The Underground Lady (5 page)

The day was getting off to a good start.

As we eased along the gravel road, leading to the blacktop, trying not to spill our coffee, Sunny cocked her head at me, and with a sly grin, said, “Frost also wrote a poem about two women on a farm without a man. They had a milk cow named 'Lesbia."

Now that one I had not read. We both laughed again.

After turning onto the blacktop, we headed east toward the town of Union, a place William Tecumseh Sherman refused to burn during his devastating march of destruction across the south during the Civil War because of its name. There is a hotel in downtown Union that has been restored called the Boler Inn, which Sherman used as his headquarters for a short time.

Suddenly a horrible stench permeated the truck. It was as if we had driven into a garbage dump.

Sunny looked at me with a turned-up nose. "What is that smell? That is terrible."

Laughing, I said, “That, my dear young lady, is a common prominence in this otherwise pristine landscape. Those five chicken houses off to your right are the cause. Their contents are ready for the slaughterhouse. It is their vaporous odors that are a perpetual aroma of remembrance of things bad."

"I would hate to live near them."

"Agreed, however they've been in this part of the country for many years, and when one moves next to the airport, he cannot complain about the noise of the jet engines."

After passing through Union, we turned south on Highway 15, and headed toward Decatur, then to Interstate Twenty, and on to our destination, Meridian where the airport and Sanders Flying Service were located.

We drove past open pastures, the wind whipping through them, moving the tops of the dead grass in waves. The motion reminded me of the mane on a galloping horse. Passing through Decatur, we turned southeast and headed for the Interstate.

"So why did you stop flying and open an aviation consulting business?"

Looking at her, I didn't know whether to give her a crass answer or tell her the truth. I decided on the truth. "I wanted to be able to make my own choices, not have someone make them for me. Life without choices equals bondage, and I had no desire to explore the depth of servitude." She looked at me with amusement. "When I first learned to fly, it seemed I had faith in the impossible. An enormously expanded world teemed with possibilities of flight, adventure, and romance in which one's wildest dreams could be fulfilled. Life had a zest."

She stared at me for a minute, didn't say anything, as if a moment's balanced reflection would serve to place every reality on an even plane. Then, “So what happened to change that zest for flight?"

"A simple answer would be government bureaucracy, but it was much more. Deregulation hurt the airlines more than any other single thing. It used to be a privilege to fly, a luxury. It is now mass transit, and the reality is that commercial airlines were destined for that. So, it was change or be left behind for the air carriers, the flight crews, both cabin and flight deck. Then, after 9-11 things got really bad, but I was already out by then. That's why you see so many corporate airplanes today. If an individual or a company can afford it, it's the only way to fly."

"Corporate airplanes, yes."

She raised her head to look at me. I saw that time had gently touched her face and had begun to tug at her throat, but her faintly pinched face seemed like an angel in the company of a sinner.

"So how is it that you know Rose?"

"She was a friend of my mother."

"You were six years old when she disappeared."

"My grandparents, who raised me after Mother went missing, also knew Rose. We would come and visit once a year. I've kept in touch because I like her."

"The check you gave me for the retainer was drawn on a bank in New Orleans. Is that where you live?"

"No, that's just one of my businesses."

"One of them?"

"Rose really didn't tell you about me?"

"She said she would in due time, and with her that could be anywhere in the next hundred years."

"For the moment, let's leave my life out of the equation. Like Rose said, in due time."

"I like to know who I'm working for."

"Please…"

"Okay, for the moment."

Her presence beside me sustained an elusive feeling that there may be an opening into another dimension. One with more future than the world I knew. Her head was bowed over her empty hands as if she was trying to figure out some mathematical equation.

Soon we crossed the north end of the Meridian airport. Sunny looked intently at the Air Guard Boeing 707 tankers parked on the ramp. A smile crossed her face.

"I remember this airport. My mom brought me here many times to watch the airplanes take off and land. She really did love flying. It probably killed her. I guess you could say she loved it to death."

We parked in the small lot beside Sander's Flying Service and walked into the Fixed Base Operation. Annie Sanders was behind the counter.

"As I live and breathe, it's Jay Leicester, God's gift to aviation. Good to see you." She came around and hugged my neck.

"Morning, Annie. This is Sunny Pfeiffer, Hadley Welch's daughter."

"Lord, girl, you haven't changed much since you were six years old, maybe a little taller. I know you don't remember me, but it is good to see you again." Annie turned to me. "Earl mentioned you may come by to talk about Hadley going missing, Jay, but he didn't say anything about little Sunny coming with you."

"He didn't know, Annie. Where is he, by the way?"

"He's out in the hangar. I'll page him."

Earl walked into the lobby and his eyes went directly to Sunny. "It can't be, Hadley's daughter, little Sunny Pfeiffer? You look just like your mother." He shook her hand. "I've thought of her almost every day for the last twenty-five years, always wondered what happened. I'm glad you're looking into it again. If anybody can find out, it's this man." He looked at me for the first time. "Hello, Jay. Good to see you. Y'all come back into my office. We'll have some coffee and we can talk."

As we started for Earl's office, I noticed Annie looking at him with the strangest expression. I could not read what it meant, but my first impression was that it had something to do with Hadley Welch. Annie caught me looking and dropped her eyes, feigning paperwork. Did Earl have an affair with Hadley Welch? Was Annie jealous? It had all been so long ago.

Earl was nearly sixty years old now, but he still had curly black hair with no gray, and a ruddy complexion. At six feet in height and around one hundred and ninety pounds, he still appeared in good physical shape. In junior college, he was voted "Little All-American" as a running back, and was sought after by most major colleges in the Southeastern Conference. Instead, he opted for a career in aviation, married Annie, and went to work as a co-pilot for Eastern Airlines, a national carrier that folded after some serious financial blundering. After Eastern went belly up, Earl came back to Meridian, his hometown, and started his flying service. Over the many years we have known each other, I had never seen him so much as look at another woman. I would have to ask Annie what her expression meant, but I also had no idea how to broach the subject.

