Chutes and Ladder

by Marc Jedel

  Although the setting was beautiful, my anxiety billowed as the scene sank in. “Why?”

  I must have spoken aloud, because Skye answered, “Because it’s fun, Uncle Marty.”

  “Look at all the cool colors.” Megan pointed up at all the people who were falling out of the sky. On purpose!

  The whole thing made no sense. Flying in airplanes was scary enough, with all that rattling and bumping around, not to mention what felt like sudden, death-defying drops during storms. At least the planes had engines and some complicated magic that made their heavy bodies stay up in the air. Pilots trained thousands of hours to learn how to land safely and keep the planes from losing the magic mojo that kept them from dropping out of the sky.

  “They’re crazy,” I mumbled.

  “No, it’s fun, Uncle Marty.” Megan’s singsong voice made it clear she thought I was being funny.

  This wasn’t funny. These crazy people jumped out of small planes, which were barely safe as it was. To make matters worse, these nuts thought a few flimsy yards of nylon were enough to save their lives. How could nylon protect someone from falling to their death? After all, I’d seen ads highlighting how nylon shirts dried faster than cotton because nylon LET THE AIR THROUGH.

  As I watched a bright red parachute and one with a psychedelic sunburst drift to a landing right by the targets, I tried not to think about the thin little strings that attached the skydivers to that unreliable nylon. If I ever got dragged, crying and pleading, to skydive, I’d bring a whole roll of duct tape to attach myself to that parachute. Or maybe the plane.

  “Uncle Marty! Come on. She’s here,” yelled Skye. She and Megan were a dozen yards in front of me, jumping around and waving like lunatics at the landing jumpers.

  The skydiving spectacle must have scared me to a halt. Despite my reluctance, I pushed forward and joined the girls as Samantha and her friend gathered up their flimsy nylon parachutes.

  “Woo-hoo! That was awesome!” Samantha was pumped as she gave her friend another high five. “Heya, Cuz. Meet my friend, Izzy. She organized this whole shindig.” Samantha gestured to the shorter and younger woman next to her who wore yellow goggles with yellow clips on her rigging to match her psychedelic sunburst parachute.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said. “I hear from Samantha that you work at Rover, is that right?” She had a broad smile, as if she too had enjoyed her terrifying drop to the earth.

  I nodded and shook her hand as she pulled off her helmet, revealing wavy brown hair.

  “Well then, you should probably call me Isabella. I go by that at work, and I guess we’ll be part of the same company soon enough.”

  I must have looked confused, because Isabella explained, “I’m the executive assistant for Doug Samerson at Sirius.”

  “Oh,” I said, surprised to meet yet another person from Sirius. If this kept up, I’d know the names of more Sirius employees than Rover employees by the end of the week. I straightened up and made a mental note to behave myself. I tried to remember what that article had said about meeting coworkers in social situations.

  “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Cuz.” Samantha slapped my shoulder.

  I must have displayed some marker of anxiety. Gotta work on that for poker night.

  Samantha continued, “Izzy’s cool. She organized all this in her spare time. Been down here all week setting everything up.” Samantha pulled off her own helmet and vest, unveiling a Red Sox T-shirt.

  As a longtime San Francisco Giants baseball fan, my scowl was automatic. “Well, that’s not as bad as wearing a Dodgers shirt, but you shouldn’t be wearing Red Sox gear here in Giants territory.”

  Samantha threw her head back and laughed. “I had to. I needed to match my chute. Not quite Red Sox red, but close enough.” She pointed her chin at the red parachute gathered in her arms.

  Megan and Skye asked a million questions as we strolled back to the parking lot. I hadn’t met Izzy—Isabella—when I’d visited Sirius because she had taken the week off to manage this skydiving event. Like most executive admins that I’d met, she seemed smart and friendly, yet direct. She didn’t hesitate to correct the girls’ misunderstandings about parachuting while switching gears seamlessly whenever different skydiving event workers approached her with questions along the way.

