Alpha Omega M.D. – Episode #273
…”I’m in need of a co-pilot for a flight to New Mexico.”
“What?” That comes from so far in left field that Lyn is caught selling peanuts in the parking lot…
Old Telephone by Raymond Logan
“I’m sorry, Lyn, I keep forgetting Sara is gone.”
The office phone rings, severing the air of blue reminiscence.
“Mr. Rogers? There is a Robert Ford on the telephone. He claims to know Lyn.” The Harper Books receptionist relays the information.
Rogers covers the mouthpiece with his free hand. “Do you know a Robert Ford?”
“Robert Ford, I don’t,” one one-thousand, “oh, yes I do. If that is Captain Ford from Pan American Airways, let me speak to him.” Lyn hated the way things were left on Ceylon. “Captain Ford?”
“It is Citizen Ford, Miss Hanes, but you could call me Dirt and I wouldn’t mind.” He had called Lyn several times that first year, but had since given up on his quest for the lady’s heart. “I’m still flying, but its cargo, not passengers. My own plane, I’m proud to say.”
“Congratulations!” She resists asking him if he had lost any freight lately. There are times when
Planter S Peanut & the Nutmobile
Lyn needs to hold her tongue, despite the urge to the contrary.
“Thank you, but I’m in need of a co-pilot for a flight to New Mexico.”
“What?” That comes from so far in left field that Lyn is caught selling peanuts in the parking lot.
“This whole deal may be a dead end, but I received a call from Terry Trippe this morning. He tells me that he got a call from an Air Force base out in New Mexico. They have an unidentified woman there, with what they think is amnesia. The one thing she keeps mentioning is the Clipper.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m not saying anything quite yet; I just thought it would be worth going out there. I’ve got a load of celluloid for United Artists in Hollywood. How about me popping out to La Guardia, in say, two hours?”
Lyn doesn’t know what to think. She is awash in the newness of these developments, barely able to keep her mind from racing, getting her hopes up. Even false hope is better than the no hope she has lived with for six lonely years; six years of living someone else’s life (Constance and not very well as we found out) not her own.
She would make one hell of a private eye and this is a great opportunity to ply that craft.
“Go,” urges Stanley Rogers. “I’ll take care of the old man… watch it, I know what you’re thinking Lyn?”
“Make it three hours and you’ll have your co-pilot. I bet you didn’t know that I have an expiring pilot’s license.”
“That doesn’t surprise me none and three hours it is… mark… that makes it 1624 Eastern Time.” Ford is nothing if not precise and probably the most unassuming hero you can find. “My plane is a white-over-gray DC-3 with Constance Caraway P. I. in yellow paint on both sides of the nose. I’ve become one of her biggest fans. I’m so glad she divorced that jerky congressman.”
“I’ll be sure to tell my editor that.”
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Alpha Omega M.D.
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