Grace Takes Off (11 page)

ADAM HAD HIS HANDS FULL WITH PINKY. SHE
fidgeted in her seat, stood and stretched every few minutes, and wandered up and down
the aisle, complaining that her legs were aching from lack of circulation. If her
grievances had come after a couple of hours, I may have felt more charitable, but
she got up to move after less than fifteen minutes and she was blasé about her detention
and our scrutiny. I sensed she was up to something.

As a group, we discussed the food situation. Jeff was all for eating whatever food
had been prepared, despite the risks involved. The rest of the passengers, including
Bennett and me, decided to make do with whatever sealed snacks Evelyn was able to
scrounge up.

“I’m hungry,” Pinky said. “I’ll eat the food. Give me whatever plate you want. You
guys are all being paranoid.”

With good reason, I thought. Her announcement, however, lent credence to her claim
that she hadn’t bothered any of the other dinners. The group changed. “What the heck?”
Matthew said. “I’m starved.”

Evelyn told me that she intended to personally inspect every bit of food before serving
it, adding in a whisper, “The rest was waiting in a warming tray that I don’t think
Pinky even knew existed. I’ll use that”—she wrinkled her nose—“and make it stretch.
We’ll be okay.”

After everyone was satiated, more or less, a few passengers turned off their personal
lights and decided to sleep the rest of the ride home.

All the excitement kept me from being able to relax. I decided it was my turn with
our prisoner. “Adam.” I tapped him on the shoulder. “Let me take over for a while.”
I pointed out the windows, where the daylight was beginning to wane. “We’ve still
got a long way to go.”

He shot me a look of gratitude. “If you insist . . .”

Doing my best to battle my jitters, I took his seat, aware of Pinky’s glower of animosity.
Despite her declarations to the contrary, I knew she’d targeted Bennett, and I wanted
answers.

“Pinky’s not your real name, is it?” I asked, keeping my tone even.

“Back off. I’m not your friend.”

I scooched forward to the edge of my seat, hot anger rising up the back of my throat,
my entire body tingling with the urge to grab this woman by the neck and take her
down. “I’m not trying to be your girlfriend.” Lowering my voice I fairly growled at
her. “You tried to harm Bennett. That makes you my enemy.”

“I told you. I wanted to sedate the dog.” She came almost nose to nose with me. “But
you are my enemy. I won’t forget what you did to me.”

I nearly launched out of my seat. “What
I
did to
you
?” About to remind her that it was
she
who’d been caught in an act of sabotage, I clamped my mouth shut and counted to three.
Arguing with this nutcase wouldn’t get me anywhere. Not where I wanted to go, at least.
“Oh, no, sweetheart,” I said, reveling in my burst of snippiness, “you got
yourself
into this mess.”

Her eyes flashed. “You and your sugar daddy are in a world of hurt—you just don’t
know it yet.”

I pounced. “I knew you were targeting Bennett.”

At that she faced the window. “I’m tired. Leave me alone.”

“Not until you tell me why you did it.”

Still staring out the window, she remained silent, working hard to keep her expression
blank, but there was no mistaking the fury rippling its way across her features.

I tried again. “I’ve never met you before. Bennett doesn’t know you, either. I suggest
you tell me what this is about before we turn you over to the police.”

She took a quick breath.

“Oh, so that bothers you, does it?”

Making eye contact now, she rolled her eyes. “As if.”

But there was something there. A twist of fear behind her unsteady frown.

“You have a record,” I said as realization dawned. “Back in the States, I mean. I’ll
bet you weren’t supposed to leave the country, were you?”

She didn’t answer.

“Were you?”

If she could, she’d have bitten my head off. “Mind your own business,
sweetheart
.” Leaning forward, she tossed my word back at me with a chilly smile. “Sticking your
nose into things is what gets you into trouble all the time, isn’t it?”

“Is she bothering you, miss?” Rudy asked me.

I could have decked him for interrupting. The pent-up anger Pinky was harboring had
been ready to blow. I’d felt it. The fact that she knew enough about me—about us—to
make a statement about meddling in other peoples’ business told me I was onto something
big.

“Everything is fine,” I said, tersely. “Thank you.”

But it was too late—the light of rage snuffed right out of Pinky’s eyes. The disruption
had allowed the angry woman space enough to calm herself.

