Wings in the Dark (21 page)

At noon the next day, Laura and I stood outside the hotel beneath a steady drizzle and waited for our ride. Laura kept her bandaged right hand inside the raincoat to keep it dry. A cane would have eased the pain of the burns to my ankle, but I was determined not to let anyone other than Laura know how badly I'd been injured.

Freddy held an umbrella over our heads. “Did you read my screenplay, Mr. Donovan?”

“I've been a little busy. But we have two more days before our ship leaves, and I've blocked out tomorrow morning to give it the attention it deserves.”

A familiar black convertible pulled up beside us.

Reggie smiled. “Looking for a lift?”

I chuckled. “If you promise to drive on the right side of the road.”

Freddy opened the passenger door, and Laura and I climbed in beside the Brit.

Reggie drove away from the hotel and handed me the morning newspaper.

Laura and I read the front-page story by Hunter Conway. The reporter hadn't questioned the official account. What really happened outside Wheeler Field was nowhere to be found in the story. He wrote about a police chase that resulted in a fiery crash claiming the life of Mikayla Sato, a suspect in the death of Hank Kalua. There was just a brief paragraph about the impending release of the woman initially charged in the case, Fanny Chandler.

Laura squeezed my arm. “No one will ever know the real story, darling, of your bravery and courage.”

Bravery and courage? “I was scared until you showed up and shot Mikayla's hand.”

Reggie fiddled with the controls and turned on the windshield wipers. “From an intelligence standpoint, it's best the Japanese not know what really happened.”

That was just fine with me. I wanted to get back to our honeymoon. In spite of the rain, I'd been tempted to skip this trip to the hangar to spend time on the beach with Laura, but she wouldn't miss Amelia's takeoff.

Laura stuffed the newspaper between her and Reggie. “Surely, Amelia wouldn't take off in these conditions.”

I wasn't so certain. “She's a determined woman.”

Reggie nodded toward Laura's bandage. “How's your hand?”

“I'll survive. Jake's burns are far worse, but he doesn't want anyone to know.”

We approached Wheeler Field, where two police cars sat near the burnt-out wreckage of the pickup. I closed my eyes as we passed by, realizing how close I came to being engulfed in flames. Mikayla Sato killed herself to avoid arrest and interrogation, but she'd wanted to take me with her.

At the front gate, Reggie handed the guard an ID card. “Reggie Gary, British Consulate.”

The man pointed to the familiar hangar. A crowd with umbrellas had gathered around Amelia's plane, which was sitting on the grass runway.

Near the hangar, Reggie showed a police officer his ID. The man unhooked a rope barricade and Reggie drove to the back of the hangar.

We got out near an army vehicle. The driver, a sergeant, climbed from the car and opened the rear door.

I squeezed Laura's hand. “I'll just be a few minutes.”

As Reggie and Laura hurried into the hangar, I approached the car.

Lieutenant Colonel George Patton invited me inside. “Congratulations, Donovan, on a job well done.”

I sat beside him. “Your report pointed me in the right direction.”

“Those Japs are sneaky bastards. A female agent! I heard things got pretty rough.”

I gave him a quick rundown of how I discovered Kitsune's identity, and then I described her death.

“Son of a bitch!”

“Aren't you coming inside? I have a surprise or two for a couple of deserving people.”

Patton chuckled. “Sounds tempting, but I already made a brief appearance. There are too many stuffed shirts and blue hairs for my taste. I only came to congratulate you. I have to return to my office, write a few letters, make a few phone calls, and kiss a few asses. I've got to stop feeling sorry for myself and get back to repairing my image and convince Washington they need me.”

I hoped he was successful. Washington did need someone like Patton. “I hope Kitsune's death will help.”

Patton smiled. “I suspect it will.”

I shook his hand and stood in the drizzle until the colonel's car was out of sight.

Inside, nearly a hundred people were sheltered from the rain at the front of the hangar. Theater-style ropes separated them from a few dozen VIPs. I guessed that included Laura and me.

Billy, in a three-piece suit, was flitting around attending to everyone's needs. He looked far more comfortable in this role than tracking down murderers.

