The Christine Murders (2 page)

“No, he doesn’t. He says he’s just fine, it doesn’t matter. He was worried about you, was afraid you might have fallen when you were serving. And he said he felt he knew you.” Bill was looking at her with a mischievous half smile creeping across his lips.

“Knew me? From where?”

“Home, San Francisco. He lives there, too. Told me he’s an American citizen, has lived in San Francisco for several years.”

“Well, no, I don’t know him, Bill, and I don’t want to, so don’t give me that look. I’ll log the incident, just in case he changes his mind later and decides I totally ruined his best suit and tie. You never know with people.” Bill still looked amused. “Forget it, Bill; he is definitely not my type.”

“Did I say he was, love? But believe me, he’s not my type either. Something is a bit off there, I’d say. But, maybe we are both being unfair.” Attendants were joining them in the galley, ready to pick up trays of hot towels. Bill too removed a tray of hot fragrant towels from a galley oven, picked up a pair of tongs, and turned back to the cabin. “If you take that side, I’ll do this one, so you don’t have to visit your friend again. Honestly, some of the people we meet in this job!”

***

Flight 1005 from London to San Francisco landed forty minutes behind schedule, which was not bad considering some of the delays carriers could experience taking off from London’s crowded and busy airports. Once the passengers had exited the aircraft, the crew followed, tired and glad to be back at home base. U.S. Customs was the last small detail remaining now. Another trip was successfully completed, with nothing more complicated than a little rough weather along the way.

***

Inside the Customs area, Luther Ross-Wilkerson waited quietly for his luggage, watching the commotion around him as his fellow passengers scrambled about the luggage carousels, grabbing baggage, loading carts, and pushing toward the Customs counters. Luther took his time. He was in no special hurry this evening. He never could understand why people were always in such a hurry all the time. He would wait until all these people had dragged their baggage and belongings from the carousels, pushing past one another like the savages some of them became in these situations. He would wait until the Customs counters had cleared decently before he presented himself and his Louis Vuitton suitcase and his documents and clear U.S. Customs like the gentleman he was.

He spotted the flight crew going into the Crew Customs room, and his heart began to race. His cold blue eyes searched the group and found the tall, slender blonde, Christine Lindsey. He watched as she turned and disappeared into the Customs room.

Christine. So like his Alyson. He knew already that he wanted this new woman. Alyson had been gone for so long. He had been alone for such a long time. And he had behaved, had not gotten himself into any trouble of any sort. It was time for someone new.

He waited until the Customs hall was almost empty and an agent beckoned to him to come forward before he walked over to the counters, his mind still boggled with what had taken place on the flight back from London.

He knew he had to see Christine again, to talk to her, to tell her how much he would love her.

Maybe this was a sign of a new beginning for him, a whole wonderful new phase in his life. Something he could be happy about again. That would be a good thing. God alone knew he deserved some happiness. And he wouldn’t make the same mistakes. Never again.

But how was he going to handle this now? How was he to get Christine? As he went through the necessary motions with Customs, his mind was filled with nothing but Christine Lindsey. She had been sent to him, no doubt of that. This could not be a coincidence. Now he only had to figure out a way to claim her.

CHAPTER TWO

The final warm rays of late September sunlight spilled through the bay windows of Christine’s downtown apartment as she arrived home. On a cushioned window seat, a large red cat woke from his nap, stretched, and meowed a welcome before padding happily toward Christine. She scooped the big cat up into her arms. “Good evening, Tommy my boy. Did I interrupt your nap? Oh, it’s always so good to come home to you!”

The cat nestled against her, purring his welcome loudly, his large paws kneading Christine’s shoulder. She carried him to the kitchen. “Has Laura been in yet?” An empty dish on the kitchen floor, licked clean, gave her the answer; a dozen tins of cat food piled on the counter top displayed a note from her sitter:
“I bought extra food for Tommy, and also some fresh milk and croissants for you. Love, Laura
”

Laura had also left a stack of mail on the dining room table. Christine glanced at the answering machine on the kitchen counter. The message light glowed. Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered with a land-line anymore, since she used her cell almost exclusively. But still, it was convenient at times. She would listen to her messages later. She knew there would be something there from Ted, as always. She put the cat down and picked up her tea kettle, filled it, and put it on to boil. Then she went to change into a robe and slippers.

The kettle was boiling when she returned to the kitchen. Tommy sat there, sniffing Christine’s suitcase and flight bag. He had smelled the piece of roast beef she had taken for him from the First Class meal leftovers. Christine took out the meat, cut it up in Tommy’s dish, and poured herself a cup of tea. Then she settled onto the window seat and let the last of the weakening sunlight fall across her face while she sipped her tea and relaxed.

She had been a flight attendant with International World Airlines for fifteen years. As each year’s anniversary rolled around, she would marvel that she had kept the job as long as she had. She had thought at first that she might fly for two or three years at most and then move on to something else, marriage most likely. But she enjoyed her work, and each year she had decided to stay on one more year, until finally she had stopped counting and realized that flying had become her career and the world her place of business.

And considering the men she’d met and become involved with over the years, it was a good thing she’d decided to put marriage on perpetual hold. For an intelligent and attractive woman, she’d certainly met her share of losers, as had so many other women she knew. She had no answer why. There simply had never been the one man she could look at and say truthfully, yes, you are the one meant for me.

