The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3

by Alexie Aaron

  "You wanted it to be a business. I was happy just living off alimony." I smiled at my ex-husband who leaned against the door jamb of the den doorway.

  "If we treat this as a windfall, you'll have to pay taxes on the whole amount but..."

  "Argump!" was all that came out of Harry's mouth before he put a sofa pillow over his head and tried to smother himself.

  "Cin, I think he’s had enough," Luke said with compassion. "Let him go and play. So what's the take?"

  "After expenses and a two way split, about four thousand and change," I said, looking at my figures.

  He whistled. "Nice."

  He had that look of “How about a new grill?” in his eyes. Men, I have found out, always know what to do with money. I believe in rainy day funds, and Luke feels he needs to spend it before the drops hit the ground. I could see I wasn't going to get any help out of his corner.

  "Have you heard from your church buddies today?" Luke asked the pillow-topped Harry.

  The pillow shook “no,” and once again I felt the pleasure of relief course through my body. "No news is good news, I expect."

  "I know that in the past I haven't been that supportive of your activities."

  "Let me jump in here and express that not one 'activity' of the past I wished for or engineered," I voiced.

  "Noted, but I’m amazed that this is the end of it. I'm taking a couple of weeks off till I'm sure this has blown over."

  "You? You never take time off. Now I'm worried. Did you get fired?"

  "The world’s changed. It's taken a giant step towards the dark side. Everywhere I fly there’s tension. Either it’s the hatred of Americans or the tension of waiting for the next bad thing. The economy is bad, and people have lost the innocence of being safe. The military is stretched too far and so are our intelligence units. I understand why your..."

  "Church buddies," Harry filled in.

  "I understand why they don't want to let go of this. That bar Harry went to has a rep of having the best of the best hanging about, chatting about current events, running scenarios, talking secretly about things that concern this country. Between you two and me, I imagine plans have been launched and unpublicized raids have taken place. If these four priests are connected with the others, then they have resources that our local police don't."

  Well that answered the question of where Noelle got her information. I tried to relax, but my body was riddled with anxiety. "Why don't I feel any better?" I leaned back in my chair.

  "Because you can't make it go away. Cheer up, you’ve faced worse things."

  "Like root canals?"

  "Like Manfred, Tobias, Michael Sherborn and Ivana Penny."

  "You forgot Horrible Harry," I reminded him.

  "Hey!" Harry popped out of his self-imposed suffocation.

  "Terrorism is like Harry here. You can go away and hide, but when you return, he’s still here. You think you have everything balanced and calm, but all along he has been scheming, maneuvering, and he strikes."

  "I get the feeling you guys don't like me."

  "Just trying to make a point,” Luke commented.

  "Ouch, rather a sharp point," Harry pouted.

  "Don't take it personally. He uses a raptor scenario to explain Noelle and Alex," I explained. "Consider it a compliment."

  "Have you thought any more about it?" Luke asked.

  "You mean about why these men, if they’re terrorists, are out at Pahokee?"

  "Let's just assume they are terrorists. Now, what are their targets?"

  "In Pahokee? The only thing would be the Lake Okeechobee. You don't think they could blow the dikes?" Harry was sitting upright now.

  "Maybe, but I think that’s too open and too big. Harry, maybe we need to look around a bit out there." I looked at him.

  "Can't, too dangerous. If they’re out at the mill, they know you and I. And you gave away my gun," Harry reasoned.

  "What gun?" Luke asked.

  "Oh, just an unregistered firearm that Harry brought back from Savannah as a souvenir," I replied casually. "I made him give it back."

  Luke glared at Harry, and Harry just smiled. "But maybe we could look around from a safer altitude?"

  "Ah, I see where you're going with this. But who would Harry and I get to fly the plane?" I said in my best Betty Boop impression. "I think I know someone, handsome and dashing."

  "Oh, please, I'm going to be ill." Harry hung his head between his knees.

  "Please don't be ill on the plane or I'll have to throw you out," Luke cautioned.

