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The Wolf Without Wings
Took a while t't'umb through th' file again,
an' by th' time I'd finished, th' RHA flight wuz comin' in.
Watched th' big Sikorsky-Hartford swoop in likea big, burly hawk, an'
come t'a real nice landin' at th' Terminal. Figurin' that it would be a
while fer th' Customs boys an' th' redcaps t'get their job done, I went
t' th' diner an' had a cuppa java. Can tell I'm an expert at
killin' time, cantcha?Part 1 (continued) by E.O. Costello Anyhoo, two cups later, I strolls on back. The redcaps were finishin' up wit' th' steamer trunks, an' th' hotel guides was leadin' th' tourists out t' th' hotel boats, t' make th' run over t' Casino Island. Th' line at th' Customs shed had thinned out, so it didn't prove no trouble an' such t' spot my boss. He was standin' in front of th' table, lookin' a bit uncomfortable. Coulda been his clothes. He was wearin' a white linen suit a size too big that had seen better days for 'nother owner, judgin' from th' sweat stains an' mendin' I was seein', and his shirt didn't fit, neither. More'n likely, though, it was th' twice-over th' boys at Customs were givin' his passport. Even across th' shed, I could see th' Red Cross on the white passport, and the looks he was gettin'. Not that he could see 'em, since he wuz lookin' down at his hooves, and leanin' on his cane. I decided t' break up th' party, an' strolled over. "S'ok, Rusty," I says t' th' senior of th' two Customs guys "this is my new boss." Rusty gives me a look, at Stagg, an' back at me again, an' then makes wit' a shrug. He took out his stamp, gave th' passport a thump, an' flipped th' passport on over t'Stragg, who reached out, picked it up, an' put it away real quick-like inside his jacket. I thought a bit more of a friendly greetin' would help. I smiled an' stuck out a paw. "Welcome to Spontoon, sir. I'm Sergeant Brush, I'm s'posed t'be workin' under ya." Stagg turned t' look at me. Maybe he was tired from th' trip an' all, but he looked real strained around his eyes. He shifted over his cane t' his left paw, an' took mine an' shook it. Gentle an' dry, sorta like his voice. "Thank you, Sergeant. I appreciate your coming out here for me." "'Course, sir." I looked around. "Redcaps got your luggage an' all, sir?" Stagg looks down, an' sorta half-hearted wit' a paw points out a small, flimsy, kinda bashed cardboard suitcase at his hooves. "No, this...well, this is all." He looks a bit 'barrassed, an' his voice trailed off a bit. Rusty looked at me, looked over at a pile a steamer trunks headin' off to the hotels, an' gave a real ironic smile an' a wink. Gave him one of them "shut up" looks (which got a shrug from him), an' I takes up Stagg's suitcase. "C'mon, sir, an' I'll get you t' your quarters." An' so we walked outta th' main Terminal Building, over near th' dock, where I'd left our ride. I looked around for th' police cutter. One a' the uniformed constables on duty there gives me th' high sign, flaggin' me down. "Breakdown call in the channel. The cox'll be back in a few." So we sits in the sun a bit. I thought Stagg was asleep, 'cause I didn't hear no peep outta him fer some time. But then I hears him speakin' quiet like, sorta like t' no one, see? "Sergeant, be discreet: do you see that fellow over there in the blazer, tie and white duck pants?" I looks over, an' sees th' fella he was describin', a slickster wolf, who wuz lookin' real pleased wit' hisself, an' readin' a paper. "Yep. Lookin' kinda smug, ain't he?" "Probably for good reason. I suspect he is, right now, carrying three wallets, two of which are not his. If that uniformed officer is still here, would you have the wolf brought over to our bench? I suggest you stand a few yards away. There will, I imagine, be some action." Hunh. Dunno what this Stagg had in mind, but what th' hell. Gave a few orders t' th' uniform, an' saw him walk over. I'll be damned if th' fella didn't get th' wind up when he seen th' officer comin', and start runnin'. Right past Stagg. Didn't make it past, neither, 'cause Stagg stuck out his cane, and sent him sprawlin'. Stagg was up in a flash, an' pinned the guy's paws behind his back. The officer came hustlin' over, an' hauled him up. Stagg, cool as can be, reached into our pal's jacket, and pulled out one, two, three wallets, just like a magician, an' handed 'em t' me.  "Place a call to the Marleybone Grand Hotel. The proper owners are likely checking in now, and it would be best if they had their papers. The Tourist Board, I'm sure, wants to avoid unpleasantness." The constable had been joined by twoa his buddies, an' they took th' perp an' th' wallets off t' deal wit' 'em. Stagg watched 'em go, an' then sat back down, leaned on his cane, an' closed his eyes, like he wuz gonna drift offen t' take a nap. "Sir?" Stagg opened an eye, an' looked over at me. "That was real sharp." Stagg shrugged. "When I see a healthy, seemingly sober, well-dressed young wolf stumble a few times, in the space of just a few minutes, against tourists too busy thinking about getting on the right ferries to their hotels to notice they're getting 'bumped,' one develops suspicions. Greedy. Didn't think anyone would notice. I think this is our boat, Sergeant, is it not?" Thursday, 26 July 1934, 0415 Heard a loud buzzin' on th' table next t' me, an' I opens my eyes. It wuz th' phone, an' at 0415, too. Picked it up 'fore it woke up Kiki (she's my mate, see). It was Marge, th' night operator at th' 'phone company. She sounded awful chipper fer someone so damn early in th' mornin'. "Sorry to wake ya, Orrin. Got a message from some fella named Stagg. You know him?" I grunts, an' she took it as'n affirmative. "Says to head on over to the Marine Air Terminal, but to stop off an pick up some camera equipment at HQ first." I mumbled somethin' to the effect a "Okeh" an' hangs up. Kiki could hear me fumblin' round in th' dark fer my pants an' shirt, an' asked what was up. <Negative knowledge-self. Karok-son-Karok-self imperative metal-bird nest visit. Superior new additionally creature with horns outlander request Karok-son-Karok assist.> Ain't no way o' sayin' "Ball o' fire fer a new boss" in Spontoonie, see. Headin' on over t' HQ over on Meetin' Island, I did some thinkin'. Couldn't believe Stagg wuz already workin', an' him not even sworn in proper-like. Thought he looked tired when I helps him check in th' hotel th' previous night, but on t'other hand, he may have wanted t' get outta th' lobby, 'fore he got any more looks from th' staff. Told the Chief we shouldn'ta picked Shepherd's Hotel, that's a hotel for the terminally rich. I figured he'd want a few days to settle in, get th' hang of things. Looks like it was his bad luck he hadda hit th' ground runnin'. Anyway, I gets over t' th' MAT just 'fore 0500, with a Speed Graphic, whole buncha packs a' film, and somethin called a "Murder Box" that th' Chief had ordered up from Hawaii. Looked in it; buncha envelopes, bottles, powders an' other stuff. Hell, we *wuz* gettin' perfess'nal! Lugged the stuff outta th' boat, an' headed on up to where th' dock was. Still kinda dark, though you coulda seen th' sun gettin' ready an' all. Spotted th' boss near th' dock, with a pair a' binocs 'round his neck, an' I walks on over t' him. When he seen me comin', he walked over, and quiet-like took the Murder Box from my hand, an' gave me a pat on th' shoulder. He looked a lot better Ôround th' eyes, though he wuz lookin' more rumpled'n ever in th' wardrobe 'partment. "I'm sorry to get you out of bed at this ungodly hour, Sergeant, but I wanted both of us here to greet a plane." "What’s th' problem?" "I don't know." Stagg looked at a small notebook. "The radio tower got a message logged in at 0342 this morning from a private seaplane, one making a run from Los Antelopes to here. Rather cryptic: it said merely that someone had fallen out of the plane, and that the police should be contacted." "*Fallen* outta th' plane?" "Yes. Like I said, rather cryptic, and the pilot has been stingy with the details, too. We'll have to wait for a more detailed story. We have some constables here to help out, and I've had the navy base set aside a hangar so we can secure the seaplane." (Jeez. I wuz impressed. All this, an' in only one hour an' change, too!) "Could you talk with someone here at the terminal, and get a waiting room for us to question the passengers and crew?" I nodded, an' fished in my jacket pocket. "Sir? You're prolly gonna need this." Handed over to him his badge and SIC ID card. He took 'em, and looked at 'em in th' light from onea th' towers. "Ah, thank you. Yes, you're quite right, I'd forgotten. It's been a while since I've had to use one of these..." An' with that, he tucks th' ID inside his jacket, and stuffs th' badge in a pocket. I headed off to scare up a room for us, an' when I comes back 'bout 5 minutes later, th' Inspector had th' binocs up. Looked out where he was lookin', an' I could see a huge bird comin' in. After a few minutes, I could see what it was: A big ol' Harland & Wolff Mark IX four-engine job, prolly converted on special order if it was carryin' folk. Made a real graceful turn over Vikingtown, an' settled in after a few minutes at th' base. Made a note: 0519, just 'bout 15 minutes before dawn. 26 July 1934, 0535 The H&W settled in smooth enough that I guess th' pilot musta waved off the moorin' boat. Could see it circlin' around, even with it still kinda dark, and turnin' away. Kinda wish I could hear the radio, t' see if Chief Loddis was in any kinda swearin' mood. 