First Class Killing

Chapter 18

“WHAT ISWRONG WITH YOU?” TRISTAN HELD up the paper target so I could see. Except for a crescent-shaped nick on the right side of the upper border of the page, it was completely intact. I had taken fourteen shots at it. “Are you still hung over from the party?”

“That party was two days ago.”

“You were pretty wasted.”

I wasn’t hung over. I was frazzled by the high-speed dash in late-afternoon traffic to get out to the range, and I was distracted by the details of the case. It might have been a mistake to turn down that massage. I could have used an hour of deep-tissue relaxation.

“Not my day, Tristan. I’m sorry. I can’t concentrate.”

“That excuse will not fly when you take your test. What if that day is a bad day, too? You have to learn to push through it. I’ll help you. Come on.”

“Can we take a break, please?” I didn’t leave him much choice. I set the weapon down and went to the picnic table to grab a seat. Eventually, he came and slipped onto the bench across from me.

He gave me his stern face, which could be comical. But then he lightened up, pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, and unfolded it. “Maybe this will cheer you up.” He began to quote from the page.

“ ‘Subject was alert and observant and treated each passenger as if he or she were the only one onboard. Highest rating.’ ”

“What is that?”

“This, my dear, is your sparkling report from yesterday’s ghost rider.”

“Alert and observant?” I had to smile at that. “Imagine what I could have done if I hadn’t still been half in the bag. How do you have access to a report like that? I thought results were top secret.”

“It pays not to burn your bridges. Here’s something else I know. If you had missed that trip, you’d be on the street right now.”

“Did I tell you how much I appreciated all your help yesterday?”

“Yes, you did, but it’s always good to hear it again. You need to pace yourself. Take it from me; the lifestyle gets really old really fast, and it’s not good for your skin.”

Again with the skin.

“Drinking too much and going on two hours of sleep. And then getting on a six-hour flight with all that recycled cabin air. Although I give you special dispensation because of what happened with your brother. I suppose that could drive anyone into a tequila embrace. Speaking of which, what have you done about him?”

“Nothing.”

“Why not?”

“I lost his number.” He gave me the look that lame excuse deserved. “I did. I had it in the pocket of my uniform out in LA. I was moving it from pocket to pocket, and then it was just gone. I don’t know what happened to it.”

“You need to straighten this out, dear. I know it’s why you’re so spacey.”

“No. Jamie and I have been fighting for a long time.”

“But you saw him. That had to do something.”

“We’ve had fights before, and we’ve always made up. If this were about anything but my father…this feels different.”

“Because it is. It’s big. I’m sure the idea of Jamie reaching out to him like that really hurts.”

“I’m not hurt. I’m angry.”

“You’re lying, sweetie. I’m sorry, but you just are.”

He looked one way. I looked the other.

“You know what?” He turned sideways on the bench, pulled one of his long legs up, and folded it like a coat hanger. “I don’t usually talk about nine-eleven, but I’ll make an exception for you.” He inhaled deeply and, as he let go of the breath, seemed to age ten years in front of my eyes.

“On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was in Fort Myers at the airport getting ready to work a flight home. We heard something had happened, something bad. We all went up and crowded into this bar to watch TV. It was one of those rare moments in life when you feel completely accepted, totally on equal footing with everyone around you. There were passengers there, first class and coach. Pilots. Ramp rats. CEOs. Janitors. We all had our arms around each other, and anyone who wasn’t completely struck dumb by what we were seeing was crying or trying to get through to someone on a cell phone. I was one of the ones crying.

“The next day, I picked up the phone and called Barry, and I told him yes, I would move in with him. He’d been asking me for months. Then I rented a car with a couple of the gals from the crew, and we drove back to Boston, and two weeks later, Barry and I were cohabitating like an old married couple, and now here I am participating in a ‘committed relationship,’ something I said I would never do because even the term itself makes me retch, and I’ve never been happier. Next thing you know, we’ll be having babies, God help us, and in case my point is not obvious enough for you-”

“It is.”

“I’ll say it anyway, because I love hearing myself give sage advice. You could get up to go to work tomorrow, Alexandra, board your flight, and never come back.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“One minute, you’re serving up orange juice and seltzer on a tray, and the next, you’ve become part of some dreadful historical event, and you disappear from the face of the earth. Poof! You’re gone. I meangone gone. Vanished. Not even so much as a molar left-”

“Tristan, I get it.”

He tipped his head and looked at me. “Think about it this way. If you had to make that last call on your cell phone, who would you call? If it’s your brother, don’t you think you should know his phone number?”