  At that moment something struck a chord - I think a B minor chord. Anyway, I forced myself to listen to the two of them squabble.

  "Well, I better have a parachute."

  "That's it!" I shouted. "I’ve got a big hunch here."

  "What about lunch?" Harry brightened.

  "No, not lunch, hunch," I said exasperated.

  "Go on, we're listening," Luke encouraged.

  "What's out in Pahokee besides sugar cane and fish camps?" I waited, but no one replied. "Come on, Luke."

  "An airport, too small for a target though. Hell, there are only some trainers out there and..."

  "A jump school!" Harry shouted.

  "Right, let's say that somehow these guys got airborne. What would stop them from venturing towards other targets?"

  "They only jump out there but..." Luke started.

  "This weekend is an air show," I pointed out, "in downtown West Palm Beach, right along Flagler Boulevard, thousands of people."

  "But they would have to be entered. They wouldn't pass the screening," Luke protested.

  "Unless they were taking someone else's place. Harry, you better call the Marx brothers and have them look into who is sanctioned. Meanwhile, I think it is lovely weather for a flight." I held out my hand to my handsome pilot ex-husband. He took it, and we left the room arm in arm, ignoring the retching sounds from the couch.

  Chapter Eighteen

  We walked around the Cessna 210 as Luke inspected this and that. He gave us a mini lesson. I supposed I should have paid more attention, but I tend to have ADD when Luke starts talking about planes. I just can't keep focused. Harry asked intelligent questions, but I wondered if he really understood the answers.

  I was just so happy to be at the airport dressed in touristy clothes and wearing outrageous sunglasses. I had on pink capri pants, a white sleeveless blouse that tied in the front and a baseball hat in which I had secured all but the most wayward curl. Luke had the pilot thing going with blue Dockers and a white short sleeve aviator shirt and aviator sunglasses. Harry did a great imitation of Luke, except his glasses were more surfer than flyer.

  Harry called shotgun, so I squeezed myself in the back and let the boys play Sky King in the front. I'm not too proud to admit that I love trying to spot our house from the air. We live on one of the approaches to Palm Beach International Airport, and when I’m flying, my face is pressed against the window looking for our neighborhood and, yes, our house. This is sometimes to the disgust of the person riding in the window seat beside me, but I don't really care. After all, I’m kind enough to put up with being climbed over for countless trips to the bathroom or having snaps of the grandkids shoved in my face.

  We passed our neighborhood as we traveled west to Lake Okeechobee. Next came Lion Country Safari where for a nominal sum tourists could pack their car and drive through a fenced in area filled with wildlife you would normally find on an African plain. I took my son Alex there when he was younger. He held the video camera while I followed the bumper-to-bumper procession of cars through the maze of the animal habitat. The lions were always last. They lay there and wait for someone to forget to close the gate. Yes, they did get out sometimes. Whenever we saw a helicopter circling the neighborhood west of us, we just assumed that a lion hunt was going on.

  Past the Safari were some rock quarries, sod fields, and then the sugarcane started, miles upon miles of sugarcane boxed in by small and large canals of water.
It looked like a beautiful green quilt of calories. I could see several producing sugar mills in the area as I scanned the horizon. Their gray smoke shot upwards in the sky and joined a dull gray cloud that stretched from mill to mill depending on the wind.

  Luke centered our search on the east end of the lake. The previous year of drought brought the lake level dangerously low. Empty boat docks stretched across mud and sand. The cattails that had overrun the lake due to the phosphorus leaching into it from the north were few in number. I could see the clean outline of the massive dike that surrounded the lake broken only at the boat locks. If there was a terrorists' operation, it wasn't going on in the lake.

  Abutting the outside of the dike was a much-traveled two-lane road. This road came down from the town of Okeechobee to Interstate Seven. Fishing camps and permanent housing broke up the wide expanse of green vegetation that ran along either side of the road. To the east, the cane dominated the landscape. This was mostly US Sugar, a large cooperative that was owned by its employees. It had to compete with the larger farms owned by the cane families from Cuba. Banded together, the average man was just able to eke out a living alongside the lake.