'course, when I takes a closer look-see at th' seaplane, I lets out a few curses myself. Stagg hears me, an' turns 'round, kinda puzzled. "Problem, Sergeant?" "I'd put 2-and-6 onnit, Sir. That's Art Lupino's plane." "Who's he?" "Big wheel 'round here. Owns a bank, some of th' bars, hotel, an' if ya believe, some other things he shouldn't be doin'. He's got pals, if ya knows whutImean." Stagg did. Face went a bit grim, an' he gives th' plane th' once over, as we seen th' door open an th' ramp get pulled up. "Right. Kid glove treatment it is, then." An' wit' that, we heads on up th' ramp. 26 July 1934, 0545 We hangs 'round near th' end of the ramp, an' waited for th' passengers an' crew t' come off. Pair of sweet little lady kitties, prolly secretaries, since they wuz carryin' typewriters wit' their luggage, a sleepy lookin' dog in a penguin suit, prolly a valet or somesuch, and a rangy lookin' fox in a wrinkled cap'n's uniform wit' a crushed cap. "Which one is he, Sergeant?" "Ain't in that group, Sir. Could still be on th' plane. Hope t'hell I'm right." Stagg looked over the group. "I have a feeling that won't be the answer, Sergeant, but let's find out..." We walks on over, flashes our buzzers, an' I let Stagg do th' talkin'. "Good morning. I'm Inspector Stagg, and this is Sergeant Brush. We're with the Spontoon Islands Constabulary. I'd like to speak to Mr. Lupino, if I could." Pilot stared at Stagg, an' then spat at the ground. "If you want to do that, Inspector, you'd better change into swim trunks. Mr. Lupino's somewhere in the Nimitz Sea. And he's probably dead." An' with that, the lady kitties burst inta tears. Gotta like a guy that direct, hanh?  26 July 1934, 0612 The pilot kinda stopped conversation when he spilled it, so Stagg told me to take the group inta the MAT, an' have their luggage given a good checkin' over. "I need to make a few telephone calls, Sergeant, so see if you can't get these people squared away in a waiting room. Get one of the constables to seal up the plane, and have the crashboats tow it over to the Navy hangar. Oh, do you know if Mr. Lupino has...well, had...a wife?" "Yep. That'd be Georgina. She's gotta suite up at th' Marleybone." "Large one?" "More'n both our salaries to live there, Sir." "Not a pleasant 'phone call to make at this hour, but it has to be done sooner or later. Let me know what you can get out of your charges, Sergeant." 26 July 1934, 0725 Stagg comes back a lil' later, an' passes onta me a large cuppa joe. "With the compliments of Chief Loddis, I'm told. I'm also told the Chief squared away the plane in a secure hangar, with a magnificent run of maledictions. What did the passengers and crew tell you?" Flipped open my notebook, an' gave Stagg th' rundown. Flight from Los Antelopes, left at 1600 from Santa Barbara Air Terminal. One crew, the pilot, name Tom de Reynard, age 38, pilot 9 years, 6 with Pan Nimitz, 3 for Lupino. Three passengers, Belle Costa, age 24, stenographer with a San Francisco agency, and Annette Felis, age 25, same. Hired on a temp basis by Lupino two weeks previously. Third passenger is Gordon Short, age 51, occupation valet, has been th' valet for Lupino 17 years. Flight pretty uneventful t' start. Lupino did some work in the plane's drawin' room from about 1700 to just before 2000, dictatin' to Costa and Felis. Short prepared dinner, gazpacho, ham salad, ice cream. Passengers an' crew had th' same meal, prepared from th' same containers, 'cept for de Reynard, who just had the gazpacho handed to him by Short. Dinner lasted 'bout an hour, and Lupino continued workin', knockin off at 2230. Passengers went t' their sep'rate cabins, Costa an' Felis in one, Lupino in th' master suite. Short did some ironin' an' other clothin' work, finally knockin' off just before o-dark. Few hours later, just past 0315, de Reynard hears a muffled "bang" an' th' plane shivers a bit. Standin' orders from Lupino is to bring th' plane down