He stopped and took my raincoat, then greeted an elderly couple at the door.

When I rejoined my wife, Reggie struck up a conversation with a pretty Hawaiian woman in a blue business suit. Laura cleared her throat and got my attention.

I followed her gaze toward a table with a large silver coffeepot and empty cups on it. I almost didn't recognize Landon Stoddard. Clean shaven for the first time, he wore a black suit and tie and spit-shined Italian shoes. With slicked-back hair, he looked like a model in a magazine ad.

Stoddard was chatting with two men in gray suits, panama hats, and colorful leis around their necks. He excused himself and walked our way. He greeted Laura and shook my hand.

“What's with the uniform?”

“My boss arrived a few hours ago.” He nodded toward the two men.

I took a closer look. One, about my age, had the distinguished look and bearing of a southern gentleman. The other was older, forty or so. Not even a smile could crack the unmistakable granite jaw I'd seen in the papers. “Your boss is J. Edgar Hoover?”

Stoddard shook his head. “My boss is Hoover's second in command, assistant director Clyde Tolson.”

Tolson seemed less like an assistant Division of Investigation director than a man who lit Hoover's cigarettes and made sure his suits were spiffy for public appearances.

Stoddard lowered his voice. “Hoover wants to meet you both. Jake, try and keep that Irish temper of yours in check. You don't want to make an enemy of Hoover.”

“Is he going to say something that might make me angry?”

“And no sarcasm. He hates that.”

“Sarcasm? Me?”

My leg was throbbing, but I was determined not to let Hoover see I was in pain. Stoddard led us toward the table and made the introductions.

Both men focused their attention on my wife. Tolson looked concerned and asked about her injured hand, and Hoover complimented Laura's chiffon dress.

Hoover shook my hand. He congratulated us on our recent nuptials, which I took as a not-so-subtle message the Division of Investigation had a file on me, Laura, or both.

I couldn't imagine Stoddard working for someone so controlling. Even Laura appeared not to like the guy, and she liked everybody.

Hoover gestured toward a vacant corner. “Mr. Donovan, a moment, please.”

“Sure.” The please was unexpected.

A look of concern swept over Stoddard's face—about my temper, no doubt.

We stopped in the corner, where Hoover got right to the point. “Stoddard's report details your role in the death of the Japanese agent known as Kitsune.”

My
role
? He used the word like he meant to arrest me for murder. “She committed suicide.”

“Her death ended any possibility the bureau could interrogate her.”

“You're right. It's hard to question dead people. They're always so uncooperative.”

Hoover's dark eyes narrowed. “We lost an opportunity to extract valuable information.”

“I had the exact same thought last night while my leg and head were on fire.”

Hoover didn't appear to appreciate my humor. “I understand you and Miss Wilson were involved in that New York business with Stoddard a couple years ago.”

“We did what we could, but Agent Stoddard deserves most of the credit.”

“I wasn't being complimentary, Mr. Donovan. In the future, leave Division of Investigation matters to agents trained in identifying and apprehending criminals.”

In New York and over the past two days, I'd worked with Stoddard on government-sanctioned activities, but I wouldn't throw him under the bus. “I have every intention of doing that, Director Hoover.”

Finally a smile. “I'm glad we have an understanding.”

“I'm an understanding guy.”

I was relieved when we rejoined the others. Hoover said good-bye to Laura. He kissed her hand without the bandage, as if he was her biggest fan. When Putnam emerged from a door in the back, Hoover and Tolson walked toward him.

Laura shook her head at Stoddard. “How can you work for that pompous windbag?”

Stoddard hesitated a moment. “I have a job to do.”

Something wasn't adding up. Stoddard was skilled working as a lone wolf with little or no supervision, and now he was under the thumb of two men he couldn't possibly respect. I saw the answer in his eyes and couldn't hold back a smile. “You son of a bitch. You're still working for Joe Kennedy, aren't you, keeping a close eye on J. Edgar Hoover.”

Stoddard grinned. “Save your imagination for your mystery novels.” He shook my hand, kissed Laura on the cheek, and rejoined Tolson and Hoover.

