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Authors: Carola Dunn

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BOOK: The Case of the Murdered Muckraker
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“First,” said Daisy, “before I explain everything, would you mind telling me, Sir Roland, why you're called Dipper? And also why you call Alec ‘Arrow,' unless it's just because he's Fletcher?”
“That's part of it, of course. But it's largely because he was the best navigator of all the observer pilots in the RFC.”
“Spare my blushes!” said Alec.
“By George, it's true, though,” Sir Roland insisted. “Always flew straight as an arrow to his target. Some of the chaps used to ramble over half of France and come back never having set eyes on whatever they'd been sent to take a dekko at. Arrow always got the goods. Comes of being a copper, I dare say. Always get your man, do you, old man?”
“Not quite always.”
“Jolly nearly,” said Daisy. “What about ‘Dipper'?”
Sir Roland laughed heartily. “That's another story!
Thing is, I was shot down two or three times, and ran out of fuel now and then, and then there were mechanical problems—nothing out of the ordinary, by George, nothing that didn't happen to most of the chaps, sooner or later. But somehow I always came down in the water, the Channel, a river, a reservoir …”
“A duck pond,” Alec put in.
“Dash it, that one I prefer to forget, old man! Ever taken a dip in a duck pond, Mrs. Fletcher? I can't advise it.”
“At least you didn't drown,” said Daisy, appalled by his list of mishaps.
“True enough. I was lucky.”
“We both were,” said Alec.
“True,” Dipper said soberly. “We came through. Most of the chaps didn't. I say, is that the last of the sandwiches?”
“I'm afraid so. There's just an apple left. Darling, let me have your penknife and I'll slice it. What brought you to America, Sir Roland?”
“Oh, a couple of chaps and I decided to pop over just for fun. Gives a chap something to do, don't you know?”
“You flew across the Atlantic?”
“Nothing to it these days,” said Dipper mournfully. “People doing it all the time since Alcock and Brown showed the way in '19. We fitted an extra petrol tank in the rear, where you've been sitting. Took it out when we got here, to lighten the load—that's why our range is only six hundred miles or so—but it's easily reinstalled when we need it. Let's have your tale now. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, eh, what?”
As the lamps burned lower, Daisy told Sir Roland the story, from the quarrel she had overheard in the next room
the day before the murder to recognizing Wilbur Pitt in the lobby.
“That was just this morning!” she said in astonishment. “It feels like a month ago.”
“So the chap we're chasing bumped off his cousin as well as pirating a plane?” said Sir Roland. “Ripping!”
“Ye-es.”
Alec pounced on Daisy's hesitation. “You're not sure, are you?” he demanded.
“I'm sure I saw him in the Flatiron Building,” Daisy temporized, persuading herself as much as Alec. She really was pretty certain. She remembered telling Rosenblatt and Gilligan the man had seemed familiar, which could only be because of his resemblance to Carmody. “It's just that I can't help wondering whether he ran because he was afraid he might be shot, too. By someone else, of course.”
“Poppycock,” Sir Roland snorted. “If your chappie was so easily scared, he wouldn't have been running around waving a gun at the aerodrome.”
“I think he's right, love,” Alec agreed, to Daisy's enormous relief. “I rather doubt that shrinking violets are bred in those farms and mines and logging camps, however civilized the Wild West may have become in these degenerate days.”
“In any case,” said Sir Roland, “we can't let air piracy flourish unpunished. We've got to go on, by George, on the off chance that we might catch him when everyone else fails. Time for beddy-byes, now. We'll take off about two ack emma. Don't want to waste any time.”
With that, he stretched out along a wall and apparently fell asleep straight away. Daisy, with Alec to warm her and
pillow her head on his shoulder, managed to doze fitfully. She was not so comfortable, however, as to mind much being woken in the middle of the night.
They took off under a waning moon and a million brilliant stars. Daisy slept on and off as they droned westward. Again the changing note of the engine roused her.
