Final Turn: A story of adventure, intrigue and suspense. (9 page)

Sam welcomed Phyllis into the gazebo. The warm summer sun filtered through the overhead latticework leaving behind most of its strength. The air was cool and dry where they sat sheltered from the wind. Just enough of the breeze played with the vines covering the outside walls to create a gentle rustling that masked harsh noises from the street. Occasionally a cotton cloud would hide the sun and disclose a hint of coolness in the breeze, a reminder that the wind was not long since in the snows of the mountains. Sam had a fleeting thought of Roger sitting in his office, fretting over the excellent soaring conditions going to waste. It had not been wise on the part of the Lindquist to give Roger an office from which he could see the sky. No one would ever know how much of Roger's time that would cost the company.

Sam watched from a wicker chair as Phyllis settled onto the couch. She was glad Roger wasn't there; he would be making jokes. Still, it was remarkable that a woman could be that large, and still attractive. Shadow lay in the corner, watching and deciding if he should come to lie on someone's feet. A glance his way would instantly be taken as an invitation. Sam kept her eyes on Phyllis. She was impressed listening to Phyllis. Phyllis knew her business well enough and had done a thorough job of researching information about the Grawitz family. She had generated a skeleton family tree of Grawitz' history just from the military records to which she had access. That was far more than Sam had expected. It had been a wise choice to involve her. There was a lot to be done yet, but now Sam had enough information to take the family history back over two hundred years.

Phyllis also reported on the court martial incident because Sam had finally decided to call and ask Phyllis to include that in her report. There had been an accusation against a Grawitz in the British army several generations back. It had been refuted in a court martial and the man had been acquitted. Phyllis had managed to recover information that would have been impossible to obtain by anyone outside the system. Sam was impressed. Phyllis gave the definite impression that she had pulled a few strings that she just as soon not discuss. Sam didn't press it. There clearly seemed to be a protocol to a military court martial that one would have to come to understand in order to get at the facts.

Then it occurred to Sam that Phyllis might be able to dig out some information about the Lindquist court martial that the curator at the museum had mentioned to her. It seemed like it would be little trouble for her. She gave what particulars she had to Phyllis. Sam rejoiced in the cleverness of having done this. It seemed very possible that Phyllis could quickly uncover more about this curious situation than Sam ever could do on her own. She held an expectation that there would be something very interesting and perhaps revealing forthcoming, about Lindquist and perhaps about Jack.

Sam again reminded Phyllis of her desire to learn more about the court martial involving Jack Fischer and Lindquist. With that Phyllis rose, Sam followed her out to the gate with Shadow pawing his furry self along behind.

It was six thirty and the place was dead. The suburban crowd had abandoned its workplace and scattered to the four corners of the city. The inner city streets lay bare but for the few who inhabited the expensive apartments on the fringes of the city core. Those expensive apartment blocks offered easy access to the city, easy access to nothing but work. The inhabitants were desperately trying to bring life to a city that didn't want it. Even the city council had tried to breathe life into the streets after dark by building outdoor malls, small parks and adding art to the streets. They too had been resisted and conquered. The weather had beaten them. In the winter, the cold beat them. In the summer, when any reasonable person expects that people would want to be outside on the streets in the evening, it was the wind. The wind would not leave anyone alone. It swept the place clean of anyone who might bring humanity or life to the streets. It did not allow outdoor restaurants, it forbade outdoor shops, it blew away anyone who stopped or even hesitated. It had conquered even the most staunch, the most hardy. It had won and the place was dead.

Roger had to walk five blocks from his office building to meet Loretta. He passed the entrance end of the ramp into the bank where the armored car robbery had taken place. It had become a studied site. From his office window he was able to watch the police come and go for days after the robbery. They had been on the pavement on their hands and knees looking like Sherlock Holmes. There had been photographers, reporters, and many curious bystanders. The newspapers had carried little more information and that made Roger suspicious. Perhaps there had been a great deal of money involved. The bank would not want that generally known. He wondered how the bank would make up that money, likely they were insured. Roger wondered if insurance companies were insured. He passed through the next intersection, entered the real estate office complex and took the elevator to the penthouse floor.

Loretta had allowed enough room between her chair and the small round table so as not to block the view of her long sculptured legs. Her legs had taken up a posture out of an advertisement for women’s hosiery. The line of tiny silver diamonds decorating her stockings fell curvaceously into the muscle line of her calf, turned abruptly at her bent knee and drew the eye to the hem of her short white dress. She sat erect, her back asking nothing of the chair, her rump forcing the chair to meet its form. Her impossible wasp waist, encased in a wide black belt, gave base to her bosom that complimented rather than stole attention from her legs. A slender golden chain suspended a large black pearl framed in a small oval opening in her dress where cleavage might have been. She sat with a practiced, studied look; a look waiting to be noticed. Roger guessed that she had seen his approaching reflection in the window and poised herself. He would never complain of Loretta poising for him. The light was soft and Loretta seems relaxed, like she had been there for hours. He pulled the other chair free from the table and so as not to waste the view.

