The Four Corners of the Sky_ A Novel - Michael Malone [82]
***
At the same time, down the corridor, Annie, holding over her shoulder the cloth carrier in which Malpy was squirming, phoned Pilgrim’s Rest and spoke to Clark, who was now in bed reading a biography of Thomas Edison.
Annie skipped over the details of her emergency near crash-landing and told him only that she’d arrived safely in St. Louis. The trip had been routine. No problem.
Clark let out a breath. “God knows what you mean by ‘routine,’ but okay, don’t feed Malpy seafood. Remember he’s allergic. Don’t give him coffee; keeps him awake. I don’t know where Sam is. She’s been running off every few minutes to talk on her cell phone ever since I got back from the hospital…I’m not sure what she’s up to. Maybe she’s in love…”
“It’s overrated.”
Clark said that only the young could be so sure. “By the way, Brad showed up in a jet at Destin’s, right when you were taxiing out.”
Annie had heard that news. “D. K. radioed me about it. I gotta say, it was nice of Brad to set up parking for me here on the Hopper lot.”
“He’s only nice for a reason.”
She noted that everyone was only nice for a reason.
“Brad came to Emerald to propose to you,” Clark warned. “He had an engagement ring in a box with a ribbon. I think Sam’s all for it. For a Lesbian, she’s obsessed with marriage.”
“Brad had a ring? You’re kidding?!” But she sounded a little uncertain as she added, “What do I need Brad’s ring for? I’ve already got a real zillion-carat emerald from Jack Peregrine, right?”
Clark made himself chuckle. “Yep, you’ve got a zillion-carat emerald.” He was wondering if she was thinking of going back to Brad. “Hey, maybe Brad’s got the same ring he gave you the first time. Didn’t you give it back to him when you caught him with Harmony?”
“Melody.”
Clark said, “He’s headed for St. Louis now.”
“No way.”
Suddenly Sam burst into Clark’s room, flipping on the light, stuffing her cell phone into her bathrobe pocket. “Is that Annie?”
Clark put the phone to his chest. “No, it’s Jill calling from Belize; she wants her tropical fish back. Of course, it’s Annie. She’s at the airport—”
Annie interrupted. “I’ve got to go. Headed for the Admirals Club. Just hug her and tell her I’m okay.”
But Sam pulled the receiver away from Clark. “Annie, all those Peregrine emeralds and rubies are real. Really real. Your dad must have dug them up. They’re on your hat.”
Clark took the phone away. “Ignore Sam,” he advised.
“What’s she talking about, emeralds and rubies are real?”
“Just that she loves her brother. Don’t get yourself mixed up in something illegal. Good night, sweetheart. Call us. We love you.”
“You too. Okay, off to find the Dying Dad.”
Sam and Clark talked for a while about how it was a relief that Annie had landed safely in St. Louis, despite the storm. Clark hoped, but doubted, that Jack would be at the Admirals Club waiting for her. “Maybe now we can all get some sleep,” he sighed.
Sam was biting her lip so nervously that Clark asked her what her problem was. “Nothing,” she said evasively and hurried out of his room.
***
At the airport, Annie took a shuttle from the hangar to the main terminal where, glancing up at the dome, she was struck by what she saw. Floating in space above her hung the St. Louis airport’s prize possession, Charles Lindbergh’s 1934 Ryan Monocoupe D-145 with its sleek black-striped body. There was its registration number: NX211 in bold black letters on its orange under-wing, the ID number Lindbergh had been allowed to transfer to this plane from his earlier craft,