In the light of dawn, the aeroplane was circling above a large city. And as it turned, Daisy saw that the way to the west was barred by a wall of mountains, their towering, snowy peaks tinted pink by the approaching sunrise.
T
wo wind sleeves in the northeast corner of the city announced the presence of rival aerodromes. Dipper chose the one which displayed the most activity. As they landed, three small biplanes were being prepared for take-off.
Pilots and mechanics stopped to watch as they taxied across the grass towards the tarmac. Dipper stopped near a petrol pump, not far from the group, who all strolled over to the new arrival. Daisy was interested to note that one of the people in flying dress was a woman, a black woman.
Someone folded back the hood over Daisy's cabin. She stood up stiffly, and hands reached out to help her down.
“Denver!” Alec was saying. “I've lost my touch, Dipper. Too far north last night and too far south this morning. We were aiming for Cheyenne.”
“Lowry Aviation Field, Denver, Colorado,” said a short wiry man in airman's leathers. “You're heading west? The Cheyenne route's generally easier flying.”
“That's the way the air mail planes go, isn't it?” said Dipper.
“It's not quite as high, and more of a plateau, without
the big peaks. But the radio weather man said it's gonna be snowing that far north today. You better go the southern route.”
“We haven't got a map from here on.”
“Ah guess we can find you a spare, cain't we, Hiram?” the woman put in. “Where're y'all going to?”
Alec and Dipper looked at Daisy.
She stared at the short, wiry pilot. “Hiram,” she said. “That's it. Not quite, but that's nearly it. Now hush a moment while I think. It's one of those names which sound as if they ought to be English, but one just doesn't come across them at home. Hiram, Caleb, Elmer, Chester, Floyd—and Miss Genevieve? Of course, her pen name was Eugene Cannon! Eugene City, Oregon, that's where we're going.”
“At last!” said Alec.
“Well done, Mrs. Fletcher,” said Dipper.
“Ah know Eugene,” the black woman said. “Ah did a show there last summer. Nice little airfield they have.”
“That's good to know, madam,” said Dipper, “always supposing we can find it.”
“Jack, go see what maps we can spare,” Hiram ordered one of the others.
“Madam!” The black woman laughed. “Ah don't get called that too often. Bessie's my name, Bessie Coleman.”
“How do you do, Miss Coleman.” Dipper introduced himself and Alec and Daisy, and Miss Coleman introduced her colleagues. They were barnstormers, they explained, who had just put on a show in Denver and were moving on to fresh pastures.
Daisy and Dipper left it to Alec to explain their arrival in Denver at dawn on a Sunday.
Daisy did not hear how much he revealed, as Miss Coleman said to her, “Ah expect you'd like to wash up, Miz Fletcher. They don't have a little girls' room here, but Ah'll stand outside the men's room while you go in.”
“Gosh, thanks! I've been making do with bushes. Real plumbing will be sheer heaven.”
“It's not elegant,” Miss Coleman warned, leading the way towards the buildings. “Y'all are English, aren't you? Ah learnt to fly in France. Ah was always crazy for it, and Ah couldn't find anyone over here who'd teach me. Then Ah came back to show people what a coloured woman can do if she puts her mind to it.”
“Good for you! I'm not exactly sure, what are barnstormers?”
“Fools who risk their lives to give the rubes a thrill because that's the only way they can make a living flying airplanes, and that's the only thing they want to do. Gypsies, they call us. We put on an air circus to attract the crowds. Ideally they pay to see us loop the loop and walk the wings and so on. Hiram has a great new stunt where we fly in formation and he climbs down by rope ladder from the top plane to the one in the middle, and then to the bottom one. But of course anyone who wants can see it from outside.”
“I suppose so,” said Daisy.
“The real money comes from taking people up for joy rides. We make enough to buy gasoline and food and keep the Jennies more or less in flying condition, and maybe a bit over.” She shrugged. “We get by, and we're doing what we want. Ah guess that's about as much as anyone can ask for.”
