Apparently Smith had already given the driver directions, for the car lurched from the curb the second I closed the door behind me. I asked the driver to please switch on the air conditioner. Lauren's MS caused her to be intolerant of heat. I assumed her pregnancy would only aggravate her discomfort.
Smith said, "I don't like air-conditioning."
I leaned forward and faced him, Lauren between us. Intentionally forcing civility into my voice, "I'm sorry. Chief Smith. My wife requires the air-conditioning for her health. I hope you can accommodate her for the brief amount of time it will take us to get across town to the airport."
As the words came out of my mouth, I felt as though I were talking like Kimber Lister.
Without a word, Smith pressed the button that raised his window. When the glass finally sealed shut, he muttered, "On such a fine day, too."
I began to wonder whether this private jet with ten seats was going to be large enough for the three of us.
The flight attendant on this leg was a gentleman in his fifties named Hans. He was solicitous and professional in getting us settled on board. Lauren noticed, as I did, that the interior of this plane was slightly different than the one on which we'd flown east. I wondered out loud whether Joey Franklin leased an entire fleet.
Chief Smith spoke for the first time since muttering about having to close his window.
"Joey actually leases time in the air, not on a specific plane. Any plane in the fleet that's the right size might arrive when he calls for service.
He uses them mostly to get to his golf tournaments. Shares the cost with one of his buddies."
Lauren was settling down on one of the leather sofas, fumbling for her seat belt.
"It certainly is a pleasant way to fly."
"Can't beat it," said Smith.
"Can't beat it. Hans? A cold beer would be great right about now. One of those green ones, from your homeland."
Hans looked right at me and, his face otherwise impassive, raised one reddish blond eyebrow about an eighth of an inch before he said, "I'm from Germany, sir.
The beer you are requesting is, I believe, Heineken. It is made in Holland." He turned as a soldier might and retraced his steps to the galley to retrieve Percy's beer. Percy glared at him; Percy didn't care in what country his beer was made, but he didn't like being corrected by the help.
Lauren had apparently decided to put more effort into being cordial to our traveling companion than I had. She asked, "Have you flown on Mr. Franklin's airplane before, Chief Smith?"
"Yep. Came out here for the first Locard meeting." Lauren asked
"How did it come about that you requested Locard to reopen the investigation of the murder of the two girls? " He took the beer from Hans, immediately finishing almost half of the contents. "I took over the force in Steamboat almost two years ago. Weren't too many cases left for me to clean up in town. And none anywhere near as serious as this one. Even though it was a sheriff's case and not a city case I was naturally interested it being a homicide and all and so I made it a point to familiarize myself with everyone who had been involved back then. It was Mr. Franklin senior, not Joey who told me about Locard. I'd never heard of them.
He'd seen something in some newspaper about that kidnapping they solved in Texas. That high school boy? You remember? So I asked the sheriff if he minded if I started looking at the stuff he had in his files. Sheriff didn't care. So I reinterviewed some of the witnesses. Inventoried the evidence that hadn't been misplaced. I actually pulled everything together that I could even put it all together in a new murder book and Mr. Franklin senior and I came out and met Kimber and three or four others a couple of months back. That's how it all got started." Lauren asked, "What about the other family? Marikos family?"
"Long gone. Back in Japan for all I know."
"So they haven't been consulted? You don't know how they feel about the work we are going to be doing?"
Percy shrugged.
"Why would they object?"
I was about to press to try and determine whether any effort had been made to contact the Hamamoto family, but the captain was walking to the back of the plane. She was a tall woman with intricate braids that had been pinned up at the sides of her head. She had swimmer's shoulders. She introduced herself to her three passengers and said we'd begin taxiing in about three minutes and that the first hour or so looked to be pretty bumpy. A big wall of thunderstorms was heading north out of the Virginias.
"So I want y'all to listen to his safety instructions extra carefully." She waited. I nodded.
"Good. Now enjoy your flight. Our first stop today is Yampa Valley Regional Airport, then we'll be heading off on a very short hop to Jefferson County."
Hans had been waiting patiently for the captain to finish speaking. He stepped forward and leaned from his waist toward Lauren.
"A refreshment, miss, while we taxi? Perhaps a warm towel for your hands and face?" he inquired.
I leaned down and raised one of Lauren's legs to my lap and removed her shoe.
As I began to massage her foot, I decided I was going to do everything in my power to enjoy this flight.
Lauren and Percy quickly fell asleep and Hans covered each of them with a quilted blanket. Lauren stirred each time the plane encountered turbulence, which was frequently, once opening her eyes and gazing at me before rolling onto her side. I reached over and tightened her seat belt a little, briefly resting my hand on the slight swell in her abdomen. Percy Smith didn't move at all. I made a silent bet to myself that he would snore.
The conversation that accompanied dinner was banal, and was mostly focused on Percy's background because Percy displayed absolutely no interest in either Lauren or me. He lost no time in letting us know that he had played football for Tom Osborne at Nebraska-although it turned out he had actually played very little football for Tom Osborne at Nebraska. Lauren stopped him before he launched into a description of the knee rehab he had endured for the ACL he'd torn during his sophomore year. He was equally eager to boast that he had married a beautiful cheerleader named Judy. He lifted a fat wallet from his hip pocket and showed us a worn picture of Judy in her Nebraska cheerleader outfit.
Judy Smith was quite pretty. Percy explained that his "wife's people are from Routt County. Mining. Cattle. Old-timers." Lauren asked if he and Judy had any children.
He replied, "Yeah. Two" 0-kay. In Percy's mind, I guessed that covered the topic.
Percy's life didn't fascinate me enough to continue the conversation in the direction it was heading. I changed the subject back to the issue of the two dead girls.
"What about the man you replaced in Steamboat? What was his name? Barrett? What did he think about the way his investigation concluded?"
"I didn't replace Barrett. Barrett was Routt County sheriff. And he left in ninety-two or ninety-three. I replaced Tim Whitney."
"So you don't know Sheriff Barrett?"
"Didn't say that. Phil Barrett still works for Congressman Welle he's some bigwig on his staff and they both still call Steamboat home. We've crossed paths a few times since I've been in town. Played golf with him once. Man has more slices than a deli. Barrett, not Welle. And he can't putt to save his life." Lauren asked, "Have you discussed the case with him?"
Percy scratched himself on the back of the neck but didn't reply.
Her fork in midair, Lauren persisted.
"I have to wonder how he feels about his work being scrutinized by a bunch of strangers."
I was surprised to observe Percy appear thoughtful. After a moment's contemplation, he said, "Nobody would like this case solved more than Phil Barrett. Well, maybe Mr. Franklin. But after him, Phil Barrett wants the answers the most." Lauren said, "I've been wondering about something else. Was Mr. Barrett the sheriff when Raymond Welle's wife was killed?"