Read Ebook: The Clue of the Gold Coin by Wells Helen

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Ebook has 1092 lines and 40020 words, and 22 pages

"Yep. You a friend of his?"

Vicki put on her prettiest smile. "Well, sort of," she said. "I haven't seen him for some time, and if I may, I'd like to say hello."

"Just a second," the foreman said. "I'll go get him." He turned and disappeared into the huge building.

Vicki looked in through the open door. Piles of boxes, cartons, and bulky sacks stood stacked like islands on the big expanse of floor. Cargo handlers were busy sorting these, loading some on small motor carts and unloading others that had just been taken off incoming planes. Backed up at a long platform that ran the length of the opposite side of the building were half a dozen trucks waiting to pick up the cargo for local delivery. Other workmen weighed outgoing boxes and bales, and nailed cartons up more securely. The whole place had an air of quiet efficiency.

A tall, young figure dashed out of the dimness of the big room and ran up to Vicki, a big smile spread all across his eager face.

"Hi, Joey!" Vicki greeted him. She took his outstretched hand, and he pumped hers in a warm but excited handshake. "How's the job going?"

"Swell, Miss Vicki! Just swell!"

Joey Watson was eighteen, tall, thin, and with long arms that dangled awkwardly from his skinny shoulders. As he stood grinning contagiously, he reminded Vicki of a friendly, energetic, oversized puppy. She couldn't help grinning back at him.

"Well," Vicki asked, "are there enough airplanes around here to suit you?"

"There sure are. I'd have taken any kind of job, even sweeping the place out, just to be around planes. And I can't thank you enough for getting this one for me."

Just then the dour foreman reappeared.

"Oh, Van," Joey said eagerly, "I want you to meet Miss Vicki Barr. She's a Federal stewardess and--" he added, his eyes shining, "a pilot."

Van mumbled an acknowledgment of the introduction. "Don't take too long a break, boy," he said to Joey. "Ed will need you on his cart to meet the three-fifty flight from Dallas."

The foreman nodded briskly to Vicki and walked off. Vicki looked after his wooden, uniformed figure. Was he naturally chilly, or just a nose-to-the-grindstone type? Oh, well! It really didn't matter. She'd probably never see him again. She turned her attention back to Joey.

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a pilot"--she smiled--"whatever you may think."

Joey's face wrinkled up in a grin. "Anyone who can fly is pretty big in my book." He pointed to an area of concrete strip between the warehouse and a service hangar next door. "See that Beech sitting over there?"

A small, twin-engine Beechcraft stood on the strip. The cowling had been removed from one of her engine nacelles and a man stood on a step-ladder tinkering with the motor.

"That's Steve Miller," Joey said. "He's a charter pilot here at the field, and he's promised to teach me to fly."

"Why, that's wonderful!" Vicki exclaimed, her eyes twinkling with pleasure. She knew that being able to fly was the most important thing in the boy's life.

"Steve's the best," Joey went on enthusiastically. "So's Van Lasher--he's the fellow I introduced you to just now. Gosh! Everybody around this airport is pretty swell."

"You just naturally like everybody that has anything to do with airplanes, don't you, Joey?"

"I sure do," he admitted. "Say, Miss Vicki, how long did it take you to solo? Were you nervous the first time?"

"I guess you're right," the boy said, laughing. "It wouldn't do to lose this job, now that I'm getting ready to be a fly boy for real."

Vicki said good-by and promised to look Joey up again. Then she walked back to the airport building.

Even though it had become a common, everyday sight to her, an airport waiting room never failed to fascinate Vicki. And this one at Tampa was particularly interesting. Passengers from incoming planes carried heavy coats that they had worn when they had left the northern winter weather. Sometimes friends, tanned and wearing gay-colored sports clothes, were waiting to greet them.

Through the big picture window She could see the air taxis waiting at one end of the field. Anyone who wished to fly across Tampa Bay to Clearwater or St. Petersburg, or across the Caribbean to Cuba or Mexico, could charter a plane like the one Joey's instructor--Steve Miller--flew. Everything seemed so easygoing and carefree here, Vicki thought, in this sun-kissed land where the breeze was scented with the perfume of flowers.