Rudy placed his hand on my shoulder and spoke softly. “I can sit with the lady for
a while if you like to walk around and talk to others.”

“No—” I started to say.

“I have to use the bathroom,” Pinky said. She boosted herself up and spoke in a clear,
loud voice. “Did you hear me? I have to go to the bathroom. The potty. Are you going
to let me go like a civilized person, or will you make me hold it for the whole rest
of the ride?”

Adam and Matthew exchanged uneasy glances. The two women kept their heads together
and shot looks of disdain Pinky’s way. “Don’t ask me to go with her,” one of them
said to the group. “I never signed up for that job.”

I wasn’t keen on accompanying another adult to the washroom, either. Evelyn spoke
up. “There’s barely room in there for one person so I don’t recommend two trying to
squeeze in. Besides, there’s only soap, water, and paper products in there. We don’t
stock anything that could even be remotely considered dangerous.”

Rudy watched all this through narrowed eyes. He worked his mouth then shook his head.
“No.”

Evelyn asked, “What do you mean?”

“She must stay in sight.” He folded his arms and lifted his chin as though daring
any of us to argue.

Evelyn shot me a look that spoke of exasperation. “I’ll tell you what, Rudy. Why don’t
you go into the lavatory and see for yourself. If there’s anything in there that gives
you concern, we’ll remove it.” She spoke to him as though talking to a stubborn toddler.
“Does that sound fair?”

He continued making pursing movements with his lips.

“Please,” Pinky said. “I really need to go.”

Rudy didn’t answer. I knew from the look on Evelyn’s face she wanted to ask, “Who
put you in charge here, buddy?” but she was doing her best to achieve her goal without
pulling rank. The entire cabin had gone silent as though waiting for some god on high
to make a solemn pronouncement.

“You Americans,” he finally said. Whatever that was supposed to mean. He strode toward
the rear of the plane. Over his shoulder, he said, “I will do as you suggest.”

Pinky made little huffing noises as though severely put out by our lack of courtesy.
I couldn’t imagine what kind of trouble a visit to the lavatory might cause, but I
wasn’t in the mood to be granting her any favors, either.

As Rudy moved off to inspect the washroom, Evelyn took a deep breath, surveying the
cabin with a practiced smile. “Can I get anyone anything?”

It was hard to ignore the banging and bumping noises coming from the lavatory. From
the sound of it, Rudy must have been ensuring that the wall and ceiling panels were
solid despite the fact that there weren’t very many places to escape, not when flying
thirty thousand feet in the air. He emerged a few minutes later.

Pinky griped, “It’s about time.” Without waiting for any of us to give her a verbal
okay, she stood and started away from us, purse slung over her shoulder.

“Hey,” I said, going after her. “Leave your purse here.”

She spun, giving me a withering look. “You’re going to make me leave my purse?” Her
laugh was ugly. “Give me a break. What do you think I have in here, anyway?”

Before I could answer, she unzipped her bag and thrust it at me. “Go ahead. You want
to know what I’m carrying, look. Knock yourself out.”

All eyes were on me, standing mid-aisle with this oversized shoulder bag gaping up
at me. “Anybody else want to check it?”

No takers.

I pawed through, grateful for the fact that the bag wasn’t stuffed. I pulled items
out one at a time and dropped them on her vacated seat. Wallet, makeup, cell phone . . .

“Hurry up, would you? And you can leave a few things in there, if you know what I
mean.”

I saw what she was talking about. A collection of female necessities. I reached around
them, finding little else. There were no hidden pockets, no unexplained weight. Not
even any more medications. I thought that was odd. Empty now, the purse had contained
nothing more frightening than a brush, comb, and massive wad of cash.

“This is a lot of money to be carrying around,” I said, holding it up.

She snatched it from my hand and stuffed it back in, along with the other items I’d
found. “Yeah, well, I don’t like using plastic. Last I heard, it wasn’t a crime. Or
are you going to have me locked up for that, too?”

Turning away from us, she marched around the back of the plane and slammed—inasmuch
as one can slam something so lightweight—the lavatory door. It wasn’t until we heard
the “Occupied” lock turn that we all breathed easier again.

Evelyn approached Rudy. “You and I should remain in the galley until she returns to
her seat. I don’t want her accessing anything we might have in storage back there.”

