Flying Too Close to the Sun by George Jehn (most inspirational books TXT) 📗

don’t think the captain would have wanted to take off in crummy weather without it. But resetting a circuit breaker got it working and we departed.”

“How long did that take?”

“I dunno. Maybe a couple of minutes..?”

“You certain about the time?”

“Yeah, only a few minutes, at the most.”

Daly wrote something in his notebook and asked, “Is there a portable phone in the house? Do you use a cellphone? A computer?”

“There’s a portable and I also have an old laptop computer upstairs.”

“May I see the portable?”

Erik took the white Panasonic phone from its cradle on the end table and handed it to Daly, who passed it to Morganthaler. He took out a pen and copied down the numbers and times of the received and dialed calls shown as he scrolled though the last twenty-five numbers.

“May I also have your cell number and the name of your cellphone and internet provider?”

“I don’t have a cellphone or access to the internet.” Looking meekly at his father he added, “My Dad doesn’t want me tying up the phone line with the computer.”

“May we take your laptop? It will be returned to you in a few days.”

“Sure.” Erik went back upstairs and handed them to Morganthaler.

“We’d also like to look inside your car?”

“Okay. It’s the blue Chevy parked at the curb. It’s, well, kind of dirty because I haven’t have a chance to wash it.” He went into the kitchen and returned with the keys.

“Thank you, Mr. Preis,” Daly stood and again extended his hand. Based on his experience and internal lie detector he liked the kid. But he also knew a good actor might beat him. “Here’s my card. We’ll probably have some additional questions for you later...oh, and one more thing. On the 727 is it possible to access the forward cargo compartment from the cockpit?”

A truly surprised Erik replied. “Why, no. That’s impossible. But why would anyone—?”

“Sorry to have awakened you.”

Erik hesitated, thinking he should appear curious. “What’s this about? Did something happen? Did I do something wrong?”

“All I’m at liberty to say is a substantial amount of money being transported on your flight is missing.”

“How much?”

“I can’t divulge that.”

“I hope you get it back.”

“We will.”

Once the door closed Joe began his grilling. “What are you mixed up in?” he loudly demanded, sweating profusely, a hangover sweat.

“Nothing,” Erik replied, holding up his hand trying to keep the putrid breath away.

“You are lying.”

“So you say...”

At that moment the doorbell rang. Daly returned Erik’s keys, thanked him and left.

When the door closed Ursula Preis rushed downstairs clad in a light fabric pink nightgown, with hair pulled back and pinned in a bun. “Come to bed, Josef,” she said gesturing toward the bedroom. “Erik didn’t know why they came here.”

“He knows.”

“For God’s sake, he was sound asleep on the—”

“I don’t care what he thinks. If I had money, I’d get the hell away from you,” Erik yelled over his shoulder at Joe while heading to his room.

Once ensconced in their bedroom and speaking in German, Ursula pleaded, “Why are you so hard on Erik? You should treat him with respect.”

“Don’t give me any respect crap. You know he’s been very different since he was born, doesn’t resemble me and is too Americanized. His values stink and because of you I don’t even know if he’s my son. Now, he’s involved in something that brought the police. What will the neighbors think?”

“It’s late. The neighbors won’t even know,” adding with a wave of her hand. “He has a good job. Why would he be mixed up with anything dishonest? And as I’ve told you many times he is our son.”

“And, I do not want to discuss this any more,” Joe shouted.

Lying in bad, after overhearing his parents’ conversation, thoughts from jubilant to terrifying raced through Erik’s brain. The joy and fear caused a sweat with a distinctive odor. He would indulge himself with a long shower in the morning. His thoughts turned to Juni, who probably got the money, but didn’t want to take a chance on calling. Good thing the phone didn’t ring while the cops were there. He pictured what his share looked like, mentally stacking the money on the spotless floor. Perhaps now he could seriously consider asking Carol to marry him? She was the only person he’d ever shared that indefinable bond with.

.     .     .

Walking through the mist to their unmarked vehicle, the cops concluded Preis seemed to give honest answers. “It was a good idea to question the pilots first, especially the kid. The young ones are usually a lot easier to trip up,” Morganthaler offered.

“My gut says he’s not the kind to get caught up in this stuff,” Daly responded in a soft voice normally reserved for kids. “He’s got a good job and was sound asleep, not the signs of someone involved in a serious crime. But there was lots of friction between him and the old man.”

“Like millions of others,” Morganthaler interjected.

“I guess..?”

The two cops meandered in silence back to the FBI blue Ford Victoria, deep in thought, knowing the hours immediately following the crime were crucial. As a Port Authority cop, Morganthaler was somewhat accustomed to working in the middle of the night, usually on drug busts at one of the New York or Jersey airports the PA police oversaw. Actually, he would do most anything to get out of the dingy Port Authority police station at LaGuardia, a faceless, grimy building where you froze in winter and cooked in summer. No doubt he’d bring the streetwise smarts to this investigation, while in his opinion Daly existed in the la-la land of the Feds, a desk jockey, paper pusher who never got into the down and dirty of an assignment. But this case was intriguing, even working under Daly, the lead investigator with proprietary jurisdiction. Referred to by other cops as the big G’s or suits, the FBI people were rarely awakened and required to dress in the compulsory jacket and tie and work all night.