  “Can we get some popcorn?” asked Skye.

  “Yeah! And Milk Duds,” added Megan. To Isabella and Samantha, she explained, “You mix them with the popcorn and eat them together. That’s how my mom showed us. It’s best when the popcorn is hot, then the Milk Duds get kinda gooey.”

  “Never heard of that. Sounds awesome. Get some for me,” said Samantha, reaching for her wallet.

  “I’ll try it too,” said Isabella, slapping away Samantha’s attempt to pay. “Tell the concession staff these are all for Izzy.”

  The girls yipped a thank-you and beelined to the concession stand.

  Isabella watched the girls and then turned to me. “Maybe you can help me?” Her tone was more serious without the girls nearby. “Someone has been texting me these nasty pictures of a naked man. I know how to block a number on my phone. I do it every time, and then I get another gross picture from a different number.” She frowned and looked over at Samantha. “I didn’t want to say anything to people at work. It’s hard enough getting respect from all the men, you know?”

  Samantha nodded in agreement, her earlier ebullience fading. “Do you know who’s been sexting you?”

  “No. His face is never in there.” She paused. “Just other parts. Mostly one in particular.”

  Samantha’s face turned red as her anger grew. “Sicko. Well, we’ll just have to solve this, won’t we, Marty?”

  Surprised that she’d committed me, I didn’t answer right away. I knew of services that allowed people to get disposable phone numbers. Maybe whoever was sexting Isabella had used one of those services to mask their own number and make it easy to keep switching numbers with each text. I wasn’t an expert on telecom networks, so I didn’t have any idea how to stop them. I wasn’t about to admit that in front of Samantha, though. She didn’t look interested in hearing excuses.

  “Um … Sure. I’ll look into it.”

  Samantha nodded and Isabella gave me an appreciative smile. Then, Isabella poked fun at something Samantha had done during the descent and they reverted to teasing each other.

  After hearing about the guy who was harassing Isabella, I felt a little selfish for bringing up an unrelated request. Then, I figured agreeing to help the CEO’s admin had to earn me a few credits, so I interrupted them. “I did have something else I wanted to ask Mr. Samerson, if there’s a chance that you could bring it to his attention privately.” Getting Samerson’s answer without Peters around could make all the difference in figuring out what happened to Larry.

  Isabella stopped in mid-tease and flipped into problem-solving mode. “Sure. Let me jot it down.” She reached for something before coming up empty-handed and shrugging. “Sorry, I forgot I’m on vacation this week.” She gave a wry laugh. “I feel naked without my notebook. Everything goes in there. All my action items, things I want to learn more about, even personal stuff.” She laughed again. “Organizing this skydiving convention has thrown me for a loop. With all the volunteers working remotely on different projects at different times, we had to use an online task management system. Call me old-fashioned, but I think writing it down on paper keeps me better organized.”

  I nodded like this made sense to me. Be nice to the CEO’s admin. But using paper made absolutely no sense at all. Not even a little. That was like rejecting sliced bread. People have used their phones to manage their calendars, take notes, and set reminders forever. Even my dad did this on his phone. Why would someone resort to using paper? Maybe Isabella wasn’t as smart as I’d thought.

  The girls returned with the popcorn and Milk Duds. As we munched, Samantha said, “Mmhmm whahoo …” before waving me to wait while she paused to finish chewing her Milk Dud
s.

  Laney had strange concepts of what foods went together. Last month her girls conned me into trying some bizarre food combinations that they promised me she ate. Now they were trying to trick me again. I didn’t fall for it and contented myself with handfuls of plain popcorn, just the way Orville Redenbacher intended.

  Samantha swallowed and asked her question again. “Are you coming to watch the competition tomorrow? I’m gonna whup Izzy like a lazy dog in the woman’s division.” Although Samantha had lived in Boston for years and worked to develop a Boston accent, every now and then she would come out with these Southern phrases. She learned them from spending time with her other grandmother in rural Oklahoma while growing up. The combination of a fake Boston accent and Southern expressions always struck me as odd.