t' th' water, an' check things out. de Reynard lands the plane in a few minutes, an' idles the engines. (Kinda lucky th' water ain't doin th' Charleston.) Checks th' instruments, nothin' apparent. Heads t' th' back a' th' plane, passin' Short, Costa and Felis lookin' outta their cabins, sleepy like. Goes t' th' back, to the lav area, an' sees th' door t' th' outside ain't secured. Secures th' door, an' goes t' look fer Lupino to report. Lupino ain't in his suite. Aint in th' lav, neither. Not many places he could be hidin' on th' plane. de Reynard figures th' worst, an' just 'fore 0345, sends word to Spontoon Tower that there'd been an accident. Puts th' plane in th' air 'gain, an' flies on t' Spontoon, landin just after quarter past 5. Interviewed each of the folk seprate, all of 'em tell similar stories. Short looks real down, kitties are in tears, and de Reynard looks real angry and upset. "How'd it go with you, Sir?" Stagg gave me the run-down on his doin's. He rousted th' Chief Constable outta bed (bet he loved that -- not that he's doin' anythin' in bed, leastways wit' his mate), an' told him what was goin' on. Pickering goes to 'phone his boss, th' Interior Minister, an' sez he's gonna 'phone the Finance Minister and the Foreign Minister. Stagg rang up th' hotel, an' asked for Mrs. Lupino. Desk clerk says she ain't in, prolly out for early stroll, hadn't seen her, will gives her th' message. Interior Minister rings Stagg back, tells him t' keep things on th' Q.T. at least 'till 'bout 10 or so. That kinda surprised me. "Wunner what the I.M.'s all worried about." Stagg rubbed an antler. "You said Mr. Lupino owned a bank, didn't you? It wouldn't surprise me, then, if the Finance Minister was taking steps to make sure there isn't some sort of a run on the bank, if word gets out. I cannot say I see where the Foreign Minister comes into the picture, unless Lupino had similar investments elsewhere. Did he?" I thinks fer a minnit. "Yeah, think he does, actually. Prolly West Coast, maybe Tillamook, too. I've heard tell he's got pals high up in th' US, same as here." "It would be interesting to see the Dow Jones tape when word get out, then. Anything interesting in the luggage of passengers and crew?" "Nope. Rusty gave it a good goin' over, too. Nothin' like false bottoms or anythin'. All regular an' square." Stagg nodded. "Well, you can let the passengers go, then, but warn them not to leave the Islands. Have your notes typed up later as a statement, and we'll get them to sign it. When you come back, let's have a look at the plane." 26 July 1934, 1150 Found out where th' passengers an' the pilot were stayin', and made a note of it, 'case we hadda get 'em again, an' went t' th' pier on th' crashboat, which ferried us on over t' th' R.I.N.S. base over at Moon Island. Got one of the swabbies t' take us t' th' plane's hangar, with Stagg clumpin' behind him with his cane, an' me bringin' up th' rear wit' th' camera and th' Murder Box. Spent th' next few hours goin' t'ru th' plane. Sketch below sorta gives you an idea of th' layout of th' joint, with the cockpit up front, an' th' drawin' room, galley an' suites goin' toward th' back, leadin' to th' lav, luggage room, an' th' lobby 'n exit.  No surprise, we takes a real hard look at th' exit door, first off, 'cause that's where Lupino musta tried t' fly wit'out wings. Right off, we notices somethin' queer 'bout th' door frame. Wood's kinda gouged, right nears where th' tongue a' th' lock fits inta th' frame. Stagg told me t'take close-ups of me wit' th' camera, holdin' up a ruler next t'it, in shot. "Whatever caused these gouges, it happened quite recently. The wood is fresh, and hasn't been exposed long." Pointed up with th' tippa his cane at a few other dings. "Those other marks must be old; look how the wood is weathered there. We'll have to keep this in mind, until we know what it means." Shot a bunch more packs a' film going t'ru eacha th' rooms, an' th' cockpit, while Stagg got some prints from the doors and rooms. Also had the litter bagged an' sealed from each a' the rooms, after I finished shootin'. Couldn't believe how plush it was, in there in th' plane. Seats were leather, nice, thick carpetin' on the floors, china in the galley, an' all that. Stagg noticed, too. But he just sorta smiled an' shook his head, wistful-like. Mebbe he'd seen this sorta thing before... Didn't seem like much fer 'bout three hours work an' change, but we'd prolly have time to give th' photos a look-see after, so we hotpaws it back to HQ over at Meetin' Island. 