by J. D. Griffo
Freddy’s phone pinged again, signaling the receipt of another text from Tambra. “She says look to the left,” Freddy said.
They did and saw Vinny’s police car racing down the runway on the opposite side of the plane. Two cars on either side of a plane all careened down the runway, each trying to outrun the other, but as the Buick’s speedometer crept toward 100 miles per hour, the car started making odd sounds similar to what can be heard in the belly of a ship. White smoke that quickly turned black emerged from underneath the hood, and despite Helen’s foot being pressed firmly on the gas pedal, the car decided it had had enough and started to slow down.
They looked to the left and saw that the police car was still riding neck and neck with the Cessna, but before it could overtake the plane and turn to the right to prevent it from taking off, the plane became airborne.
“L’aereo! L’aereo!” Freddy shouted.
“You mean the plane is gone, Freddy,” Helen corrected. “So’s any chance of us helping Berta and Joyce.”
Rabid, Jinx got out of the car and stormed over to Vinny, who was running his hands through his hair. He was just as angry, and when Jinx confronted him with her own fury, it was like a fireworks display. The wind started to rustle around them and combined with the airport noise it made normal conversation difficult to hear. Luckily both Vinny and Jinx were in the mood to shout.
“This is how you help the citizens of your town!” Jinx exclaimed.
“If the citizens of my town would follow the rules, I wouldn’t have to try and stop a speeding plane from taking off!” Vinny shouted.
“Well, if you did your job right, we wouldn’t have to break the rules!”
“For your information, we have been doing our job!” Vinny bellowed. “We are this close to making an arrest.”
“You couldn’t make an arrest if somebody committed a crime right in front of your face!”
Vinny looked at Tambra, Helen, and Freddy, who were all standing around watching the confrontation, in disbelief. Sometimes his job was easy and other times it was like today.
“We’ve been looking into Owen and Veronica’s business relationship with the Rizzoli family and Third Wheel, Inc., and had you told me that they were flying to Texas more than ten minutes before takeoff, I could’ve hauled them in for questioning,” Vinny said. “We also know that Umberto Bottataglia is connected to Third Wheel, and although he’s been in jail for several months, we’ve been investigating some dirty cops at Riker’s to find out if he could have possibly escaped.”
Jinx opened her mouth to speak, but Vinny closed it for her.
“Shut up and let me finish!” he cried. “We also know that Inez Rosales’s murder is linked to Teri Jo’s and Dominic’s, because when I talked to Inez’s sister Gabi, she showed me the card you gave her. The real question is when are you and your family going to trust me and my police officers and stop trying to do this all on your own?”
“When are you going to trust us enough to bring us in on your investigations from the very beginning?” Jinx asked. “Not just when you’ve hit a brick wall.”
“Enough!”
Helen’s cry was stern enough to make Vinny and Jinx stop their argument and clear their heads. The wind was getting even stronger, so Helen grabbed Freddy’s arm for support.
“Three people are dead, Sloan is in a coma, Alberta and Joyce are on a runaway plane, and all you two can do is argue?” Helen said. “You make the Catholic Church look like a well-oiled machine!”
Shaking his head and throwing his hands up in the air, Vinny replied, “We’ll continue this discussion later, but for now we have work to do.”
“Boss, I’ve already alerted the Rusk County Airport in Henderson not to let anyone off of that plane,” Tambra said.
“Good work,” Vinny said. “Now all we have to do is pray that plane lands safe and sound.”
* * *
“Did I see a car on the runway?” Veronica asked.
“I may be blind, Veronica,” Owen said, “but you must be seeing things.”
“Joyce, what about you?” Veronica asked. “Did you see a car on the runway?”
Joyce not only saw one car, but two, on the runway. She decided, however, that it was best not to reveal that information, considering who her travel companions were.
“No,” she replied. “I always close my eyes during takeoff and say a little prayer, just in case.”
“Because, Joyce, you are a wise woman,” Owen said. “If only the rest of your gender were your equal.”