"Hi, Loretta. I hope I am not early. I know you had a meeting with Jack earlier."

"Not at all! Great timing. I meet with Jack downstairs and came up here to wait for you. How are you? You look fit and great!"

"You too Loretta. I wanted to get together and get a better idea of what's happening in the real estate market..."

"I know, Jack did tell me that you were disappointed with the investment club's choice."

"No, not at all. That is still a good thing. I consider that something for the long term. I am more interested in something else. Jack was saying something about Hong Kong companies buying land."

"Yes, well Roger, everyone hopes for those deals. They weren't interested in the land the investment club has anyway. It was offered to them."

"Do you deal with them like any other client? Do they have people in local offices or do they make special trips out here?" Roger asked. He hoped there still might be some chance that he and Sam could do another deal together.

"Well Roger, we generally deal with agents in Hong Kong who represent prospective buyers, individuals or corporations. They keep us apprised of what they're looking for. Usually it is large deals." Loretta sounded as if this was not her regular business.

"I know that Bob Lindquist has sold some property to a Hong Kong firm. He said he did well." Roger noted for her.

"Yes, it does happen. In fact, Jack Fischer also sold his farm to a Hong Kong firm." Roger could see on her face that she was a bit puzzled by that herself.

"A Hong Kong firm. He told me it had sold, but I didn't know who bought it. Did you arrange that for him?"

"No I didn't." Of that she did seem sure. "Jack never told me about any connections he had in Hong Kong. Actually he never said anything about having buyers in mind. He just wanted it listed and then it was gone." She did have a way of betraying her feelings when she was upset, which was not often.

"Didn’t you have any contact with the buyers?" Roger asked.

"There was no time to contact anyone. We only got some pre-listing information out to a few preferred customers. I'm not sure if anyone actually viewed the property. The place sold before the office had it on the regular listings. It was technically not our sale, we hadn't signed a deal with Jack yet. Actually we were still waiting for the assessor's report."

"Waiting for what?"

"For the land assessment Roger. Whenever we list rural property we send out an assessor who surveys the farm. They make a report on the number of acres in bush, in pasture, under cultivation and things like that. They also soil samples and classify of the soil in terms of moisture, salinity and stuff. This is all used to appraise the property, to set its value." She told Roger all this with enough rhythm in her voice that he knew she had told it hundreds of times before.

"And this assessment was done?"

"Oh yes it was done. We just didn't have the report in yet so we didn't complete our listing."

"Who did the assessment?"

"Some local guy. It’s a part time job we give to a local farmer or someone in a nearby town. The best people are experienced farmers. We train them. There's not much work, but they can make a bit of extra money at it. We supply them with the instruments as well."

"Instruments?"

"They take a device for taking soil samples. Like a small posthole auger. These days they are all automatic. It’s all electronic and all the assessor has to do is drill the auger into the ground, press a few buttons and it gives a readout of all the data. It even stores it internally. Later in the office they dump the data out using a standard desktop computer. It’s all very advanced. You should understand that Roger." Loretta understood well enough herself. 

"Do you know when this assessment was actually done?" Roger asked purposefully.

"As a matter of fact I do. It was June 14. I remember because when I found out that the property had sold I made some calls to cancel the work, but it had already been done."

June the fourteenth was the day of the robbery and the day of the strange morning storm at Jack's old farm.
Roger recalled the old lady's description of the 'thing' the man had put in the trunk of his car during the rain. Mrs. Pezack would have been disappointed to know that he hadn't been trying to hide it. There was nothing surreptitious about it. He was just protecting it from the rain. This had been a real piece of luck because now he would be able to find out who this person was. He didn't really want Loretta to know that he had been digging into some unusual events surrounding that day. Yet, he did need that name.

"I might be looking at some rural property myself in that area. Sam and I went for a drive out there. Maybe I should get hold of this assessor friend of yours and find out more about what's good and what’s bad out there." It didn't sound all that convincing but he didn't think it had to be.

"I'm not sure if he can do much for you, but you can try. His name is Edward Hamilton and he lives in Beiseker. You can easily find his number. He's the only Edward Hamilton.”

"I really have to go now. Thanks for the name. I really would like to know more about these Hong Kong deals. If you can find out anything...." They both rose to leave.

"I absolutely plan to look into it. I'll talk to Lindquist as well. There does seem to something there that wants checking. I'll do some of that and let you know Roger."

"Thanks Roger, it’s always nice to see you,” Loretta continued. We must meet again sometime when we're not both so rushed. If we're going to work together we should get to know each other better." She had a molten alluring look that entered Roger's eyes and flowed downward through his body. She touched his hand before he could extend it, denying its meaning as a business handshake. He watched her slither away with the litheness of a leopardess in heat.

