The Black Heart Crypt

Once the trunks and bags and cats were loaded into the back of the family van, Zack and his dad helped the elderly aunts step up into the vehicle.

Aunt Hannah, claiming seniority, would be riding shotgun.

Zack sat in the back on the bench seat, sandwiched between ginormous Aunt Sophie and smiling Aunt Ginny. Actually, Sophie was so wide-bottomed, Zack and Ginny were basically sharing the right half of the bench.

“ ‘Bradley Airport,’ ” said Aunt Ginny, reading the big road sign as they drove past it. “ ‘Welcome to Connecticut. The Constitution State. Enjoy Your Visit.’ Do you read billboards, Zack?”

“Well, not out loud …”

“Oh, it’s an excellent way to sharpen one’s reading skills, don’t you think?”

“I guess.”

“Do you know why they call this Bradley Airport?” Aunt Ginny was beaming at Zack the way a good teacher does, the kind who wants you to learn everything she already knows.

“No, ma’am.”

“Well, that’s all right. Very few people in Connecticut do. You see, the airfield was named after a World War II fighter pilot named Eugene Bradley, a young man from Antlers, Oklahoma, who, during a training exercise, crashed his plane in the woods just north of here.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. Lieutenant Bradley was the first fatality at what, in 1941, was a brand-new army air base.”

“Neat. So, how come you know all this stuff?”

“Don’t forget, dear: Hannah, Sophie, and I grew up in North Chester with your grandpa Jim.”

“Right.”

Now Aunt Ginny leaned in closer and covered her mouth so she and Zack could share a secret.

“I also think the plane crash is why Lieutenant Bradley is forever pacing around that baggage carousel. He must be looking for his lost flight bag.”

Zack’s eyes widened.

Aunt Ginny winked.

She’d seen the pilot with the seat strapped to his seat, too!