“Like you would know anything about women, Owen,” Veronica sniped.
Ever since she’d arrived at the Tranqclockery earlier, Veronica had been trying to contain her foul mood. Trapped on the plane, she had given up any attempt to be polite, cordial, or cooperative. She wanted to be anywhere other than in a plane the size of a tour bus, flying thirty thousand feet in the air with people she obviously did not like.
Thanks to her career in a male-dominated industry, Joyce could spar with the best of them, and if she chose, she could take Veronica down with a few choice words, but she needed to maintain the illusion that she wasn’t taking sides. She wasn’t Team Veronica or Team Owen, she was Team Alberta all the way. And Joyce needed to bide her time until she could unlock the crate to free Alberta without creating any suspicion. Since the interior of the plane wasn’t much larger than Alberta’s kitchen, it was not going to prove easy. What she needed was some help, but it appeared, for the moment, that she was on her own.
Until Mother Nature stepped in.
Without warning, the plane dipped as if the sky had parted underneath them. They couldn’t tell if the plane descended two feet or twenty, but it felt like they were about to plunge back down to the ground. Just when the plane started to gain altitude, it shook from side to side. The contents of the overhead cabinets were jostled, but the cabinets themselves remained closed.
Joyce turned around and saw that even though the crate had been propped up against the back wall and was secured in place with a bungee cord fastened to hooks on either side of the crate, it was still teetering like a metronome. She cringed to think that Alberta was getting banged up inside and was about to get out of her chair and run to the crate before her sister-in-law broke an arm or got a concussion, when the turbulence stopped as suddenly as it started.
Immediately, Veronica complained about this being the worst plane ride of her life, when she was cut off by the pilot’s voice coming over the intercom.
“Sorry about that takeoff, Mr. O’Hara,” the pilot said. “There’s a storm directly in front of us, nothing too serious, but we are going to experience some more turbulence.”
“That’s alright, Eugene,” Owen said. “I know that we are safe in your hands and you’ll get us to our meeting in one piece.”
“Like hell he will!” Veronica shouted. “Turn this plane around, Eugene, and do it now!”
“Ignore the shrieking banshee, Eugene,” Owen said, a smirk on his lips. “You’ve been given your orders, now do as you’re told.”
“Oh my God! You treat everyone like they’re a possession!” Veronica yelled. “After all these years, you still don’t know how to treat a person like a human being!”
Owen’s smirk grew into a smile and he patted Joyce’s hand. “How she prattles on. Maybe she’ll jump out of the plane so we can talk in peace.”
Joyce watched as Veronica headed toward the cockpit, and knew this might be her only chance to free Alberta.
“Excuse me, I need to use the ladies’ room before we get tossed around again.”
With one eye on Veronica pounding on the cockpit door, Joyce unhooked the bungee cord from its hook on the wall and quietly placed it on the floor. She then took out the piece of paper with the combinations to the locks printed on it and started to unlock one of the three padlocks.
“Are you alright, Berta?” Joyce whispered.
“I’m fine, but what the hell is going on?”
“Veronica is throwing a tantrum and Owen seems to be enjoying the show even though he can’t see a thing,” Joyce replied.
She finished entering the three numbers, pulled on the padlock, and opened it.
“One down!”
“Hurry up, Joyce, I think I’m developing claustrophobia,” Alberta said.
“Hold on, only two more to go.”
On the other side of the cabin, Veronica was just as determined to get into the cockpit as Joyce was to get Alberta out of her crate.
“Eugene! I will break this door down with my bare hands, and if you don’t think I can do it, you’re in for a rude awakening!”
Veronica continued to pound on the door and scream wildly until the door opened to reveal Eugene standing there. He pulled the door open so abruptly, Veronica fell into his arms.
“Sorry, Berta, we got company,” Joyce said. “I have to try later.”
Joyce walked back toward her seat and watched the altercation between Eugene and Veronica. She quickly realized that if Eugene was arguing with Veronica, there was no one at the controls.