It was one thing to dig through documents in a museum and question people whom she didn't really know. To surreptitiously interview a friend; face-to-face, that made Sam nervous. She did believe that she could control her emotional reaction to whatever she might discover but she was more afraid of not being able to conceal her motivations. She could of course just tell Trudy what she had come across while doing some work on the Colonel Grawitz case. She could just tell her that she had spoken to Jack's father at the museum and how he had told her about Jack's court martial and how Lindquist had provided testimony to have the case dismissed. That was perfectly reasonable. It was even true and it made perfect sense.

What did not make perfect sense, and what had sent Sam off to have a covert conversation with Trudy, was that Trudy had never mentioned that she had known Lindquist. She had also never mentioned that Jack had known him before joining EDS. There had certainly been plenty of opportunity. Lindquist was a common boss to both Jack and Roger and he had been to Trudy and Jack's house so there was plenty of opportunity to mention it. Jack must have been just as grateful to Lindquist as Jack's father was. Sam could not explicitly recall Trudy ever mentioning Lindquist to her. It was not unusual for two women to talk about their mates' common boss. Sam recalled Lindquist's presence at the company anniversary party. There had been no communication between him and either Trudy or Jack. The more Sam thought about it, the more she realized there was something here that she would need to understand. Her friendship with Trudy depended upon it. They had known each other for nearly two years now, brought together by the EDS social circle. Jack and Roger had become vast friends; they worked together and played together. Roger had even drawn Lindquist himself into the soaring club. Now she wasn't sure if Jack had appreciated that.

When Sam rang the doorbell, she was still ambivalent about the direct or indirect approach. Trudy welcomed her and led her through the foyer, down the hallway and into the sunroom/kitchen. Trudy was dressed thematically, she always dressed that way. Trudy had a way of capturing an idea with just a few pieces of clothing or accessories in such a way that it didn't really matter what was in between. She wore large round earrings covered with a Scottish tartan design and a small shawl that suggested the same pattern.

It was late afternoon and Trudy suggested that a glass of brandy would be right. She did have a worldly way about her, interesting, yet sometimes seemingly directing attention away from the personal or the intimate. Trudy began talking about some of Jack’s activities. Sam listened and watched, attentive for an opening to get to her subject, whatever it was. Then it came to her.

"It's a shame that you weren't able to go with Jack to Hong Kong." Sam began to steer things her way.

"I suppose I could have. It was really his project, trying to hurry up the sale of his farm land." Trudy sounded a bit nonchalant sipping from her glass. "Jack planned the thing on his own and I wasn't even sure if I was going to be around. As it turns out I was, but by then it was too late to re-do the arrangements."

"He was there for about 5 days, wasn't he?"

"I think it was about five days. I'm sure he stopped somewhere on the way there or on the way back. He knows people along the way. Jack likes looking around on those trips and would have made some enjoyable side excursions." There was no enthusiasm in her voice about Jack's experience, nothing to suggest that they had shared any of it upon his return.

"He must have brought you back something interesting?" Sam asked as personally as she could, leaning forward attentively.

"We've both traveled a lot. I suppose we've kind of grown out of gifts like that." There was neither a hint of regret nor mild apology for Jack in her voice.

Sam knew it was time to throw over the tiller, haul in the sheets and try a different tack. She had never directly asked Trudy about her life with Jack. She really didn't know if they were living together to test the waters or if it was only convenience. They did seem the type who would go out, get married on a weekend, and not say anything until someone noticed.

"You and Jack had really lived quite full lives before you met. Where did you met?" Sam asked furtively.

"Kind of through the military. I wasn't in the military but I came to know of Jack because of my father." Trudy seemed a bit surprised at her own comment. She got up to go towards the kitchen taking both empty glasses with her.

"I didn't know your father was in the military." Sam called out to her.

"He wasn't exactly. He worked for them." She just left it there. "Did you want another drink?" She asked without enthusiasm.

"Yes please, that would be great!" Sam was almost sure that it was not the desired answer but she meant to stay for a while. Sam was beginning to feel the sleuth awaken in her.

"What did your father do?"

"My father was an attorney. He specialized in military law and was often employed by the military or people in the military." Trudy still stood in the kitchen and called out her answer with little warmth.

"Jack knew your father then?"

Trudy returned with the glasses and set Sam's in front of her. She stood to Sam's side with her face turned towards the patio doors. "They didn't really know each other either. Dad worked on a case that involved Jack. It was a bit of a fiasco. But Dad got the problem with Jack resolved. In the end it didn't really matter that much because Jack decided to leave the military right after that anyway. So it didn't matter to his career. And now he's much better off with what he is doing. That's how I came to know him." She said that with a finality which suggested the end of the topic. Sam sat looking into her glass.