26 July 1934, 1240 Anyhoo, we gets back t' HQ on onnea th' crashboats agin', an' headed up t' th' office that me 'n Stagg were sharin' in the Interior Min'stry Buildin'. Wasn't really much; we'd gotten hand-me-downs from some other department, looked like they was leftovers from the plantation days. Certain-like, th' walls hadn't gotten no paint job since them days. My desk rocked. Wish the chair did. If'n Stagg noticed anythin', he wasn't sayin'. Onea th' constables pokes his muzzle 'round the door. "The Chief's been lookin' fer ya, gents. Said he wanted ta see ya right when ya came back." So we headed on up a few flights a stairs t' th' holy of holies. Stagg kinda had a problem with the stairs, an' was sweatin' by the time we gets outside the Chief's office. Leastways, I'm thinkin' it wuz the stairs. 'course, th' Chief's office was spicnspan, and coulda matched Lupino's plane for the comforts. Th' Chief himself looked real nice in his (tailored) white uniform, polished Sam Browne belt, combed brush an' paws, an' he knew it, too. (You'd think his wife was responsible, but she ain't; he's got another little friend that takes care of him, if ya follas me.) He looks over at Stagg, in his stained shirt 'n suit, an' winced a bit, sorta like a head waiter tryin' ta figure out if he should seat a beachcomber. Stagg caught this, an' sorta looked down at his hooves. Chief clears his t'roat, and gives out wit' a sorta pompous smile, which wuz easy for him, since he'd had a lotta practice. "Ah, well, hrmmmm. I was hoping to swear you in this morning, Inspector, but I see you have hit the ground running. Capital, simply capital! Initiative is a fine thing in a detective. Ah, but we have to respect the formalities, hrmmm?" Stagg looked up, nodded quiet-like, an' shifted his cane over ta his other paw, an' let himself be sworn in. Said his piece real soft, 'specially 'bout swearin' ta uphold Spontoon's laws. Mebbe he was reminded of somethin, dunno. Just as the folderol was finishin' up, the In-ter-i-or Min'ster himself strolled in. We called him the Posterior Minister down in the squad room, back when yours truly wuz a uniform. Nervous, fussy little cat wit' a high, squeaky voice, blinkin' behind a pair o' pince-nez, always fiddlin' with the knot in his tie. He looked at Stagg's getup, an' winced, too, bein' none to subtle about it. You'd think we wuz runnin' a hotel. "Good afternoon, Pickering. Good afternoon, Inspector." (Ignored me, but what th' hell.) "I tried to find your badge, Inspector, but for some reason I couldn't...oh, ah, I see you have it already. Um, has someone arranged for your er, ah, gun?" Stagg spoke t'his hooves, without lookin' up. "I'd prefer if you didn't bother, Minister. I've never been fond of firearms, and I'm a poor shot, in any event. Bullets are only in my line of work when they're already in people." Chief looked puzzled, an' I could see the Min'ster flinch, which was kinda funny. Chief shrugged at the Min'ster, who cleared his throat nervously. "Oh, yes, um, the Finance Minister wanted me to thank you, Inspector, for the timely warning. He has a staff of examiners over at Mr. Lupino's bank, the Whalers' and Fishermans', and it looks like we have averted a run there with a timely closing for the day. I'm sorry to say I can't say the same for Tillamook. There must have been a leak there, because they had to call in the police to keep order at Mr. Lupino's bank there. The Foreign Minister is supposed to tell me more later this afternoon." Stagg looked up from his hooves, an' eyed th' Min'ster, which made him blink even more, an' fix his tie. "Minister, has the search and rescue operation started yet?" "Hmmm? Oh, ah, yes, yes, at first light this morning. The Navy sent out some patrol planes, and some of the fishing boats in the area with radios have been asked to keep an eye out. With any luck..." "I think we are beyond luck, by now, Minister," Stagg said, t'his hooves again. The Min'ster licked his lips, nervous-like, an' fiddled with his tie again. "Yes, well...I see your point." Changed the subject real quick. "Ah, heh, have you, um, seen your new office yet?" "Yes, Minister. I've always been fond of antiques." Heh, heh. Stagg said this with a real poker face, not even twitchin' when the Min'ster looked puzzled at the Chief, an' vice versa. "Gentlemen, if I may, it's a little past my lunchtime, and there are a number of things that need to be started for th' investigation of