In his office, Earl propped his feet on his desk. "How can I help you?"

"To start with, tell me about her ability as a pilot? How well could she manage an emergency? Did she panic easily?"

"I know what you are getting at, Jay. If you cloned Amelia Earhart, Poncho Barnes, and Jackie Cochran, you'd have Hadley Welch. As a stick and rudder gal, I've never seen anyone better. In all of the simulated emergency landings I put her through, she never panicked, and always put the airplane in a position for a survivable outcome. She would not stall or spin the airplane straight into the ground, if that's what you're getting at."

"It would explain why the wreckage was never found. It wouldn't make a pile half the size of a round hay bale, and if it went in in a remote, heavily forested area, it would be impossible to see from the air."

"She didn't lose control and spin the airplane into the ground." Earl put his feet on the floor, sat up in the chair.

"How can you be so sure?"

"I just know her ability. Wouldn't have happened."

"Would you have any theories about my mother's disappearance, Mr. Sanders?"

"Please call me Earl. No, I don't have a clue. That airplane did not crash anywhere between Union and Meridian. I've been over every inch of that country from the air. I would have found the wreckage."

"Yes, he would have." Annie had been standing at the office door. She turned and walked away.

"There was a rumor that the airplane was spotted down at Wiggins, and even on Chandeleur Island."
"If that were true, Jay, the airplane would have turned up by now, don't you think?"

"One would assume so, but when Cessna and Piper ceased production after the liability insurance fiasco, a lot of people were dismantling them and sending them overseas for the high price they were bringing."

"Maybe, though I doubt it. The paperwork was pretty strict."

"You taught my mother how to fly?"

"Yes. She was the best student I've ever had. She had a true passion for flying. Every aspect of it excited her to the depth of her being. She reminded me of that man sitting beside you. He, at one time, had that kind of passion for all things aeronautical."

Sunny Pfeiffer turned and looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. There was a disconnect between the smile on her face and the disbelief in those green, sparkling eyes.

"The PA-18 you sold her, was it a new airplane?"

"We ordered it directly from Piper. In fact, Hadley and I went to the factory and picked it up. She was the first and only one ever to fly it."

"You and Hadley Welch went to the factory in Lock Haven, Pennsylvania?"

"I had one of our charter pilots fly us over in a company plane. Annie went with us and flew back with our pilot and I flew back with Hadley. That wasn't unusual – we did it with several customers. Back then Piper, Cessna, Mooney, Beech, all little aircraft manufactures allowed pickup at their factories. Our customers enjoyed touring the assembly line and seeing how the airplanes were put together."

"We need to talk with John Roberts."

"Let me call him." Earl reached for his phone. "Maybe he can see you today."

Sunny got up and went to a photo hanging on the wall. "Is this my mother and her airplane?"

Earl nodded. "John, Earl Sanders. I've got someone in my office that wants to talk to you." He handed me the phone, went over to where Sunny stood looking at the photo.

"Hello Meridian, Southern eighteen forty one off Laurel inbound, squawking 1200. We have information Oscar and are running late."

"I'll be damn, I'd recognize that voice anywhere. Jay Leicester. You were always running late. How are you?"

"Fine, John. If you've got some time this morning, I'd like to pick your brain about a little airplane that disappeared off your scope twenty-five years ago."

"The only civilian airplane I ever lost. I remember it like it was yesterday. Hadley Welch, beautiful young woman, hell of a pilot. Earl taught her. I don't think I can be of much help, Jay, but come on by, say around one o'clock. Earl can tell you how to get to the house. I'd meet you somewhere, but I'm wheelchair bound."

"Not a problem. We'll be there at one."

"We?"

"I have Hadley Welch's daughter with me. Is that okay?"

"Sure. Look forward."

Hanging the phone back in its holder, I went and looked at the photograph. The woman standing beside the propeller of the yellow cub was a mirror image of Sunny Pfeiffer.

"Why is John in a wheelchair?"

"He had a hip replaced. The wheels are temporary. You can't keep old Roberts down for long."

"Okay. Is there anything else you can think of that could help us?"

"I can only tell you what didn't happen to that airplane, not what did. Good luck, Jay. I want to be the first to know if anything turns up. Sunny, it was good to see you. I hope you find out what happened to your mom."

"Thank you, Earl." She hugged his neck.

Out in the lobby, Sunny excused herself and went to the ladies room. I walked out the door leading to the ramp, and stood looking across the two runways. The morning was peaceful, orderly, and the air around me seemed but a gauzy curtain that would part with little effort, if I were to just lift my hand, revealing all that had happened at this airport over time. Everything would be there, just beyond the thin curtain.

Someone touched my shoulder. It was Annie Sanders.

"There was a man in Hadley's life. Find out all you can about him."

"Who, Annie?"

"No…you find out all you can." She turned and went back inside the Fixed Base Operation.

It was almost noon, and we had an hour to kill before meeting with John Roberts. We stopped at a motel restaurant that I'd eaten in before, nothing fancy, but decent food.

Seating ourselves, a waitress came over. She smiled, exposing neglected teeth that were crooked, gapped, and yellowed from years of cigarette smoke. They reminded me of the gravestones in a forgotten cemetery. She looked like she ate what she served, her body rounding out in middle age. She had a pouchy face with red eyes and hair like an abandoned floor mop. She was friendly, helpful, and we had the lunch special that she recommended. It turned out that the food was still as good as I remembered.