Read Online The Death of Lorenzo Jones by Brad Latham - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brad Latham
Ads: Link
he had ever had, only not too hot. “Good thing I like it black.” Lockwood needed the brew.
“Now you’re talking! A tough guy, that’s what you are, Lockwood. You should be a pilot.”
“Call me Bill. You’re a tough lady. And a pretty one. Very pretty.”
“Well, cheers. Thanks for the compliment. Here’s to more of the same.”
Lockwood spent the next two hours snooping, while Amanda worked on her plane. He walked to the end of the runway.
Using the little sketch he had made in the air, he found the way to the crash site in the tall weeds. There was nothing left
but two bolts. The high weeds might be hiding more though. Lockwood put the two bolts in his pocket. Nowhere in the weeds
did he find the thermos that Lorenzo had carried in the plane with him, not even after a full two-hour search.
Of course, it
could
have been thrown a few hundred feet, but Lockwood doubted it. He saw the tracks of a tractor and a spent fire extinguisher.
The tractor had obviously dragged the wreckage back to the little service road of the big Old Gold sign, then along a dirt
road to the runway. He finished looking about the burned area, then walked along the tractor ruts, scaring toads and a few
field mice. Not a piece of wreckage and definitely no thermos along the gouged tracks, nor along the access road to the sign.
At one point he was directly under the huge girders of the spuds sign. No place to hide anything there. Just raw metal, rusting
a bit.
Not finding the thermos was much better than finding it, in Lockwood’s estimation. Someone who might have poisoned Lorenzo’s
coffee, say, would be most anxious to retrieve that thermos with its telltale traces of whatever had been used.
For a while, the theory he had been forming—that Lorenzo might have been poisoned—had seemed farfetched. Lock-wood had been
hoping that someone along the way would tell him that Lorenzo had been suicidally depressed. That would be enough to get Transatlantic
off the hook, coupled with the erratic way Lorenzo veered at takeoff. Hell-bent on killing himself.
That trouble was that Lorenzo had been a cheery son of a bitch. Lockwood stood there in the weeds and pondered. I wouldn’t
let anyone I poisoned fly off with the evidence of my crime, a thermos, to be found later. Whoever did it would have been
a fool. Or perhaps, just
perhaps
, they hadn’t expected Lorenzo to drink his poisoned coffee so soon.
That could be it. The killer would have expected Jones to be in the air miles away when he drank the poisoned coffee. The
crash then would have been in some deserted area, especially if Jones had been headed upstate, as was stated.
Yeah. The thermos would have been consumed by fire along with the body and the plane. But here, where the plane had crashed
too close to the airfield, maybe someone had rushed out and found the thermos.
Satisfied that he had checked thoroughly for the thermos, Hook went back to the runway.
He walked back to Amanda, who was still fooling about in her engine compartment with a wrench.
“Amanda, I went looking for that thermos, but it’s not at the crash site, nor in the wreckage. Who went out to the crash scene?”
Amanda frowned. “Boy, what a suspicious mind! Maybe Lorenzo just didn’t take it with him on that flight?”
“Could be.”
“Well, the FAA guys went later with a tractor. Me and Rodney went right away. Rodney’s a mechanic. Rodney cut him out of the
wreck. Pretty heroic. It was burning. Stinky came, too.”
Lockwood said, “Maybe I’ll ask him a few questions.”
CHAPTER
10
“Well, there’s Stinky.” Amanda pointed toward a kid. “He was crazy about that baseball player.”
The kid was tall for his age, about sixteen years old. He had a serious look and was carrying a full set of wrenches. He was
dressed in brown surplus Air Corps coveralls, smeared with grease, and had freckles and brown hair. He gave Lock-wood a look
that could kill as he
“Now you’re talking! A tough guy, that’s what you are, Lockwood. You should be a pilot.”
“Call me Bill. You’re a tough lady. And a pretty one. Very pretty.”
“Well, cheers. Thanks for the compliment. Here’s to more of the same.”
Lockwood spent the next two hours snooping, while Amanda worked on her plane. He walked to the end of the runway.
Using the little sketch he had made in the air, he found the way to the crash site in the tall weeds. There was nothing left
but two bolts. The high weeds might be hiding more though. Lockwood put the two bolts in his pocket. Nowhere in the weeds
did he find the thermos that Lorenzo had carried in the plane with him, not even after a full two-hour search.
Of course, it
could
have been thrown a few hundred feet, but Lockwood doubted it. He saw the tracks of a tractor and a spent fire extinguisher.
The tractor had obviously dragged the wreckage back to the little service road of the big Old Gold sign, then along a dirt
road to the runway. He finished looking about the burned area, then walked along the tractor ruts, scaring toads and a few
field mice. Not a piece of wreckage and definitely no thermos along the gouged tracks, nor along the access road to the sign.
At one point he was directly under the huge girders of the spuds sign. No place to hide anything there. Just raw metal, rusting
a bit.
Not finding the thermos was much better than finding it, in Lockwood’s estimation. Someone who might have poisoned Lorenzo’s
coffee, say, would be most anxious to retrieve that thermos with its telltale traces of whatever had been used.
For a while, the theory he had been forming—that Lorenzo might have been poisoned—had seemed farfetched. Lock-wood had been
hoping that someone along the way would tell him that Lorenzo had been suicidally depressed. That would be enough to get Transatlantic
off the hook, coupled with the erratic way Lorenzo veered at takeoff. Hell-bent on killing himself.
That trouble was that Lorenzo had been a cheery son of a bitch. Lockwood stood there in the weeds and pondered. I wouldn’t
let anyone I poisoned fly off with the evidence of my crime, a thermos, to be found later. Whoever did it would have been
a fool. Or perhaps, just
perhaps
, they hadn’t expected Lorenzo to drink his poisoned coffee so soon.
That could be it. The killer would have expected Jones to be in the air miles away when he drank the poisoned coffee. The
crash then would have been in some deserted area, especially if Jones had been headed upstate, as was stated.
Yeah. The thermos would have been consumed by fire along with the body and the plane. But here, where the plane had crashed
too close to the airfield, maybe someone had rushed out and found the thermos.
Satisfied that he had checked thoroughly for the thermos, Hook went back to the runway.
He walked back to Amanda, who was still fooling about in her engine compartment with a wrench.
“Amanda, I went looking for that thermos, but it’s not at the crash site, nor in the wreckage. Who went out to the crash scene?”
Amanda frowned. “Boy, what a suspicious mind! Maybe Lorenzo just didn’t take it with him on that flight?”
“Could be.”
“Well, the FAA guys went later with a tractor. Me and Rodney went right away. Rodney’s a mechanic. Rodney cut him out of the
wreck. Pretty heroic. It was burning. Stinky came, too.”
Lockwood said, “Maybe I’ll ask him a few questions.”
CHAPTER
10
“Well, there’s Stinky.” Amanda pointed toward a kid. “He was crazy about that baseball player.”
The kid was tall for his age, about sixteen years old. He had a serious look and was carrying a full set of wrenches. He was
dressed in brown surplus Air Corps coveralls, smeared with grease, and had freckles and brown hair. He gave Lock-wood a look
that could kill as he
Similar Books