“That's how I feel about writing,” Daisy told her, “or I
did, till I got married. I'm going to write an article about flying.”
“Flying's been in the Denver papers the last couple of days. Some guy was arrested in Ohio for flying over a city and dropping leaflets. They're more forward looking here in Denver—the citizens are going to raise money for a municipal flying field, and they're going to put up an airplane lighthouse on Pikes Peak. There was a column about a new record air speed, too. Two hundred fifty-nine miles per hour, think of that!”
“It's not so long since they said the human body couldn't survive travelling at thirty miles an hour!” Daisy exclaimed as they reached the men's room.
It was not the most salubrious place Daisy had ever found herself in, but it was definitely an improvement over bushes. She emerged feeling a bit less grubby, at least about the face and hands.
“Ah missed what your husband was saying about why y'all are here,” Miss Coleman said as they walked back towards the aeroplane.
“We're chasing an air pirate.”
“Is that right? That makes those train bandits they're hunting over in the Siskiyous look real old-fashioned! And you think he's heading for Eugene?”
“That's where he's from. It's only a guess that he'd make for home, though,” Daisy admitted. “He knows the mountains and forests, so he'd find it easy to disappear if we don't get there in time to stop him. At least, the police may be on the lookout, but we've no way of knowing, and they're not likely to pay any heed to a telegram from people they know nothing about.”
“So you're in a hurry,” said Miss Coleman thoughtfully.
“Rather. Oh dear, Alec's not looking very happy.”
Alec was frowning over a couple of maps spread out on the lower wing, with Hiram beside him explaining something, while Dipper was supervising refuelling.
“What's up, darling?” Daisy asked.
“Mountains,” Alec said briefly. “Dipper, have you any experience flying through high mountains?”
“Not me.” Dipper came over. “Nothing higher than the Alleghenies we crossed in Pennsylvania. Trouble?”
“Flying due west, we'd have to cross at least one pass at nearly twelve thousand feet, but going round by the south makes it considerably farther. I suppose we'll have to go the long way.”
“Waste of time, dash it. Let's go …” Dipper smothered a huge yawn. “Let's go for it. Where's that coffee?”
A fit of yawning overcame Alec.
“Coffee's not gonna make you guys fit to fly through mountains you don't know,” said Hiram bluntly. “Better grab a bit of shut-eye first, whichever way you're going.”
“They're in a hurry,” Miss Coleman pointed out. “We let this air pirate get away with it, there'll be others deciding it's a good way to make a get-away, and it's us they'll be coming after. Why don't Ah take them over? Leastways—” She asked Dipper some technical questions about his altitude meter, ceiling, range, and maximum speed. “Sounds just fine. Miz Fletcher, ma'am, can you read a map?”
“On the ground,” Daisy said dubiously, amused by Alec and Dipper's flabbergasted expressions, but not at all sure that they were wrong to be incredulous.
“That's O.K., honey. It'll be mostly watching out for roads and railroads and rivers. Ah've flown it before and
the weather forecast's fine this far south. Hiram, Ah'll join up with y'all in New Mexico soon as I can get there, O.K.?”
“I guess,” said Hiram laconically.
“At least take her up for a practice run!” Dipper blurted out. “Get the feel of her.”
Miss Coleman beamed at him. “Good idea. Stand clear, boys!”
As she swung up into the cockpit, the mechanics pulled out the petrol pump nozzle, capped the fuel tank, and backed away. The engines, still warm, burst into life. With a cheerful wave, she taxied across the tarmac, turned into the wind, and started her take-off run across the grass.
“Oh Lord!” groaned Dipper.
“She's a mighty good pilot,” Hiram told him. “Watch.”
The boy who had been sent to buy them breakfast turned up at that moment. Distracted, Daisy missed the take-off. She only looked up from a rather disgusting friedegg sandwich—which she was happily devouring, being ravenous—when she heard a horrified unanimous gasp from Alec and Dipper.