“Pardon me, but who’s flying this plane?” Joyce asked.
“I have it on autopilot,” Eugene replied. “We’re perfectly safe, but, Veronica, I must insist you get back to your seat and stop banging on the door or I’m going to have to restrain you.”
“Are you kidding me?!” Veronica shouted.
Alberta grabbed her head and wanted to pound it on the crate. This was not how the plan was supposed to go. They were not supposed to be in midair. She was not supposed to be locked in a crate. When was she going to learn that she couldn’t control everything? And when did she get such a big ego?
Standing in the darkness, hopeless to escape without outside help, Alberta had time to think, and she wasn’t pleased with herself. Why didn’t she present her thoughts to Vinny? Lay out for him all the clues that she and her family followed that had brought her to her conclusions? Was she hungry for attention after decades of living in the shadows? Had she allowed her own growing notoriety to become more important than bringing criminals to justice and righting the wrongs done against innocent victims?
She promised herself that once she got out of this crate and this plane, and was back in her kitchen with her family, where she belonged, she would do better. Until then she had to do something to end this nightmare. She just had no idea what that something was going to be.
“Veronica, will you please shut up!”
Owen’s cry appeared to be the figurative slap in the face that Veronica needed to end her verbal tirade. She remained silent long enough to be thrown against the wall when the plane hit another pocket of turbulence, this time much more severe and longer than the first. Joyce managed to grab hold of her seat, so when she fell into the window she only slid down the wall and wasn’t tossed violently across the plane like Veronica was. Alberta wasn’t so lucky.
The crate banged into the bathroom door and then the wall a few times before hurtling forward and crashing to the floor. The landing was so rough it broke the hasp and staple at the top of the crate, releasing the padlock’s hold. With the top two locks removed, Alberta was able to lift the back of the crate and crawl to freedom. She didn’t care that the plane was still jerking back and forth—it could act like the inside of a washing machine all the way to Texas. All she cared about was that she was no longer trapped in darkness.
“Alberta!” Joyce cried. “Thank God.”
The women crawled toward each other and embraced. They held on to each other even after the plan was flying smoothly again and didn’t let go until they heard Owen’s voice.
“Alberta? What in the world are you doing here?”
“Can I interest anyone in a grandmother clock?” she said.
Owen turned toward her voice and repeated his question. “Did you stow away on my plane?”
“Yes, Owen, with Joyce’s help I did just that,” Alberta replied.
“If you wanted to come along as my guest, I would have gladly allowed it,” Owen said.
“I doubt you’d be so accommodating if you knew why I was really here,” Alberta said.
“Why is that?” Veronica asked.
She struggled to stand up, but finally did. Leaning against the wall of the plane to steady herself, Veronica wiped blood from the gash in her forehead and absentmindedly smeared it on her dress. She made the action look natural, and it reminded Alberta of a waitress wiping kitchen grease on her apron, a waitress like Teri Jo.
“To tell the murderer that I figured out this whole mystery,” Alberta replied.
“I think that can wait, Berta,” Joyce said.
“We’ve waited long enough, Joyce,” Alberta said.
“We can wait a little longer,” she insisted.
“What could possibly be more important than this?” Alberta asked.
“Finding someone to fly this plane,” Joyce said. “The pilot’s been knocked out cold.”
CHAPTER 26
Nascondersi in bella vista.
Sprawled out in the narrow aisle of the cockpit was Eugene Dalrymple. He was hard to see because the door was halfway closed and only remained open because it kept hitting his foot. For the moment, the Cessna was flying itself.
“Dammit, Eugene!” Owen shouted. “I command you to fly this plane.”
“He’s unconscious, you idiot!” Veronica yelled.
“Wake him up,” Owen said. “Pour cold water on his face, kick him, do whatever it takes to revive his uncooperative body, or else we will eventually run out of fuel and crash. From what I’ve read, it is not a pleasant death.”
“It can’t be any worse than being stabbed in the back!” Veronica shouted.
“Basta!” Alberta cried. “Owen’s right, we have to revive Eugene.”