Aside from work, the only constant in her life had been Bill Arnett. They’d met during flight training in Miami and become close friends, sharing an apartment together when they’d taken their first assignments in New York. Eight years ago, they had applied together for a transfer to San Francisco. Both had met people they felt might lead to a permanent relationship, so they had opted for separate apartments. Those relationships had failed for both of them, but instead they had fallen in love with San Francisco. The move had proven to be a wise choice. Life in their new city suited both of them very well, even if both had been unlucky in love.

***

The sun had set and the apartment had filled with shadows before Christine got up to make a second cup of tea. As she waited for the water to boil, her cell phone rang.

“Hello Bill,” she called, reaching over to shut off the burner.

“Hi, Christy, hope I didn’t disturb you. Were you in bed yet?”

“No, not yet. Still unwinding, just relaxing here.”

“Same here. That was a bit of a rough trip today. I thought we’d never be able to stand up long enough to get anything finished. Right now I’m sitting here sipping a drink and thinking about what else I could do with my life besides running meals and drinks to groups of rude crazy people who then complain to you about delays and their lost luggage. There has to be more to life, don’t you think so.”

Christine laughed. “Come on, Bill, you know you love it, and where else would we have had a job like this? Look at the places we’ve been to. Look at the experiences. Yes, it’s tough at times and some people are horrible, but look at the good side.” This was familiar ground they had both been over before.

“Aren’t we supposed to meet and marry some rich man? I’m serious, Christy. Actually, any man would do these days, you know. Just have a job and a car that runs and clean clothing.”

Christine laughed out loud. “Bill, don’t start, please.”

“Which one? The job, the car, or the clean clothes? All right, I won’t, not now at least. I’m just lonely. But I’ll let you get back to your scotch or whatever you are unwinding with.”

“Tea and a hot bath tonight, dear one.”

“One of those nights, huh? Okay, sounds good. But, say, how about a drive tomorrow? Maybe a few hours in Carmel? Remember we wanted to check out that other gallery we couldn’t get into last time? What about it? If we leave early enough this time around we should have plenty of hours there to browse. I’m still thinking about those sculptures I fell in love with.”

“Sounds delightful,” Christine told him. “I didn’t have anything else planned.”

“Not even Ted MacIntyre, San Francisco’s most eligible rich bachelor?”

Christine groaned. “Especially
not
Ted MacIntyre.”

“That sounds ominous,” Bill replied. “Don’t tell me Ted’s finally on his way to the discard pile.”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Christine sighed. “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

“All right. Sounds good. Shall I pick you up about nine? Is that okay?”

“Yes, perfect.”

“Then get back to the hot tea and the tub. Kiss fat Tommy for me.”

“Good night, Bill.” What would she do without him? The two of them helped and relied on each other constantly, each serving as an anchor for the other. Tomorrow would be enjoyable. But right now, that hot bath was the most appealing thing in the world to Christine.

***

Across the city, at a desk in a large and elegant apartment with a spectacular sweeping view of San Francisco Bay, Luther Ross-Wilkerson scrolled through a Google listing for International World Airlines in San Francisco, stopping when he found Flight Services. Well, yes, that might be what he wanted. He jotted down the phone number and reached for his cell phone, tapping a pen impatiently against the surface of the desk while he waited for an answer to his call.

“Flight Services, Susan Carlatti speaking. May I help you?”

Well, he hoped so. This was the only way he could think of to get things moving.

He was excited, euphoric even, but nervous. He took a few deep breaths before speaking. The first step of his plan had begun.

CHAPTER THREE

TUESDAY - OCTOBER 4
th

“Chris, you’re here early today.” Christine, reporting for a flight to Honolulu, waved greetings to the IWA flight schedulers before heading to the crew lounge to await briefing.

“I’ll do anything to beat rush-hour traffic, even if it means sitting here an extra hour.”

Inside the crew lounge, Christine emptied her mailbox, grabbed a cup of coffee, and made herself comfortable. Her flight was the first scheduled out this evening, and she was the first attendant to arrive.

She scanned the assorted manual updates and company bulletins that made up her usual airline mail and was sliding the papers into her tote bag when a small pink slip fell out from the stack and fluttered to the floor. Christine bent to pick up the sheet; it was a telephone message note, dated September 30
th
.

‘
Please call Mr. Wilkerson, at 415-734-8989 – Urgent!’
That was all. No company name, no message. Just urgent. The note was initialed by one of the secretaries in the flight supervisors’ office.

Mr. Wilkerson. Who was Mr. Wilkerson? Christine ran through a mental list of acquaintances and former boyfriends, trying to place the name since it did sound familiar, but without luck. The secretarial staff was still working, so she decided to see if the person who had taken the message could tell her anything more.

She found the woman she was looking for at her desk, just preparing to leave for the day.

“Susan? One quick question before you go.”

Susan Carlatti looked up and smiled. “Oh, hi Chris, how’re you doing? What can I help you with?”

Christine handed her the message slip. “You took this call?”

Susan read the note quickly and nodded. “Yes, I did, I remember it. I was working late that night, the only one here at the time. Why?”

“It was for me? I mean, are you sure he asked for me?”

Susan nodded. “Oh yes, I remember this one well. He kept repeating your name, and I said, yes, she works for us and I’ll see she gets your message.”

“What else did he say?”

“Not much else. Only that he needed to talk to you and didn’t know any other way to reach you. So he had decided to call here. He said he knew you – yes, I do recall he told me that. Then he just asked again that I make sure to give you this message. He also said something about not having your home number, and of course I told him we do not give out any employee’s number, to anyone. I reassured him that I would leave the message here for you and you would pick it up with your crew mail. Then he asked me to mark down that it was urgent.” Susan looked at Chris, concerned. “Why, Chris, is something wrong? Who is this man?”