For a moment she couldn't see anything wrong. Then she realized that the aeroplane was upside down.
With difficulty, Daisy suppressed a gasp of her own. She ought to have more faith in Bessie Coleman. The others must know she was a stunt pilot. They wouldn't be worried if she were a man. Hiram and the others didn't look at all worried.
The aeroplane's nose turned downward, diving towards the hangar. Daisy's fingernails bit into her palms. But Miss Coleman pulled up and flew right side up a few feet above the hangar, waving to the spectators. She zoomed up, did
a few barrel rolls, and came gently down for a perfect landing.
Ten minutes later, the refuelling completed, Daisy found herself in the cockpit buckling her safety belt, with Alec and Dipper unwillingly stowed in the cabin behind.
Miss Coleman spread a map on Daisy's knee. “See here, Miz Fletcher, ma'am, this here's the road we want to follow, via Glenwood Springs and Grand Junction. It's going to be hard to see sometimes, in the high passes where there's snow, and down in the canyons among the trees. Some places it'll be easier to spot the railroad lines or a river or creek, so you take note where they run together or at least the same direction.”
“Right-oh,” said Daisy, determined not to get them lost so they'd have to crash land in snowy mountains. “I'll keep my eyes peeled.”
“And hang on to that map. It gets mighty windy. Most all of the time Ah'll be looking, too, but there's places Ah'll have to concentrate on flying. We'll be going up to about twelve thousand feet. That's our ceiling, as high as the plane can fly. The air's getting thin up there. You feel dizzy, you put your head down between your knees and don't worry about where we're going, you hear?”
Daisy had an uneasy feeling that Alec had said one of the passes was twelve thousand feet, but she nodded. “Right-oh, Miss Coleman.”
“Bessie.”
“Daisy, then.”
They smiled at each other. Bessie taxied towards the take-off position, while Daisy concentrated her entire attention on the map in her lap.
Daisy didn't raise her head until the aeroplane levelled out after taking off. She was stunned by the view from the cockpit, so much clearer than from the cabin. The city of Denver spread out below, scarcely beginning to rouse so early on a Sunday morning. She had expected the mountains ahead to look smaller once she shared the sky with them. They didn't. They looked bigger. And they grew as the city slipped away behind.
The road west from Denver was easy to see, heading for the foothills as straight as a Roman road. Though unpaved, it appeared to be made of well-packed gravel, and if snow had fallen here, it had melted. When the road reached the hills, it narrowed and began to wind between slopes of evergreens, but it was still clearly visible from above. They followed it, cutting across the curves.
The hills grew more rugged, too steep in places to support trees. Daisy assumed they were also higher, and that the aeroplane was constantly ascending. She thought it was getting colder, though that might have been her imagination. The road was harder to see, and sometimes they had to fly high above it as it wound through a narrow valley. Bessie followed its course closely, afraid to lose it if she cut across. They were flying between the hills now, not above.
Daisy found it curiously disorienting to see trees and rocks when she looked straight out sideways. There were patches of snow, too, on the north-facing slopes.
The valley branched ahead.
“Which way's the road?” Bessie shouted, fighting gusts of wind which shook the plane.
A shoulder cut the view ahead. Daisy reached for Dipper's binoculars and stuck her head over the side, hoping she wouldn't have to stand up. The goggles protected her
eyes, but the icy blast stung her cheeks above the scarf Alec had passed on to her. Catching a glimpse of the road climbing along a hillside, she pulled her head in and pointed.
Bessie nodded.
They were forced ever higher by the narrowing valley. Snowy peaks rose about them and ahead, and then the road reached the snow level. Someone had driven it since the snow fell, though. Daisy saw the double track black against the white as they curled around the mountainside.
BOOK: The Case of the Murdered Muckraker
12.39Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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