  I remembered Dwayne’s lesson on the migrant workers as I saw small groups of houses and confirmed that many were unoccupied. I wondered when some enterprising developer would bring about another retirement village, call it Jamaican Acres. I figured the present high crime and drug statistics kept that from happening. Belle Glade, a community south of the lake, had the distinction of being the HIV capital of Florida.

  Luke banked the airplane as we lined up for our approach to the small Pahokee airport. The three of us had agreed to behave as we would any other time we landed in a new airport. We would split up and find the amenities, snack machines and get a general look around. If we saw anything odd, we would file it away mentally until we had left the airport. In short, we were a happy family enjoying the day flying to and fro.

  The hot Florida sun beat the tarmac to ten degrees above the air temperature as we landed. The humidity was a nine on a scale of one to ten. My curly hair shortened as the curls wound tighter, nourished by the hot wet air. Once I had pulled myself free of the back seat of the plane, I was off to find the bathroom and, of course, to snoop.

  I had been at the airport before with one of my many jobs of the last twelve years. I was the liaison between the USDA NRCS and some visiting politicians. They had been there from Washington to check out how the country's money was being spent in Everglades restoration. The best view was from the air, a relief to those who had already ridden in an airboat in gator country. Anyway, I pretty much knew the layout and waved at a clerk as I wound my way through some small offices on the way to the bathroom.

  I didn't see anything out of the ordinary in the small airport set up. There were phones for the pilots and areas for the local flight instructors to help their students through ground school. I assumed the office for the jump school must be outside in a hanger or another out building. I stepped into the bathroom, washed my hands and returned to the lobby area.

  Luke was talking to the clerk when I arrived, and I stood there during the usual pleasantries, trying not to let my mind wander. I gazed out of the window wondering how Harry was getting along when I saw a group of men that were landscaping the grounds of the airport. They were mowing and trimming, clothed in loose cotton work clothes and wearing noise-suppressing headsets, which in itself was unusual because of the cost. I wandered outside to get a better look, and the group chose to take five and walk away just as I approached.

  They were quick to move off, but not quick enough because I had already taken in that these men weren't the normal type of worker we in south Florida are used to seeing. The men that worked in my area were thin small Guatemalans. They did beautiful work and were the hardest working people, considering the hot, humid climate that we lived in. I got the idea these men were giving the illusion of being Guatemalan but were rock hard, and their skin color was close, but not close enough. Also, they were doing a crap job.

  I turned on my heel and pretended to be caught up with the landing of a small aircraft. I no longer looked their way, but I could feel their cold hard stares. It wasn't an appraising stare as I was sometimes lucky enough to get from some man with failing eyesight or an Italian. This was of a hunter watching his prey. Needless to say, I walked back and found Luke and enjoyed the safety I felt being with him. Soon after, Harry bounced in, and after a few more pleasantries we headed back out to the plane.

  "If anyone has anything to say, I suggest we hold our tongues till we’re well out of the area," Luke said as he inspected the plane for take off.

  Once safely in the air, it was too loud to have a normal conversation, so I bit my tongue until I could share my information with the others. I did notice Harry noting some things on Luke's sectional map and Luke nodding as Harry pointed them out. It started to get bumpy as the heat from the ground was creating some turbulence, so I sat back and closed my eyes until we started our final approach for Palm Beach International airport.

  Luke let Harry take the landing, and, although there were a couple of moments when I thought that Alex and Noelle would be enjoying their inheritance early, we touched the ground safely. Luke smiled and gave a "good job" pat on the shoulder before taking over for Harry.

  "I wish you would have warned me," I said grouchily as I eased out of the plane.

  "He did fine," Luke said offhandedly, patting a beaming Harry on the back. "Besides, everyone who flies in a small plane better know how to land one."

