“I take it, then, Jim, that you were also a personal friend of Amelia’s...”
“I knew G. P. and his wife, yes. We traveled in something of the same social circles, in New York.”
Smiling innocently at Dimity, I asked, “And you, Elmer? You have a great passion for this cause, obviously. What was your connection to Amelia?”
But it was Margot who answered, leaning forward, reaching past Mantz, to touch my hand. “That’s what I started to say, before I got off the track... I thought you knew, Nathan, that Mr. Dimity was one of Amelia’s closest friends and business associates.”
“No I didn’t,” I admitted.
Margot continued: “Mr. Dimity developed a training unit for parachute jumpers...”
“It’s a two-hundred-foot tower,” Dimity interjected, “with a safety line attached to a standard parachute harness. Designed primarily for military use. Amelia helped me out by taking the first public jump from one of my towers.”
This was ringing a bell. Amy had told me that after G. P. had left Paramount, and needed some cash flow, he’d involved her with several publicity campaigns for a parachute company; she had also fondly mentioned the well-intentioned owner of the firm, who had become a supporter and something of a hanger-on.
“Amelia helped me gain public attention for several other of my aeronautics inventions,” Dimity said, then had another taste of his Gilbert. Behind the wire frames, his eyes were distant with memory, his voice soft as he said: “I owe much of the success of my company to that kind and generous lady.”
“Well, I know you didn’t pay my way out here to ask me for a contribution,” I said, which got a chortle out of Dimity and a smile from Margot. Forrestal’s reaction was only a little less expressive than a cigar store Indian’s. “And adding my name to your membership board sure won’t gain you any prestige.”
“We have a job for you,” Dimity said. “We are probably at least a year away from mounting our expedition, hiring a ship and crew... This is no idle effort, Nate, it’s my intention to go along, and Miss DeCarrie feels the same way. Having Amelia’s personal secretary aboard will lend our expedition credibility.”
This was starting to sound about as credible to me as launching an expedition to the Island of Lost Boys to look for Peter Pan.
“Of course,” Dimity was saying, “this assumes that all goes well with fundraising.”
“An opportunity has arisen,” Forrestal said, joining in belatedly, his whiskey sour glass empty, “that may help the fundraising effort.”
“Have you heard of Captain Irving Johnson?” Dimity asked me. “No.”
“Or perhaps, Captain Irving and Electa Johnson?”
“Them either.”
Margot said, “Captain Johnson and his lovely wife, when they’re not sailing around the world, are active on the same lecture circuit as Mr. Putnam... the sort of places Amelia used to speak.”
“And they talk about sailing around the world, I gather.”
“Yes,” Margot said. “They have a schooner.”
“Isn’t that what you serve German beer in?”
“No, Nathan, it’s a big sailing vessel...”
“That was a joke, Margot. The, uh, Johnsons is it? Sail around the world, and then they go on a lecture tour; then they sail some more, and repeat the process?”
“Yes,” she said, a little embarrassed.
“They write books together,” Dimity said, “and perhaps you’ve seen their articles in the Geographic.”
“My subscription just lapsed,” I said.
Captain and Mrs. Irving Johnson were part of the adventuring and voyaging fad that had turned Amelia Earhart into a star, the same public fascination for exploring that had made G. P. Putnam and his instant books successful, and public figures out of Lindy, Admiral Byrd, Frank Buck, and the rest of that hardy bunch.
Forrestal said, “Captain Johnson and his wife are out on a world voyage right now.”
“But they are willing to divert from their cruise,” Dimity said, “to accept a two-thousand-dollar commission from the Foundation. For four weeks, Captain Johnson will sail the Gilbert and Ellice islands. It is our hope that he will discover enough new information about the Earhart disappearance to fuel our fundraising efforts for a full expedition.”
“That might be helpful,” I admitted. “Do you want me to run a full background check on the captain, and make sure he’s not just some con man?”
“Captain Johnson is quite reputable,” Forrestal said.
Mantz said, “I’ve heard of this guy, Nate. Johnson’s on the up and up.”
“What we want,” Dimity said to me, “is for you to go along.”
“Me? Do I look like a sailor?”
Forrestal said, “Yes. But that’s not the point.”
“Nate,” Dimity said, “I need a representative on that ship. Someone who can make sure the captain does his job, thoroughly earns his two thousand dollars...”
I said to Mantz, “I thought you said he was on the up and up.”
Dimity pressed on: “I can’t, in good conscience, spend the Foundation’s meager funds on a preliminary expedition without sending along a representative of our group.”
Shaking my head, I gulped down some rum and Coke and said, “You know, I don’t speak a whole lot of South Sea Island languages.”
“You’ve survived in the Chicago jungle,” Forrestal said.
“Nate,” Dimity said, “I need a man who’s physically and mentally tough. You knew Amelia...”
There was that past tense again.
“...and you know the right questions to ask. If by chance, some delicate or dangerous situation arose, you could handle yourself... or so I’ve been told by those I’ve spoken to.”
“Why don’t you go?” I asked Dimity.
His expression mingled chagrin and regret. “I can’t leave my business for a month... We’ll pay you twenty-five dollars a day and all expenses.”
“That would wind up costing you close to a thousand bucks,” I said. “The Foundation got that in its coffers?”
“No,” Dimity admitted. “I’m paying for this myself. I can afford it.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I certainly can!”
“I don’t mean I don’t think you can afford it, Elmer. I mean, I don’t think this is a job for me.”
He frowned and said, “I will guarantee you one thousand dollars.”
“It isn’t the money,” I said, and for a change it wasn’t. I didn’t think the government would want me taking part in this, not after they bought me off and had me sign that agreement. But on the other hand, fucking Forrestal was sitting across from me...
“Why don’t you sleep on it?” Forrestal suggested.
“Yes, Nathan,” Margot said, “you have two nights paid for here at the hotel, and your train tickets don’t take you back till Wednesday. We can meet for lunch tomorrow.”
I considered that.
Then I said, “All right. I’ll sleep on it. But I’m warning you, Elmer, Jim... Margot. I don’t think I’m your man.”
“Fair enough,” Dimity said, smiling as though I’d already accepted the job.
“I need to be going,” Forrestal said, and he rose.
Everyone else at the table got to their feet too, and I shook Forrestal’s hand — oddly, his grip was damn near limp, this second time — and he flinched me his tight non-smile and left.
Dimity said, “I need to get going, as well. Margot will contact you about time and place for luncheon tomorrow.”
“Fine,” I said, shook his hand, and he strutted out.
Mantz, Margot and I sat back down.
“That guy thinks ‘no’ is a three-letter word,” I said.
“He’s devoted to Amelia’s memory,” Margot said admiringly, apparently not recognizing the death sentence of her words.
Mantz put a hand on my shoulder and said, “Hey, I’d invite you to the house tonight, but I’m afraid Terry and I have plans. You think you can find supper in this town, by yourself?”
“He doesn’t have to be by himself,” Margot said. “I don’t have plans.”
I looked at the cute kid with her cherry-red lips and bright blue eyes. “That’s pretty brazen. You gonna twist my arm if I spend the evening with you?”
She laughed, and it was nicely musical; brunette curls bounced under the white beret. “We’ll swear off any discussion of the subject. No Amelia Earhart Foundation. Not even any Amelia Earhart.”
“Okay,” I said. “It’s a date.”