Joyce ran to the small kitchen area located behind the seats and turned on the cold water. As it ran she rummaged through the cabinets underneath the sink and found some glasses. She filled two of them with water, ran to Eugene, and threw the water in his face. He didn’t respond.
“Wake up, you bastard!” Veronica screamed while kicking Eugene in the leg.
“Stop! You’ll hurt him,” Alberta said.
“He’s half dead,” Veronica replied. “How can I hurt him any more than he’s already been hurt?”
Joyce refilled the glasses and once again threw water in Eugene’s face, but he still didn’t respond. None of them were doctors, but they all knew he was unconscious and he was going to stay that way for several hours.
“Eugene, if you don’t get up right now and fly this plane, I’m going to garnish your wages!” Owen yelled.
“I can’t believe anyone so stupid could be a murderer,” Veronica said.
“Must you always speak nonsense and lies?” Owen asked. “I’m not the murderer, you are. Isn’t that what you’ve come to pronounce, Alberta?”
“One of you did commit all three of those murders, and I’ve figured out how and why,” Alberta said. “But none of that matters now because we need to gain control of this plane! Unless I’m mistaken, the only one here who’s conscious and a registered pilot is Owen.”
“You would be correct, Alberta,” Owen confirmed.
“Also too, he’s blind,” Joyce said.
“You would also be correct, Joyce,” Owen said. “At least for the moment.”
“You can sit next to me and tell me what to do so I can land this plane safely,” Alberta said.
“What makes you so sure I’ll do as you wish?” Owen asked.
“Because you want to know how I figured out that you’ve been impersonating Umberto Bottataglia for weeks,” Alberta declared. “And how you tried to frame Umberto for the murders you committed.”
“Oh my God!” Joyce cried. “That’s incredible.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Veronica screamed. “Umberto and Owen are nothing alike!”
“Then you admit that you know Umberto too?” Alberta asked.
Veronica’s
eyes widened and her nostrils flared. It was the classic facial expression of someone who got caught saying something they shouldn’t have said. She was about to do something she shouldn’t have contemplated.
She reached under the seat and pulled out a parachute and began putting it over her head. It was obvious that she didn’t know how to securely fasten it to her body, but she wasn’t thinking clearly. All she wanted was to get off the plane.
“I have had enough of this!” Veronica shouted. “I’m getting out of here.”
“Now who’s the idiot?” Owen asked. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m going to jump,” she declared.
Veronica grabbed the door handle on the cabin door, but before she could pull it or start to unlock it in any way, Joyce and Alberta ran to her, each grabbing an arm, and pulled her to the other side of the plane. By this point she was hysterical, and there was only one way she was going to stop screaming and crying. Alberta and Joyce had the same idea at the same time, so Veronica wound up receiving slaps across both sides of her face. The slaps hurt, but they snapped Veronica back to reality.
“I’m sorry,” she said, taking off the parachute and tossing it aside. “I’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”
“Now where were we?” Alberta asked. “Oh yes, Owen was going to be a gentleman and help me turn this plane around so we can go home.”
“I’d rather hear the campfire tale about Umberto Bottataglia and me being one and the same,” Owen added.
“Don’t twist my words, Owen,” Alberta advised. “I didn’t say you two were the same, I said you’ve been masquerading around town as Umberto. Nascondersi in bella vista. Hiding in plain sight.”
“I know what it means, Alberta,” Owen hissed. “I’ve been around the Eye-talians most of my life. Now if someone would help me into the cockpit, I’ll try to prevent us all from dying an agonizing, fiery death.”
Joyce grabbed Owen’s arm and followed Alberta into the small compartment, careful to step over Eugene, and helped Owen sit in the chair next to Alberta. Joyce stood behind Owen, and Veronica hovered in the aisle. They were desperate to hear how Alberta came to the startling revelation that Owen was impersonating Umberto while Umberto was incarcerated in Riker’s Island, but first they needed Owen to teach Alberta how she could impersonate a pilot.