"Did Jack and your father keep in contact afterwards?"

"No, not really. The thing was over and my father was killed within a month." Trudy came to sit opposite Sam again. She suddenly looked spent and her voice had been modulated with a trace of anger.

"I'm very sorry. That was not long before you and I met. I really didn't know that you were that close to your grief then. I wish I could have helped somehow." Sam was almost sorry now that she had pushed the matter. Clearly there was still a lot of pain for Trudy.  "What did your father die of?"

"He didn't
die
, he was killed." She said that forcefully. She must have realized how much of her feelings had come through because she quickly rose and went to stand by the glass doors again. "My father was killed in an aircraft accident. He had been flying all his life. Privately, not in the military. He owned his own airplane and flew regularly. He always took my brother and me to California and Mexico on vacations. Even Mom flew with him all the time when she was alive. And she wouldn't fly at all any other way. She was afraid of airplanes. He was a good pilot, a very careful pilot. And he was killed in a stupid accident. Caught in a stupid situation that not even a student pilot would get caught in. He ran out of fuel over the mountains and crashed. Ran out of fuel. My father who had been flying for over forty years and runs out of fuel at night over the mountains?" Trudy's tempo and the energy in her speech had picked up markedly. Sam felt like she had rolled a rock off a snake's pit. She got up to go to Trudy, to offer her some comfort. Trudy stood steadfast, her arms folded in front of her with her glass trembling in her hand. Her gaze was still out the window, well beyond what there was to be seen.

"I'm very sorry. I really didn't mean to pry. You must have been close to your father." She wanted to ask more, to know more, but wasn't sure if Trudy wanted to talk more. Sam had completely forgotten what she had originally been after. This all seemed a long way from any reason why Trudy and Jack never talked about Lindquist.

"Did he really run out of fuel? How would they know for sure what happened?"

"When they found the wreckage there had been no fire. The tanks were still intact and dry. Empty. The wings were sheared off as the plane came down into the trees. They had the empty tanks still in them. The fuselage had dug a hole in the ground and taken my father into it." Trudy brought her hand to her face to conceal her expression and muffle her sobs. She still stood alone turning away from Sam.

"So how could he...?" Sam didn't really know what to ask, to find out how her father could have made such a mistake.

"He didn't. He didn't make a mistake." Trudy knew what the question would have been. She turned with a nervous motion. "He called a May Day as he was going down. He reported his position and that both engines had stopped. He was deep over the mountains on a very black night. Not a chance for an emergency landing with or without engines. He reported that both engines had stopped because of fuel starvation. He did not report that he had run out of fuel."

"But he had run out of fuel.." Sam offered, careful to tone her voice as one seeking an explanation, not making a statement or a judgment.

"He had, but he didn't know that he had. He didn't think he had. You know what that means?" Now Trudy looked directly at Sam. She must have asked that question a thousand times, of herself and of many others. She seemed to be asking it again as if the answer would be clear to anyone, even to someone who didn't know an airplane from a boat. Sam looked at Trudy and could see that Trudy really did expect her to try to answer.

"That means that he knew he put enough fuel in the plane?"

"It means that. It also means that he thought he still had fuel when the engines stopped. He thought the engines had stopped for some other reason. He thought he had fuel because his fuel gauges still told him he did. If they hadn't, he would have reported that." Trudy gave that explanation with an air that indicated it had been thought out thoroughly and would have no flaws in it. Sam thought it told a lot more than was immediately apparent to her. She saw Trudy watching her. Then Trudy decided to try to clarify.

"It seems rather unlikely that my father would forget to put enough fuel in his airplane for a night flight over the mountains on the very flight that the fuel gauges decided to give false readings and indicate fuel when there isn't any." 

Without knowing anything else, that did sound reasonable to Sam. She did not fully understand what Trudy meant by this account of her father's death. The bitterness that had come to the surface indicated that she was not satisfied that everything had been done to explain the circumstances. Where that left the question of Jack's relationship with Lindquist was not immediately clear. Sam hadn't even mentioned Lindquist's name yet. Neither had Trudy. Sam had a sense that she had found something of what she was looking for; she just needed time to recognize it. She felt it would be insensitive to return to her original questions. It could wait for another time. Now it was more important to ensure that her friendship with Trudy remained intact.

"Is there anything else that can be done with it now?" Sam asked.

"Not really. Because of the regular flying he did, Dad was insured for this kind of thing. In order for the insurance monies to be paid we had to agree that the cause of the accident had been properly determined and that we would not re-open an investigation. My brother came out to help with that. That has all been done. Things will just remain as they are.” Trudy spoke with some resignation.

Sam and Trudy sat and finished their drinks. There was nervousness between them. Sam wanted to leave. She looked at Trudy and wondered how much she really knew about Jack, or rather, how much she didn't know.