  "Yeah, yeah, I know. But I at least wanted a little time to square things with my maker."

  "It would take too long to cover your crimes my dear," Luke said and tried to put an arm around me as we walked into the lobby of the group we rented the plane from. I shrugged off his arm. We were no longer acting. I didn’t want the traitor’s arm around me. He rolled his eyes and recommended, "I suggest we get in touch with your friends and talk real soon."

  I turned around. "Harry, call the boys. Tell them it is time for church." Harry pulled out his cell and made the call.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I wasn't quite prepared for the vision that awaited me as I exited the restroom and headed over to our table. The four priests were decked out in a combination of golf and boating clothing while Betty created quite a stir in a floral sundress. Absent was Michael who was still recovering under the watchful eye of his aunt. We had chosen to meet at a Park Avenue Rib restaurant, and Harry snagged us a large round table in the back corner.

  Luke couldn't have been more pleased with the choice of restaurant. Baby back ribs are his favorite. I wanted to point out that this was a business meeting, but he just gave me a look that said, "If I don't get my ribs there will be no meeting." So I gave in.

  After we all ordered and our drinks arrived, Harry recounted what we had seen out at the airport. He substituted the phrase “those guys” for the suspected terrorists, but otherwise he told it the way we saw it.

  "So you headed over to the jump school while Luke and Cin checked out the terminal?" Father David sorted out. "Cin, you suspect that those guys were posing as landscapers?"

  "It's hard to explain without sounding un-PC, but I wasn’t convinced by their impersonation that they were Guatemalan laborers.”

  "How close did you get to them?"

  "Not close, they moved away as soon as I walked out of the building."

  "What do you think they were doing there?" Father Thomas questioned.

  "Watching. That’s only a gut feeling, but they were watching and waiting. For what I’ve no idea." I looked over at my ex. "Luke?"

  "I didn't notice the men. I only saw what was a suspicious amount of activity for a small airport like that. From the air, Harry and I saw areas of encampment, whether it's those guys or legit groups. We marked out the areas on this sectional map." Luke pushed the map over to Father David. "I take it one of you can read a sectional?"

 
; Father David nodded. "So far all we have are some landscapers and campers. Not exactly an invasion or a reason to kill the bus driver or Father Michael."

  "There's more," Harry interrupted. He waited until all eyes were on him before continuing. "I went over to the jump school, and while I was waiting for some information brochures to be found, I had the opportunity to nose around some of the out buildings. At the edge of the airport just a few yards from the canal is a Quonset hut. I didn't feel bold enough to open the door and walk in, but I did get a look in the window. The place was filled with old scrap metal, basically junk, except for these new crates on the back wall.

  "I was walking back to the school and was met by the instructor. Instead of acting innocent, I just asked him if there were any antiques in there, pointing at the building. I explained that my father was wild about aircraft memorabilia. He told me that was just scrap in there but offered to let me look inside. He was going back to get the key when he stopped, remembering something. He told me that they had leased a spot to the landscape crew for their stuff, and it wouldn't be kosher to let me in there without their permission. I told him to forget it. It was too hot out anyway. He agreed, and we went back to the school so he could go over the information with me."

  "What did the crates look like?" Father David asked.

  "If this was a movie set, I’d say they were gun boxes. But I’ve no idea, since my only exposure is through the media."

  Father Thomas sighed. "Still doesn't sum up to anything we can report to Homeland Security though. Boxes could have yard equipment in them or maybe some smuggled goods."

  "I'd like to get a look at those crates." Father David drummed his fingers on the table. "I think it would be worth a look-see."

  "We're heading out there tomorrow, so why don't you tag along," Harry said smoothly.

  "Wait a minute. What do you mean by we?" I asked.

  "I signed us up for jump school."

  "Us as in you and Luke?"

  "No, Luke says he can't see any reason to jump out of a perfectly good plane. You and I are taking lessons. Father David can come along. He can be your boyfriend or something."