the Lupino matter. Please excuse me. Good afternoon." An' wit' dat, Stagg bowed, an' clumped softly outta th' Chief's office. Chief looks at me. "Queer old thing, isn't he?" I shrugs. Dunno 'bout th' Chief, but any guy who could crack wise to th' Chief an' th' Min'ster with that kinda poker face was my kinda guy. 26 July 1934, 1305 Hadda hang 'round th' Chief's office fer a few more, gettin' further instructions on how ta help Stagg, an' be a good little fox. Did everythin' but offer me a lollypop an' a pat on the head. Was glad to make my break, an' head back down to our office. Pickerin' is capable o' goin' on fer a few hours, once he gets warmed up. Stagg wuz there at his desk. Had a handkerchief spread out on top, an' I could see some grass clippins and some twigs in a lil' mound in th' middle. Got a tight feelin' inside, 'cause I realized Stagg prolly hadn't gotten no advance, an' payday wasn't for a few days, yet. He'd prolly gotten th' gard'ner at Shepherd's t' help him out. Stagg sees me, quickly finished up his lunch, an' balled up his handkerchief an' stuffed it inna pocket. I changs th' subject, real quick-like. "Onea th' constables stopped me on my way down here. Wouldja believe Georgina...well, meain' Mrs. Lupino, wuz here while we wuz gone?" Stagg looked up. "Oh? What for?" "Bailin' out her son. That punk you 'n me nabbed yesterday, that's Art Lupino's kid, Dan." "You didn't recognize him?" "Nope. He just came t' th' islands a few weeks ago. Got t'rown outta some high-class boardin' school in th' States, mommy been keepin' him mostly under guard. Mostly, mind. Heard a few things about his drinkin' an' chasin' women, though. Lucky th' Elele don't go in fer that kinda stuff, or they gots an editor who knows his libel laws; they're real strict 'round here. Bet th' old man was madder'n hell, too." "Did Mrs. Lupino ask about her husband?" "Desk sarge spilled the beans." Stagg looked a bit annoyed-like. "Hmm. That's unfortunate. I wanted to see her expression when she heard. Did your friend tell you about her reaction?" "Yup. She got all stiff, an' her jaw got real tight. Didn't say nothin', just marched her kid right out. Guess they went back t' th' Marleybone." Stagg thought for a minute. "That sounds like a profitable activity for us, as well, Sergeant. But you should have some lunch, first. Why don't you take twenty minutes or so, and meet me down at the dock? Since you're the one in the know about local affairs, I'd like you to do some paper-hunting..."  26 July 1934, 1340 Stagg didn't say anything fer most of th' way over t' Casino Island. He just sorta sat in th' boat, leanin' on his cane, and thinkin' with his eyes closed. Finally, he opens 'em, and turns t' me. "How much do you know, personally, about Mrs. Lupino?" "I ain't on her list of invites fer tea." Stagg don't laugh, but he sorta gives a quiet chuckle, unner his breath. "Nor, I suspect, will I be. But you said her son has only been here a few weeks. How about her?" "Well, she 'n Lupino came here 'bout four years ago. He wuz th' one that got th' suite at th' Marleybone. They used to go out together when they first came here, but th' scuttlebutt has it that they ain't sleepin' in th' same room nowdays. Sure don't see 'em together, not even eatin'." "Married long?" "'bout eighteen years or so. Dan's 'bout 17, I figures. Her Daddy was some big-shot in the Southern US, old family. One of these folks with more hist'ry than money. She was onea them steel magnolia debs. Ya know, pretty but tough. Spozed ta have been real active, outdoorsy, 'fore she married Art Lupino." "Certainly steely with that reaction. Does...well, did...Mr. Lupino have a social life here?" "None that folks were gonna talk 'bout out loud. Rumour has it he 'n that German dame, Ilsa, were tight, 'till recent, anyway." Stagg raised a 'brow. "Who?" "Oh, sorry. Ilsa Klensch. German dame, onea them speed demons. Races and tests seaplanes outta the islands, 'cause there's more space out here. Spozed to be for onea the big German aircraft companies." "Mr. Lupino seems to have had an eye for active ladies." "More'n that. I'll point Ilsa out t' ya, if we see her 'round." "Memorable?" "I'll say. Onea them wolves wit' pitch-black fur. Got real sharp golden eyes. Dresses to the nines, too, showin' just enough to raise interest, rather'n hell." Stagg raises a brow, real arch-like. "I'll commend your sharp observations to Mrs. Brush." "Eh, I'd prefer if ya didn't, Sir. Don't wanna sleep onna couch for a week..." next |
