The Underground Lady (Book 8 of the Jay Leicester Mysteries Series)

by JC Simmons

  Shaking the water off, Hebrone went to the counter and poured a glass half full of whiskey. He stared out the rain-streaked window and took a long drink that shuddered through him. I could tell he was making a long journey while he stood in the kitchen.

  Shack fingered his glass, watching Hebrone. "So, VonHorner copped out on everything?"

  "Yes, said his then girlfriend shot Sunny's mom because of jealously and the fact that she was going to expose him for the illegal maintenance thing. He would be ruined."

  "I don't understand," Shack said. "Hadley Welch had just taken off in her airplane. Why did she come back and land?"

  "She evidently saw Kien's vehicle. They drove a yellow Volkswagen van, one of those old ones that looks like a bus. Gerald said she called Hadley and threatened her not to turn him in. Everyone assumes that Hadley spotted the van from the air, and came back and landed. Too bad she just didn't keep flying to Meridian."

  "Was Gerald VonHorner with his girlfriend?"

  "No, she called him after the confrontation. He came to the landing strip and saw what had happened. It was an amazing coincidence that Avis Shaw's bull dozier and backhoe were on site, and that VonHorner knew how to operate them."

  Hebrone came and sat down. "Pulling those wings off was brilliant. Only an aircraft mechanic would think of that."

  Rose asked, “How much time will he get out of this?"

  "He pled to accessory after the fact. Since he didn't force a trial, the DA cut him a deal. He'll serve three years."

  "What if she didn't do it?" Sunny asked. "What if he's blaming it on her?"

  "Then he got away with killing your mother. Since Kien VonHorner is dead, we'll never know."

  Hebrone took another long pull from his glass. "The Vietnamese do strange things."

  "You packed? I'll drive you to Jackson for your flight. Sorry about the long layover in Atlanta."

  Sunny asked, “You're going back to Key West?"

  "Yes, via Atlanta and Miami. Thanks to Mr. Leicester's bookings, I have three hour layovers in both places."

  I watched Sunny thinking.

  "My plane is arriving in Philadelphia at six. We'll take you to Key West. I'll call the crew and let them know of the change in plans."

  "Thank you. I accept the ride."

  Getting up, I went to the phone and canceled the airline reservations.

  At five-thirty, Sunny Pfeiffer and Hebrone Opshinsky loaded into my truck and we drove to the Philadelphia airport. Shack and Rose followed in his truck. The rain had eased into a steady, cold drizzle.

  The three-engine Falcon-50 Corporate Jet sat on the ramp in front of the airport FBO office, glistening in the rain. The onboard APU was running, making a humming noise. The Captain was sitting in the cockpit, the copilot waited in the lobby of the FBO. A flight attendant stood at the top of the airstair door, waiting boarding of the passengers.

  We said our good-byes.

  Sunny hugged my neck. "I'll expect you in St. Louis in two weeks to evaluate the flight department."

  "I'll be there."

  Hebrone shook my hand. "Thanks for the work. I'll tell Smash you said hello and that he missed a good old Mississippi lynching. He'll be thrilled."

  "Stay out of Captain Tony's."

  We watched the Falcon jet taxi to the end of the runway. Rain began to fall in sheets, the clouds low. Barely able to see the landing lights of the airplane, we watched as it accelerated toward us, rotated, and started to climb. Almost instantly, it went into the clouds and disappeared.

  We stood, looking at one another, watching the rain run down the windows of the FBO office, not sure exactly what we should do.

  The airport Unicom crackled. "N1SP, Philadelphia Unicom. Miss Pfeiffer bids you adieu. Mr. Opshinsky says to tell you that we broke out on top at 17 thousand with clear skies above."

  The girl behind the counter answered. We got in our trucks and drove away. I headed back to a cottage in the woods and a cat named B.W.

  Epilogue

  I sat on the porch of the cottage holding the big Siamese cat in my lap. I'd just returned from St. Louis, where for two weeks I evaluated the flight department of Upton Pharmaceuticals. Sunny Pfeiffer accepted my recommendations of a complete shakeup of personnel, selling off of old and varied aircraft, purchasing new equipment from one company that would save money, not only on acquisition costs, but on training, spare parts inventory, and maintenance. I showed her where the company could save over a million dollars a year worldwide.

  To the south, I watched a red-tailed hawk dive low over the fencerow. Suddenly a black blast of smoke seemed to rise soaring into my memory where it would remain forever and ever. I saw the plane hit the ground again and I would not lose that sight, in whatever peaceful valley, beside whatever quiet and rippling stream, or looking into the faces of innocent children. It will always be there, musing, steadfast, not fading, and not particularly threatening, but horrible and sickening.

  That night, I felt strangely calm, and the reason was that I'd experienced the horror that left one so. How long would I be haunted by the shadowy sadness I did not know. I wondered who could explain a world where human words and human bonds and human thoughts had so profoundly failed. I had the feeling of an inexorable tide rising up inside me. My eyes had seen too much death. I had the feeling I'd been just a hollow, hungry, empty man held on earth waiting until the call came, until it was my turn to become one of those failed humans. But in the breast of these woods and this cottage in the middle of God's country, I'd never felt hollow or hungry or empty. I did not understand it, but I knew I was no longer afraid of death. I no longer felt I was half of something but felt whole and finished in my making. I also knew that Rose English, Sunny Pfeiffer, Shack Runnels, Hebrone Opshinsky, and B.W. the cat, remained my friends.

  THE END

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  Thanks for reading!

  Check out all 10 books in

  The Jay Leicester Mysteries Series by JC Simmons:

  Blood on the Vine

  Some People Die Quick

  Blind Overlook

  Icy Blue Descent

  The Electra File

  Popping the Shine

  Four Nines Fine

  The Underground Lady

  Akel Dama

  The Candela of Cancri

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