She stopped at the Federal reservations counter where she had left her bag, picked it up, and then went out the building's main entrance to look for a taxi.

Twenty minutes later the taxi pulled up at the Curtins' home, and Vicki, carrying her bag and topcoat, stepped out. She stopped for a moment, after she had paid her fare, to look at the dignified old house. It was red brick, old-fashioned and comfortable-looking, surrounded by a close-clipped lawn and rambling flower gardens. Two tall palm trees flanked it on either side. She opened the iron gate and walked down a flagstone path to the front door.

Before she could ring the bell, the door flew open and there stood Louise, looking more grownup than Vicki remembered her, with her dark hair done up in a chignon and a big smile of welcome on her beautiful, delicately tanned face. Louise had written that she was doing social work, but Vicki found it hard to believe that this lovely, vivacious girl could confine her energies to anything so unglamorous.

"Vicki! How wonderful to see you again!" Louise hugged her and then stepped back and appraised her. "You've changed!"

Vicki laughed. "It's pretty wonderful to see you, too. But you don't have to sound so accusing. You've changed yourself!"

"Only a volunteer, whenever the agency needs me. But tell me--"

A tall, slim figure ran lightly down a broad staircase at the end of the entrance hall.

"That's enough of this college reunion stuff, Louise. Introduce your kid sister!"

Louise laughed, apologized, and introduced Nina. Nina managed to tell Vicki, all in one breath, that she was only a year younger than Louise, had left college to take a fashion job in a Tampa dress shop, and thought flight stewardesses "have the most glamorous job in the world." When Vicki said her job involved some serious know-how about aviation and practical nursing, and dealing with people in general--and was not entirely glamorous--Nina refused to believe it.

"Sheer glamour," she insisted. "Even better than being an actress. I'm sure of it."

Louise looked amused and suggested that they had better invite their guest into the house. The girls showed Vicki to the guest room upstairs and waited, chattering about the plans they'd made for her, while she unpacked the few things she had brought with her and changed from her flight uniform into a bright cotton afternoon dress.

"Better bring more dresses on your next flight," Nina warned. "You'll need them for parties and going out."

They went back downstairs to the living room, which in late afternoon was filled with cool shadows and perfumed with the fresh scent of flowers wafted in through the open windows.

"I'll fix us something cool to drink," Nina said, and disappeared. A few minutes later she reappeared with a tall, frosty pitcher of lemonade and three glasses on a tray.

Vicki explained that Ginny was still in high school, and that her plans for the future kept changing from day to day as some new idea took her fancy.

Louise wanted to hear news about The Castle, the big rambling home of Vicki's family in Fairview, Illinois, which got its name from the fact that its tower and balcony really did resemble a castle, and which Louise had visited as often as she could when she and Vicki were classmates at State University. She asked about Mrs. Barr's rock garden; Freckles, the Barr spaniel; and what news Professor Barr brought home from the university. Vicki answered the torrent of questions as best she could, for it had been several weeks since she had been home.

The three girls chattered on and on without noticing the time, and were surprised when a cheerful male voice broke into their conversation:

"Well, where is she? Where's the little flier?"

A gray-haired man of medium height stood in the doorway to the room. He was dressed in a dark-blue business suit and wore heavy horn-rimmed glasses.

"Dad!" Louise cried, jumping up.

Vicki got to her feet and went forward, smiling, to take Mr. Curtin's outstretched hand. He was just the sort of father she'd expected Louise to have--a substantial businessman, soft-spoken, cheerful, cordial, good-humored. The smile he gave Vicki in return was the very essence of southern hospitality.

"It's nice of you to take in a stranger," Vicki said.

"You won't be a stranger in Tampa very long, Vicki," Mr. Curtin answered. "We'll see to that, won't we, girls?"

He sat down and lighted a cigarette.

"You came to town at just the right time," he said, exhaling a spiral of smoke that drifted upward and hung in a golden ray of late afternoon sunlight which slanted in through a window. "You'll be here for the Gasparilla Pirate Festival."

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