CHAPTER 1
The Delta plane roared down the runway and then lifted into the air without incident. Detective Blake Stillwell leaned back in his tight seat and watched the ground outside the window slowly disappear. The plane was leaving the Atlanta airport en route to Jacksonville, Florida, and then on to Daytona Beach where he would deplane. His destination was an island called Bird Island some unknown miles south of Daytona Beach. He was leaving the Detroit winter scene behind him for a two-week vacation
He had smiled at the good-looking passenger next to him as he glanced out the window. She had returned a cold-type look. Was she annoyed by his leaning against her?
He judged the blonde to be in her late thirties or early forties. She evidently didn’t want to discuss the weather as she tried to continue reading a paper back book. She was immaculately dressed in a rich-looking suit which matched the blue in her eyes. Blake also wondered why he felt some interest in her, a total stranger. He wasn’t looking for any new companion at least he thought he wasn’t. Why had he felt some kind of peculiar sensation when his shoulder touched hers as he looked out the window? He noticed her frown as she glanced at the shoulder he had touched. Blake decided he better make some apology for leaning against the shoulder.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to touch you,” he muttered. “The plane dipped the same way I did when I tried looking out the window.” He was thankful she had nodded. Evidently she had accepted his apology.
As the ground outside the window disappeared and clouds started to sail past, he grinned and tried speaking to her. “I bet when I die, and I hope my spirit is fortunate to go to Heaven, it will have to stop in Atlanta to get a pass from the good Lord to transfer to another carrier to Heaven. No matter where one flies in the eastern states or east to west, I bet everybody’s plane stops in Atlanta to change to another flight before reaching their destination.”
The blonde made a slight response. “You’re probably right,” she replied while frowning. Her hands still held the paper back.
The flight stewardesses were edging a cart of soft drinks and small bottles of stronger drinks along the aisle. He paid for a tiny bottle of whiskey, received a soft drink, and then let them mix themselves with the swaying of the plane. Twenty years ago he had received an invitation from a Captain Horace Treadwell to visit his lodge located on an island near the Atlantic shore in Florida. Blake had continued to send Christmas cards to Horace and his wife thanking them for the invitation every year, and stating he would eventually fly to Florida. Solving crime episodes in Detroit was always a headache. He never took two week vacations. It was always two or three day ones, and even then he was often called into headquarters many times to help in some other crime which had been committed when he was on short leaves away from the office. His wife, bless her soul had passed on after a bout with pneumonia. She had only been twenty-eight years of age. He had missed her greatly as they often went to the theater, or to a play. He wasn’t a good dancer, but Nancy had coerced him in taking her to entertainment centers and he was dancing more than he realized. She was an excellent dancer and often said he was a good dancer, too. But he had always assumed people were watching his clumsy feet miss certain beats of the music, even though Nancy said he was doing great.
He glanced at the blonde. He could never keep quiet when sitting next to a person, in a bus or on a plane. Would this one have anything to say if he started the conversation? Maybe the book would be of more interest than his conversation. Well, he’d give it a try. If she gives me a frown and the ‘cold shoulder’ he knew he’d better shut up.
“I’m heading for Daytona Beach,” he mentioned while glancing at the face. It was a pretty one. “And then, renting a car and driving to some place south of Daytona called Bird Island, which is a suburb of a growing town called New Smyrna Beach. According to my invitation, it’s some small island in a ways from the Atlantic Ocean. I understand since one can’t drive to the island a motor launch will meet me. I’ve never been to Florida, having been stuck in Detroit working nearly every week of the year. So, this is the first time to get away from the cold north for a few days.” He glanced closely at the face again. “Not my intent to be nosy, but how about you? You also don’t have a tan so I’m betting you’re from the north also, heading to Florida for a tan.” He wondered if she would give any answer.
She did after staring at him for a few minutes. The face wore many frowns before she spoke. She even placed her finger in the book. “That’s where I’m headed, too,” she said.
Blake straightened in his seat. He found himself now staring at the blonde. “You are?” He exclaimed. “Wonder of all wonders. Since it’s an island we’re both headed for, I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again.” He offered his right hand. “Name’s Blake Stillwell from Detroit on a two-week vacation.” He was surprised and glad the lady received his hand in hers. He wasn’t sure, but he thought she smiled, at least a little.
“I prefer being called Cathie. I too, am getting away from the cold weather. But that’s not the main reason I’m coming to Florida. A very close girl friend of mine has died. I’m coming for the funeral, as well as getting some sun later on.”
“Sorry about your friend,” Blake spoke softly. Should he ask how she died? Some friends would tell why or how, others preferred to keep quiet. He’d give it a try.
How to ask the question?
|