  Interrupting her conversation with another event worker, Izzy laughed and punched Samantha on the arm. “No way, José. I’m beating you again like I did the last two years.”

  Megan piped up, “Can we go tomorrow? This is way better than school.”

  I shuddered to think of how I’d get them past Guard Quarles. I doubted Laney’s trick would work again.

  Skye rescued me. “We can’t. Tomorrow is Megan’s Brownies meeting, and I have to take a math test.” She almost sounded excited about the prospect as she skipped away from us.

  While Megan ran after her to complain that skydiving was cooler than Girl Scouts, I considered returning tomorrow myself. With Laney’s and my lack of sports skills, I had never seen a family member win a sporting event. If I worked this evening, I could complete a final prep run for tomorrow morning’s presentation. I could leave right after the meeting and, with any luck from the traffic gods, make it here in time to watch Samantha. I’d survived today and even sort of enjoyed it. Plus, Meghan would think I was extra brave for facing my fears twice in a week. That had to count for something when she got home on Friday night. I swallowed and said, “Sure, I’ll come watch.”

  Samantha said, “Cool, Cuz! You want to go out with us tonight? We’re going barhopping. That’s how we got to be friends. We met on the podium when Izzy took first place at an event in Hawaii and then went drinking with some cute surfer dudes as my consolation prize.”

  I turned them down. It was either go drinking tonight or watch them parachute tomorrow. Besides, I wanted to swing by Gloria’s house and ask her a few questions about Larry.

  This decision felt good. And if Samantha won, then I’d have seen a Golden win a sporting event. If Isabella won, I could earn some brownie points for being the first Sirius work colleague to congratulate her. No matter what, I was sure to be a winner.

  What could go wrong?

  11

  Thursday Afternoon

  The Rover car woke me up with a soft chime a few minutes before it arrived at the skydiving competition site. For new Rover members, sleeping while the car drove itself took some getting used to. Lots of time logged in Rover cars made taking a nap during a ride no problem for me. In fact, the wake-up alarm had been my idea after an embarrassing incident when I arrived still asleep at a trailhead for a hike and some young kids woke me by banging on the car window and laughing at my startled reaction.

  While Samantha and Isabella went out last night, I’d stayed up late practicing my presentation for this morning’s important meeting with Rover’s executive staff. My boss had been so pleased that they’d said yes to our proposal that he told me to take the afternoon off. Good thing, as I had planned to tell him I needed to do some “remote testing” anyway. Now I could save that excuse for another time.

  Still yawning as the Rover car pulled into the crowded parking lot, I was startled by the strobe lights of police cars and ambulances near the grandstand. I stepped out of the car and made my way to the entrance to see what was going on.

  Samantha was in the middle of a chaotic scene, surrounded by cops and volunteers from the competition. Her head hung as she clutched her arms to her chest. She shook as if she might be crying. Her skydiving harness was still on but detached from her parachute. A police officer stood awkwardly near her as other officers milled around, giving directions to everyone as they tried to organize the bystanders.

  I pushed through the crowd of gawking people to get to her. “Sam. Are you okay? What happened?”

  “Oh, Marty!” She grabbed me in a tight hug. Now I knew something was terribly wrong. Samantha played red hands or gave wet willies; she was not a hugger. “It was horrible. Izzy …” Her body shook as she took a shuddering breath. “She’s dead.”

  I gasped. “What? Who?” Overwhelmed by the confusion around us and Samantha’s emotions, I pulled back out of her grip to see if she was hurt. She was shaking but otherwise appeared undamaged, at least on the outside. Then her words made their way past my erratically firing brain circuits. “Oh no! Izzy?”

  I couldn’t believe it. Izzy had landed yesterday with no problems and joked around with the girls and Samantha. She’d even eaten Milk Duds and popcorn with the girls. “That’s horrible. What happened?”

