Fer-De-Lance

"Did you hear me say shut up? I’m busy. Look out, Corbett."

I shot forward onto the back drive and headed for the graveled road that led to the hangar. On that, out from under the trees, the sound of the airplane was louder. I made the gravel fly, and whirled to a stop on the concrete platform in front of the hangar. The mechanic, Skinner, was standing there in the wide open door. I jumped out and went over to him.

"Mr. Manuel Kimball?"

Skinner pointed up, and I looked. It was Manuel Kimball’s plane, high, but not too high for me to see the red and blue. It seemed to make a lot of noise, and the next second I saw why, when I caught sight of another plane circling in from the west, higher than Manuel’s and going faster. It was helping with the noise. Both planes were circling, dark and beautiful in the sun. I brought my head down to sneeze.

Skinner said, "He’s got company this morning."

"So I see. Who is it?"

"I don’t know. I saw it first a little after eight o’clock and it’s been fooling around up there ever since. It’s a Burton twin-motor, it’s got a swell dip."

I remember Wolfe saying the clouds would have eyes. There weren’t any clouds, but no doubt about the eyes.

I asked, "What time did Mr. Kimball go up?"

"A little after ten. They came out around nine thirty, but the second seat wasn’t ready and I had to fix the straps."

I knew what it meant as soon as he said it, but I asked him anyhow. I said, "Oh, is there someone with him?"

"Yes, sir, his father. The old gentleman’s having a ride. It’s only his third time up. He nearly backed out when the seat wasn’t ready, but we got him in."

I looked up at the airplanes again. Manuel Kimball and his father having a ride together, up there in the sun, the wind and the roar. No conversation probably. just a morning ride.

I started toward the roadster, to speak to Anderson. Corbett had left his car and came to meet me. I stopped to listen to him: "Well, we’ve come to your party, where’s your guest of honor?"

I brushed past him and went on to the roadster. Seeing no point in giving the mechanic an earful, I lowered my voice. "You’ll have to wait, Mr. Anderson. Barstow’s murderer is taking an airplane ride. I’m sorry you won’t get him on time, but you’ll get him."

Anderson said, "Get in here. I want a showdown."

I shook my head. Maybe it was just contrariness, but I was set on carrying it out exactly as Wolfe had ordered. "That’s not next on the program."