best friend’s wife?”

  “We’ve been down this road. It happened one hundred years ago before you were married…and you already know that.”

  “Sorry. You’re right.” Rod rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I’m supposed to accept the fact that it was okay for you to have maintained a cloak of secrecy until I had to hear about the whole sordid story through my divorce attorney.” He paused. “And you were testifying as a character witness. Now that’s almost comical.”

  “I was the one that had to live with my conscience.”

  “Yup, once again, it was all about you.”

  Hart took a deep breath and said, “Look, if you want to discuss this topic in a civil manner, and perhaps attempt an understanding from my vantage point, just let me know. I promise to be a grown-up if you will. But at this point…” Hart said, standing and waving his arms around the office, “…and in this venue, I’m done.”

  Nodding with a final glare directed at Rod, Hart reached for the door.

  Rod said, “Just a minute, Captain Lindy. Before you leave in a huff, I have one more piece of professional business.”

  Hart held a hand on the doorknob and turned back to face Rod.

  “The VP of Ops has requested a meeting concerning the investigation. I would appreciate if you would accommodate him, although you’re under no obligation. We can have the meeting in the conference room.” Rod smirked. “No guns are allowed. His secretary will contact you directly to coordinate.”

  Hart asked, “Do you have any idea of his agenda?”

  “Not really. Reading between the lines of our brief conversation, it seems he’d like your perspective on the investigation.”

  “You do understand that some information is confidential, even for the VP of Ops.”

  “He is aware.” A moment of silence passed.

  “Is that it?” Hart asked.

  Rod sighed and replied, “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “Nice chatting with you, Captain Moretti.”

  Hart began to twist the doorknob and then stopped. He turned back to face Rod and asked, “What happened with my request for your golfing buddy to watch Cathy?”

  “I called him as promised. He said that he was working on a case and it might occupy his weekend, but he’d pass through Cathy’s neighborhood when he got a chance. Why?”

  “Thanks. That was a big help.” Hart rolled his eyes. “He couldn’t have called a patrol cop to keep an eye on her?”

  Rod opened the palm of his hands and said, “What happened?”

  “Some creepy asshole followed her for part of the day. He may be connected to this whole investigation.”

  “I’m sorry,” Rod replied with a tone of resignation.

  Shaking his head, Hart walked out of Rod’s office. He exchanged glances with Donna as he passed her cubicle. Her face was solemn, her eyes sad.

  “That went well,” Hart said, making no effort at disguising a phony smile.

  09:05 EDT

  The investigation had too many loose ends. Alvarez was starting to consider the need for further assistance. Soon, it would be mostly out of his hands anyhow. Every agency was involved. Broward County Sheriff. Marine Patrol. Coast Guard. FBI. He wouldn’t be surprised if the FAA eventually got their finger in the pie for whatever reason.

  The round-faced detective put his hands on his hips. He glanced at the chalky, white Sea Ray tied up at that Coast Guard dock and then stared back at Tony Cusmano. The Italian guy was still seated on BSO’s Marine Patrol boat. The three white outboard engines sparkled in the morning sun. Cusmano had his arms folded against his chest, his elbows resting on top of an expansive belly. It had been a long night for everyone.

  Alvarez shook his head and walked toward the Marine Patrol boat. He sat down on the dock and slid onto the deck, nodding at the uniformed BSO cop. The cop took a couple of steps back and leaned against the center console helm station. Tony Cusmano peered up at Alvarez with bloodshot eyes.

  With a sigh, Alvarez said, “Mr. Cusmano, I’d like to believe the story that your encounter with the airline pilot’s boat was all just a coincidence. And that you were being a maritime good Samaritan.”

  “It’s the fucking truth, Detective,” Tony said. His voice was gravelly with fatigue.

  Nodding, Alvarez said, “Unfortunately, your prior encounter with the now mutilated boyfriend doesn’t work in your favor. In that regard, I have you potentially involved with two crime scenes.” Alvarez gestured at the Sea Ray. “And at the current crime scene, it appears that we have prints that indicate your buddy was holding the murder weapon.”

  Tony shook his head and said, “I already told you earlier, man. Frankie just picked up the gun for only a second, right after he got on board.”

  “A lot of coincidences, Mr. Cusmano.”

  “Did you check with Blue Water at Bimini? The black dudes at the marina would remember me.”

  “We’re working on that, Mr. Cusmano. It would help if you had some receipts with a time stamp.”

  “I bring cash over there. The Bahamians love cash. I don’t get receipts.” Tony said, his voice raising an octave.

  “You had to buy fuel, didn’t you?”

  “No, it’s too expensive over there. And the Donzi can make the round trip with no problem.”

  “An alibi for Bimini doesn’t help you with the murdered bartender boyfriend on Los Olas. What about that?”

  “I don’t know when the guy was murdered, but I avoid that fucking area. Too many tourists.”

  “I’d love for all this to be a big mistake,
Mr. Cusmano.” Alvarez cleared his throat. “But you’ve got a good motive.”

  Squirming on the bench seat, Tony asked, “What fucking motive?” His voice held a measure of despair with a good dose of annoyance starting to seep through.

  “Maybe after you murdered the bartender, the pilot boyfriend showed up at the wrong place and the wrong time. He could identify both you and Frankie, so you forced him at gunpoint to drive his boat offshore. Your buddy shot him on board, and then you guys continued on to Bimini in your Donzi. And then on your return home, you were surprised when you found the boat still adrift on the way into Port Everglades. Rather than leave anything to chance, you towed the boat into Port Everglades.”

  “Why would we do a dumb-ass thing like that?”

  “The classic case of returning to the scene of the crime, Mr. Cusmano.”

  Tony felt a rumbling in his stomach. He cupped his hands and buried his head for a moment. Tony shook his head, rubbed his eyes, and stared back at the brown detective. He waved his arms, palms up and said, “I think it’s time for me to lawyer up.”

  “That’s fine, Mr. Cusmano, but I’m not arresting you at the moment.”

  “Really?” Tony replied with wide eyes. “Then we’re free to go?”

  “You’ve been watching too many cop shows.” Alvarez gestured his head at the Donzi tied up nearby. “Sure, you can get back on your boat and go home. But if you continue to cooperate, the outcome might be more positive.”

  Hesitating for a moment, Tony looked down at the deck, took a deep breath, and then stared back at the big detective. “Yeah…fine…okay”

  Alvarez nodded at Tony and said, “Good.” The detective noticed that Tom, his impromptu uniformed cop assistant, had reappeared on the Coast Guard dock. He was beckoning Alvarez over to his position. Alvarez said, “I’ll be back shortly, Mr. Cusmano.”

  After hoisting himself off the Marine Patrol boat with a bit of a struggle, Alvarez waddled over to Tom. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, grinned at the uniformed cop, patted his round belly, and asked, “Jenny Craig or a personal trainer…or both?”