  Her voice quivering, Samantha answered, “Her lines got tangled, or her chute ripped, or something. She just fell. Her safety chute didn’t work right either. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Samantha waved her arms in front of her face as if to ward off some bad juju. “I’ve got to get some air. Leave me alone for a while, okay?” She staggered away from me and the crowd, heading to the side of the parking lot.

  I kept an eye on her but didn’t interfere as the police moved the crowd farther away from the grandstand and organized them into lines before beginning interviews.

  “Sir, could I get your name?” A Hollister police officer stood next to me with a notebook and pen in her hand.

  Why did everyone still use paper? “I’m Marty. Marty Golden.”

  She wrote it down. “We’re getting statements from everyone. Could you please describe what you saw and where you were during the incident?”

  “Nothing. I got here after the police. All I saw were flashing lights in the parking lot.”

  She squinted at me. “Can anyone verify that?”

  “What do you mean? Am I a suspect or something?” Before panic could take hold, I remembered I did have proof. “I took a Rover car here, so the records can prove I’m telling the truth.” I prepared to explain Rover only to be surprised that she didn’t ask.

  Maybe Rover was gaining more traction than I thought.

  I asked her, “Do you know how it happened yet? How she died?” My heart started racing as the thought of falling out of the sky struck me again. “Did something happen to her parachute? You know they’re just made out of nylon, right? Did you check her strap thingies, you know, her yellow clips? Maybe a terrorist cut her lines?” When I noticed her reaction, I stopped blabbering and wiped my sweaty palms on my pants.

  “It sounds like you knew her pretty well and have all sorts of ideas about her gear. What’s your relationship to her?” The officer stared at me, her eyes narrowing as she flagged down another officer to join us.

  I explained that Isabella was friends with my cousin and pointed at Samantha, who was leaning against the hood of her rental car.

  Managing to keep my imagination in check while the officers questioned me further, I avoided increasing my odds of imprisonment. She raised her eyebrows as I explained that my knowledge of parachute gear and its potential risks for failure or sabotage was based solely on internet research done before I’d come out to watch Samantha. Being paranoid wasn’t a crime, thankfully, so she eventually moved on to the next person with only a warning not to leave the grounds until the police gave the all-clear.

  I’m free! I’m free as a bird now. I hadn’t even needed to reveal my secret partnership with Mace to avoid a longer visit with the Hollister Police Department. I’d save that winning card in case a follow-up interrogation got even more intense. Before I got too distracted trying to remember the rest of the lyrics from that long-ago song, I walked toward Samantha.

  *****<
br />
  Over an hour later, most of the cars had left as the police sent people home. An older police officer made his way over to where Samantha and I stood on the outskirts of the nearly empty parking lot. “Do you mind if I ask you a few more questions before you leave? I understand you were close with Ms. Martinez—”

  “What’s happening with Izzy, with her body?” Samantha stumbled over her words as she struggled with the loss of her friend.

  “Well, first we’re investigating, of course. We’ve had some unusual responses so far.” He looked me up and down before returning his attention to Samantha. “That’s why I wanted to ask you some additional questions. You went up in the same plane and jumped before her, right?” The police officer managed to simultaneously convey a sense of soothing sympathy and a professional focus on finishing his job.

  “My jump slot was four or five positions before Izzy’s. The planes circle the target so everyone gets the same chance to win without having to worry about interference from other jumpers. I landed before …” She trailed off.

  The officer got to his point. “Did you see anything unusual during the plane ride before you jumped?”

  Crossing one arm over her stomach and putting the other fist to her lips, Samantha stayed silent as she replayed the events in her memory. The officer and I watched her eyes move back and forth like a tennis match as she followed each scene in her mind’s eye. Right before I entered a hypnotic trance from watching her, Samantha answered, “No. It was the same as yesterday. Izzy and I were trash-talking each other. Mostly to stay loose, you know. Most of the others onboard knew Izzy too and joined in. She ran this event, so most everyone knew her.”