Rudy nodded.

“Evelyn,” I said quietly, mostly so that Pinky wouldn’t hear through the door, “When
I caught her drugging the food, I’d come back to talk to you.”

“Oh?”

“I’d intended to thank you for all your help, and for all you’ve done for of us.”
I smiled. “I still do want to thank you, but right about now I’d have to say you’ve
gone far above and beyond the call of duty.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“We’re all very grateful for your calm influence on this situation.”

“I wasn’t feeling very calm when we confronted her and saw those pills.” Evelyn kept
her voice low. “I’ve handled many in-flight emergencies in the past, but nothing like
this. I confess, I’m rattled.” She waved air near her face. “More than a little.”

“Thanks just the same,” I said.

Rudy watched our interchange with wide, dark eyes, looking for all the world like
a puppy who hasn’t gotten an expected pat on the head.

“You too, Rudy,” I said. “I don’t know what we’d do without you here.”

His chest puffed. “It is my honor to be of value.”

I returned to my original seat. Bennett was settling himself. Before he got too comfortable,
I wanted to revisit the topic that had been on my mind before all the excitement threw
us into a tizzy.

“So,” I began, “until Pinky returns, why don’t you tell me about Nico’s fake skull?
What kind of proof do you have?”

BENNETT GESTURED FOR ME TO TAKE THE
jump seat near his. I pulled it out from the wall again, and lowered myself onto it,
making sure no one would eavesdrop. I needn’t have worried. Matt and Adam were deep
in discussion and over the quiet drone of the plane’s engines, I couldn’t make out
any of their conversation.

One of their female companions made herself heard. “I’m not watching the troublemaker.
We came on this trip for fun.” Shaking a finger, she said, “Having anything to do
with that mess is about as un-fun as you can get.” With that, she turned back to talk
with the other woman.

I couldn’t figure out what role these two played in the band members’ lives. Maybe
they were in charge of business issues. Although that didn’t seem likely.

As soon as my backside hit the seat, Bennett leaned close. “I think we’re in deeper
trouble than we thought, Gracie,” he said with a furtive glance around. “I didn’t
really pay her any attention, but with all the fuss . . .”

He was speaking slowly and quietly. When he let the thought hang, my impatience made
me feel as though teeny bugs were trying to escape from under my skin. “Yes? What?”

His gaze darted around the cabin before he answered me. “While you were going through
her purse, I had a chance to really look at her.”

“Do you know her?” I couldn’t help rushing him. If he recognized her that would give
us another clue as to why he’d been targeted. “Do you?”

He made a “Quiet, please” gesture with his hands. “Her expression changed while you
were going through her purse. She made a face and it struck me that I’d seen her before.”

“Where?”

He stroked his left temple, and I could see how hard he was concentrating. “I know
how ridiculous this is going to sound, but I’m almost certain that she’s the woman
who was arguing with Angelo the other day. Remember when we heard them?”

“But . . .” Now I struggled to remember. “We didn’t see who he was arguing with. I
know we were curious, but I thought we’d just shrugged the moment off. Unless . . .”
Light began to dawn and I found myself getting caught up in the possibility. “When
Irena came to escort us downstairs to dinner, you went off on your own, didn’t you?
Did you see this woman? This Pinky?”

“You know how context often influences one’s impressions? If this is the same woman,
she was in a maid’s uniform. Her hair was tied back.” He gave an uncertain shrug.
“And there’s always the chance I may be mistaken about her. She might not be the woman
I followed after all.”

“You followed her? Why didn’t you tell me?” This revelation was huge, and my words
came out rather sharp.

“I had no reason to, young lady,” he said in a tone a father might use when his daughter
got snippy. “Until now, that is. After Angelo stormed by, I decided to find out if
I could determine who he was fighting with.”

I softened my next admonishment. “Didn’t you tell me that we should keep our noses
clean this time?”

“I said that you should. I never said a word about myself.”

I was about to retort, but he continued, “I didn’t get a good look at her and perhaps
I’m making a lot out of nothing. But I’m fairly certain this is the same woman. She
tried to open a door that was locked. When she turned around, she scowled—exactly
as she did when you were rummaging through her purse.”

“Did she see you?”

“She did not,” he said with more than a little pride. “I’ve been around you long enough
to know how to operate in stealth.”

