Chapter 29

Hairy

Rachael called.

“Hello?”

“Umh ... do you know a Karen Post?” she asked.

“I do,” I responded. “What about her?”

“She’s trying to find you,” she said. “Do you want to be found?”

“I am always at home to Karen,” I said. “Of course I want to be found. Why?”

I could hear rustling of paper, “She called Pan Am and I took her call. I had to be sure you wanted to talk to her.”

“I do.”

“307-672-8828.” Rachael said.

“That’s home,” I said.

“She sounded anxious,” Rachael said.

“Probably needs money,” I said. “She wouldn’t have called otherwise.”

“Might be ... we usually do,” Rachael said.

“I need to get to Alliance. Hood time,” I said by way of explanation. “I’ll call her from there.”

I of course, promptly forgot. I hate getting old. 29 isn’t old, you idiot. I know ... but thirty is next. Never trust anyone over thirty.

It wasn’t until I spotted the Beech H model that I remembered. That’s pretty, I thought.

<You’re going to buy it.>

“I am?”

“What?” said Amy.

“I see a FOR SALE sign on the propellers of that Beech,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s a real deal.”

“Why?”

“Remember that Directory from the FAA?”

“Straps on the mainspar?”

“Yup ... those.”

“What about it?”

“Mr. Montenegro had Charley do the work and then couldn’t afford to pay. Chuck slapped a Mechanics Lien of it. It’s been in the courts for a year. Montenegro decided he needed a smaller more fuel efficient aircraft and gave the title to Charles,” Amy said.

“And?”

“Charles did a thousand hour on it and wants to recoup his labor and parts,” she explained.

A familiar 450 Merc pulled up, Rachael got out of the passengers side and Roslyn unassed the drivers side.

Rachael said, “Did you call?”

By the look on my face she knew I hadn’t.

“Just like a man,” she said. “You’d forget your ass if it weren’t screwed on. Call the girl.”

I borrowed the Alliance phone ... borrowed’s ass. I paid five bucks for the use.

307-672-8828 ... Buzz-Buzz.’

“You must first dial One for long distance.” said the recording.

I knew that, sure I did.

CLICK ... CLICK CLICK

Dialtone.

1-307-672-8828...

Buzz-Buzz. Buzz-Buzz.

“Hello?”

Yup ... Karen ... I realized how much I’d missed her.

“Karen,” I said.

“Hairy?” Click Thud Click Whack

I smiled ... She had dropped the phone. “Karen? Karen. Karen?”

“Hairy...” she stumbled, Don’t hang up please. Where are you?”

“At the moment?” I said ... I realized she didn’t know. “Alliance Flight School. What’s up?”

She garbled it. “You’re taking flight training?”

“I need a long distance hood flight.” I said ... thinking. “I was thinking about coming home. How are you doing?”

She said, “Taking flight training.”

I assumed, “Sheridan?” That’s the biggest airport ... Must have a flight school. She surprised me.

“Buffalo ... that’s what I want to talk to you about ... there are aircraft I need to rescue.” She said.