“Could I ask a few questions first?” Nancy asked. “There are some loose ends I’d like to tie up.”
“Sure. What do you want to know?”
“I know Blake Maxell planted the bomb on the plane, but how did he do it?”
“It was almost too simple,” the detective answered. “He put the bomb in a suitcase and checked it through baggage onto the plane.”
“And was it Linda who threw the rock through Preston Talbot’s window?” Nancy asked.
“That’s right. She was trying to warn you to stay away.”
Nancy used this chance to bring up all the reasons she felt Linda should be given special consideration. “I’ll see what I can do,” Detective Haggarty promised.
“Have you gotten back any of the stolen merchandise?” Nancy finally asked as they wound up the interview.
“Some. The Ming vase Miranda Cummings had in her possession was stolen from her apartment by Grant Sweeney. We recovered that from his apartment—”
“Can I ask something?” Bess spoke up. “How did Maxell know about Nancy? And how did Linda Cotilla know? We’d barely gotten to Seattle before the rock was thrown through Mr. Talbot’s window.”
“Good question,” Nancy said, turning back to the detective. “I’ve wondered how they got their information so fast. It kept making me think Mr. Talbot was involved. He was the only one who could know.”
Detective Haggarty inclined his head. “I have to hand it to Maxell. He rigged up Talbot’s interoffice intercom so it was always on and connected to his own office. That way he could monitor all of the president’s conversations. As soon as Jennifer told him you were coming, he was prepared. He warned Linda about you, but—as you know— Linda took the opportunity to warn you.”
A knock sounded at the door, and another officer strode into the room. “Good news,” he said. “Sweeney’s been caught, and so has Dawkins. Looks as though this case is just about wrapped up.”
“Wow,” Bess said sleepily as they walked toward Victory’s flight counter a few minutes later. “I can’t remember the last time I felt so tired.” She leaned against Mark’s arm.
“Me, too,” Jennifer murmured.
“Uh-oh,” Nancy said under her breath when she saw Paul approaching.
“What’s wrong?” Bess followed her gaze.
“Hello, beautiful,” Paul said, dropping an arm over Nancy’s shoulders. “Maybe we can take up where we left off last night. As I recall, you’d just come around to my way of thinking.”
The kiss! Nancy’s heart sank. She’d forgotten all about it. “Paul, about that kiss . . .”
“Yeah?”
Feeling everyone’s eyes on her, Nancy said helplessly, “It was a diversionary tactic. Done in the line of duty, so to speak.”
“Cut the detective mumbo-jumbo. Does that mean we have a date, or not?”
He’d really tried to help. Nancy couldn’t bear to let him down. “Tonight, after we’ve all had some rest, we’re going out to celebrate,” she said. “We’d love it if you came along.”
“I’ll be there,” Paul said. Then with a grin he added, “You’ve got great lips, kid.”
“Somehow I have the feeling I’m going to regret this,” Nancy said.
Mark and Sean kissed Jennifer and Bess goodbye. Nancy looked away and let her thoughts turn to Ned.
After Mark and Sean had left, Jennifer said fervently, “I want you both to know that I’m going to stick to flying! From now on, you can do all the detecting, Nancy. It’s too dangerous for me!”
“I’m glad.” Nancy stifled another yawn. “And now I think it’s time to go home,” she said. “I’m done in. What a night!”
“You know, Nancy, I’ve been thinking,” Bess said as they walked to Jennifer’s car. “Maybe we should keep the rental car and drive back to River Heights.”
“Sorry, Bess,” Nancy said. “But we’re going to have to fly home. There’s someone waiting for me there, and I don’t want to waste any more time getting back to him.” It was her turn to spend time in the arms of the guy she loved.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Carolyn Keene, Wings of Fear
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