My jaw dropped in mock indignation. I tried not to laugh as I said, “Operate in stealth?
You make it sound as though—”

The lavatory door banged open and even though it came from across the plane, the noise
made me jump. “All right,” Pinky said, hands in the air. “Whose turn is it to sit
with me this time?”

No one volunteered. I didn’t want to give up my chance to talk with Bennett now that
we’d finally found a few free moments with no one else around, but the two female
groupie-esque women ignored Pinky. Adam and Matt gave each other resigned glances,
both looking as though they hoped the other would volunteer first. Jeff and Carl ignored
us.

Bennett frowned, then made ready to stand—I assumed he meant to take a turn—but I
beat him to it. “I’ll do another shift.” I worked up a smile and shot it at Pinky
as I made my way toward her. “It’ll give us more chance to catch up.”

Evelyn interceded. “Listen, this flight was supposed to be relaxing. Thus far it’s
been anything but.” To me, she said, “Let me take a shift, okay? It’s the least I
can do on behalf of the company to make your trip more comfortable.”

“That’s not your responsibility.”

She placed a cool hand on my forearm. “Technicalities don’t matter. I feel responsible,
and that’s what counts. Go on back to your seat and let me do this for all of you.
We’ve gotten through dinner and there’s not much for me to do for the next several
hours.” With a wink, she added, “This is usually the time passengers fall asleep;
I’d rather have something meaningful to do instead of being so bored I start counting
snores.”

Having paid attention to our interchange, Pinky marched past, causing us both to take
a step back. “Check this out,” Pinky said loudly as she flopped into her seat. “I
hit the jackpot. I get the stewardess all to myself.” She made sure everyone aboard
was looking her way when she added, “Eat your hearts out.”

Evelyn took a deep breath and assumed the seat nearest Pinky’s.

“You got a deck of cards?” Pinky asked, looking innocent and subservient now. “We
could play gin rummy.”

“Rudy,” Evelyn called to her colleague. “We keep a few decks up front in the top cabinet.
Would you mind?”

He nodded. A moment later, cards in hand, Pinky began looking around for a suitable
playing spot. “We’d do better if you sat closer,” she said, eyeing the front seat
Bennett occupied. She pointed to the jump seat I’d abandoned. “If we pulled out the
tray table on that first chair, it could work.”

Bennett didn’t need to be asked twice. “Be my guest,” he said, standing. He and Pinky
exchanged seats. Evelyn settled herself in the jump seat and made ready to pull the
tray table out. Pinky held up a finger. “Hang on,” she said. “I need to get comfortable.”

She demanded a blanket and pillow, which Rudy hurried to produce. I lost interest
in her peeves and pleas, turning my attention instead to Bennett. His new spot, smack
in the center of the sideways sofa, made continuing our private conversation impossible.

“I’ll be fine here, Gracie,” he said, reading my mind or maybe my expression. “Why
don’t you and I use what’s left of the trip to sleep? We will have plenty enough to
deal with when we land.”

I knew he was referring to the Picasso, and I could barely contain my impatience to
find out how he planned to prove his claim that the item was fake. Swallowing my aggravation
over Pinky’s interruption, I made my way to the front of the plane and lowered myself
in my cushy seat once again. Tense and out of sorts, I tried to focus on relaxation,
but all I could think about was the fact that Bennett may have seen Pinky at Villa
Pezzati. The ramifications—if indeed she was the same woman—were huge.

The more I thought about it, the more anxiety built. I clenched my fists, staring
out the window in a futile attempt to clear my brain. I pieced together what we knew
for sure: Pinky was a last-minute addition to the flight, and despite her claims about
the dog, the fact was she had attempted to slip a potent tranquilizer into Bennett’s
meal. Not only that, but it seemed she had more information about Bennett and me than
she should. Who was this woman?

I worked to steady my breathing, which was beginning to come in short bursts. My heart
pumped furious blood up into my face and out to my extremities, making my head pound
and my legs and arms tingle with terrific anger.

What if I hadn’t chosen that particular moment to visit the back of the plane? What
if the food Pinky had sabotaged been served to Bennett? What if?

The plane’s expansive cabin became claustrophobic. Rage worked its way through my
body, scratching closer to the surface of my skin, itching to break free. I wanted
to take Pinky down. I wanted to hold her there, threaten her, make her talk. Make
her explain why she’d targeted this gentle, kind man.