“I hope we never see that man again.”

Laura cocked her head. “I thought you liked him.”

“I do, but whenever he shows up, you and I end up barely escaping with our lives.”

Billy hurried toward us. “Miss Earhart wants to see you both.” He led us to a door marked
SUPPLIES
. Putnam and Amelia were inside a ten-by-ten room that must have recently been cleared of boxes, except for two uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs and a cot Amelia had no doubt slept in.

Amelia, in a leather jacket, with pilot's goggles on her head, embraced Laura. “I couldn't take off without properly thanking you both.”

She paused a moment then gave me a hug as well. “You both put your lives on the line for me. I'll never be able to thank you.”

That meant a lot coming from a woman who'd placed her life in jeopardy so many times, and was about to again. “What would life be if we never took risks?”

Amelia chuckled. “Touché.”

“Nor will I.” Putnam shook my hand, then kissed Laura's cheek.

Laura's eyes widened. “You're taking off in this rain?”

“The runway is safe.” Amelia checked her watch. “Have a pleasant voyage back. I'll see you both in California.”

She nodded to her husband, who opened the door. They entered the hangar to a round of applause, leaving Laura and me inside.

I dropped into a chair, taking the weight off my aching ankle.

As tears filled Laura's eyes, I handed her a handkerchief. I considered telling her Amelia would be all right, but we both knew many had tried to cross the Pacific and failed. “Let's go see her off.”

When we stepped from the room, Hunter Conway intercepted us. “You want to tell me what really happened last night? Laura's hand is bandaged and you're walking with a limp.”

I shrugged. “So your story lacked a few details. What does it matter?”

“The truth matters to me and my readers. You owe me, Donovan.”

Getting his byline on the front page and his crime desk job back was all that seemed to matter to the lying bum.

Conway's face softened as he glanced toward the back door. “I'll be damned.”

Detective Tanaka and Fanny Chandler entered. Fanny threw her arms around Laura. “Thanks for believing in me.”

“This is someone else who believed in you.” I introduced Fanny to Conway. With “exclusive” dancing in his eyes, the reporter took his notebook from his pocket as smoothly as a gambler grabbing a deck of cards. He peppered her with questions, as I knew he would.

Tanaka shook my hand, leaving a slip of paper in my palm. “You were right.”

I stuffed the paper in my trouser pocket.

Laura whispered. “So that's who you phoned this morning.”

“I'll explain after Conway leaves.”

A few minutes later, the reporter finished his questions. He tipped his hat to Fanny then shook my hand. “I owe you.”

“No, you don't. We're even.”

The reporter ducked beneath the ropes. He edged his way through the crowd, toward the front of the hangar.

I'd heard most of Conway's questions and Fanny's answers. After writing about Amelia's flight like every other reporter, he'd return to the
Honolulu Daily
and file something even more important to him, a story about how Fanny Chandler had been wrongly implicated in Hank Kalua's death.

Fanny's eyes glistened when Billy approached. She threw her arms around him and held him tightly.

I felt bad for Billy. “Fanny, if you don't mind, I have a few questions that are bothering me. Guess I can't shake that former detective inquisitiveness that keeps me up at night.”

“I'd be happy to explain.” With her narrowed eyes and pursed lips, she didn't look happy.

“Detective Tanaka discovered you've deposited two grand in your account since you arrived in Hawaii.”

The flush started at Fanny's neck and spread to her face. “It was…It was an advance on a flight Hank wanted to finance for me.”

“A five-hundred dollar deposit took place the day before he was murdered.”

“I guess that's right. The last few days have been such a blur.”

“What about the fifteen hundred you deposited the day after you arrived in Honolulu?”

“I'd brought a lot of cash with me and didn't want to carry that much around.”

I wasn't buying her story, and from Laura's expression, neither was she. Fanny had been paid when she arrived, to sabotage Amelia's plane.

Stoddard, Tolson, and Hoover moved closer to the conversation, but I ignored them. “The money deposited in your account didn't come from Kalua, did it?”