Though healthy and in great shape, Bennett was in his seventies, for crying out loud.
I didn’t know much about drugs, but the amount she’d added to his meal was certainly
more than a single dose. The fact that Bennett had consumed a couple of alcoholic
beverages beforehand made me weak with fear. Although I was certain Rudy and Evelyn
had basic emergency training, there was no one aboard—there was no equipment aboard—to
handle the sort of trauma we would have faced. Bennett could have died.

And if Pinky was, indeed, part of Signor Pezzati’s staff, then this was no mistake.

I fidgeted with restive energy at the very possibility. Trying to focus my nerves,
I dragged one leg under me and stared out the window at the empty sky. The plane’s
engines maintained their monotonous background noise, drowning out small talk and
quiet movement. Any other time the white noise might have put me to sleep, but not
today. Forcing myself to concentrate on the tops of the puffy clouds surrounding us,
I thrummed my fingers on the armrest and bit the insides of my cheeks until I tasted
blood. I despised being inactive.

Like it or not, however, I had no authority here, and precious little experience interrogating
suspects. Hard as it was for me to wait, I knew this matter was better left to the
authorities. We would hand her over the minute we landed and then, boy, I’d arm the
police with as much ammunition as I could.

I didn’t agree with the consensus to keep the pilots in the dark about the alleged
criminal on board, but I couldn’t come up with much of an argument for informing them.
Their job was to fly the plane. As we got closer, we’d ask them to have the police
meet us at the gate. Beyond that, there wasn’t much they could do, anyway.

Pinky and Evelyn had settled in around the small tray. The flight attendant’s back
was to me as she shuffled. For someone so determined to play gin rummy, Pinky’s attention
wandered from the cards. She seemed to be studying the other passengers, looking for
something. I couldn’t imagine what thoughts lurked behind those shifty eyes, but I
didn’t trust her as far as I could throw her.

Watching her surreptitiously, I pulled out a book and pretended to read. Evelyn alternated
leaning forward and back as she dealt. Pinky stretched her neck slightly, angling
to see something at the plane’s very back, but I couldn’t turn to look without making
it obvious I was mimicking her movement.

Rubbing her chubby lips together, like someone who’s recently applied lip balm, she
cast her gaze around the area. I averted mine just as it was about to alight upon
me. I thought I heard her snort, but it could have simply been plane noises.

Finished dealing, Evelyn sat back in the jump seat. She waved a hand in the direction
of the draw pile between them. “Go ahead.”

Pinky hadn’t even picked up her cards. “I need something,” she said, eyeing the floor.

Evelyn tilted her head, mildly impatient. “What now?”

And at that moment, I knew.

When people claim that incidents unfold in slow motion, they aren’t exaggerating.
Brains race thousands of times faster than events can develop and when catastrophe
hits, when disaster strikes, or when one person is about to make a devastating move
against another, the brain shifts into hyper speed. In that instant of realization,
the brain decides on fight or flight. With accelerating fear and anticipation, tied
up with calculations of outcomes and trajectories, all bound together with enough
adrenaline to launch a person skyward, the mind moves faster than the speed of light.

By comparison, all surrounding activity crawls.

Pinky’s body language was too tense as she reached for her purse, her choreographed
movement too nonchalant. Her purse was too weighty. Even as I rose to my feet—no matter
how fast a mind can race, the body can’t possibly keep up—I caught the sag at the
sack’s center. When I’d pawed through it earlier there had been nothing in the purse
that could have caused that deep of a drop, that solid of a
thunk
onto her lap.

“Evelyn.” My mouth felt heavy and uncooperative. Syllables took their sweet time to
roll off my tongue. Standing now, I reached out, a mere step away from Evelyn’s side.
She turned at the sound of her name, her eyes widening in a mixture of curiosity and
confusion as I grasped for her shoulder.

But Pinky was ahead of me. Her arm up to the elbow inside her cavernous purse, she
was on her feet before my voice squeaked with warning. Disregarded, her purse dropped
softly to the floor as a vicious black gun materialized in front of Evelyn’s face.
Pinky didn’t waste movement. Closer to the flight attendant than I was, and clearly
not suffering from the element of surprise, she lunged into action.