He sucked air in and huffed, “Are you accusing me of sending those notes myself? That’s patently absurd.”
“It is absurd, and I also don’t give a damn, as long as your checks don’t bounce…but I wouldn’t be surprised, once the dust settles, and this Mexico City flight’s behind you, if that sweet little aviatrix of yours doesn’t sit you down for a spanking.”
His chin lifted and the cold eyes peered down at me with unblinking contempt. “Mister, I don’t like your attitude.”
“You didn’t hire me for my attitude. You hired me for my low moral character. I wormed my way into your wife’s confidence and betrayed her…just like you wanted me to.”
“After Amelia takes off tomorrow,” he said, stalking off, glaring, “I won’t be needing your services any longer.”
“I don’t think you ever needed them, really…but thanks for the work. Times are hard.”
The rest of that day, Putnam said not a word to me, and final preparations went on without a hitch, with the slight exception of a guest appearance by Myrtle Mantz, who dropped by to scream at her husband.
Wearing a dark green dress with jagged streaks that might have been lightning bolts, she cornered Mantz in his office during Amy’s final stint in the Link trainer. The glass of his glassed-in office rattled as she yelled at him, and pounded his desk.
I was lounging in a folding chair, reading the boxing results in the sports section of the
Nonetheless, I’m the old-fashioned chivalrous type who doesn’t like to see guys belt gals even when they deserve it, and went in there and got between them with outspread hands like a referee.
“Save it for the lawyers, you two,” I said.
Myrtle curled her pretty mouth into a sneer, and snarled, “Who appointed you sheriff, big boy?”
Normally, a good-looking redhead calling me “big boy” would have perked me up; but I had little interest in even good-looking women who shot target practice in the bedroom.
“Get her the hell outta here!” Mantz was yelling. “Crazy greedy dame!”
I walked her out of his office—she was yelling back at him, but not flailing around or anything; I think she was glad to get out of there before Mantz actually struck her. On her way out, she did hurl a few epithets at Amy, who Putnam was helping down out of her little red trainer.
“Adultery’s a sin, you snooty bitch!” she shrieked. “I hope you crash! I hope you drown in the ocean!”
Though Putnam was getting an eye-and earful, Amy merely turned her back to Myrtle, as I kept walking the estranged Mrs. Mantz toward the door.
Ushering her outside the hangar to where the flashy Dusenberg was parked, I found she’d calmed down, some. “No-good lousy husband of mine canceled my charge accounts,” she explained.
“Steer clear of that guy,” I said. “You don’t want to lose any of your pretty teeth.”
Myrtle touched my cheek with a cool hand and, laying on the Southwestern accent, said, “You are a sweet one, aren’t you? Wish I’d run into you a long time ago.”
She ran into me in the bedroom at the Mantz bungalow; she just didn’t know it.
And when she’d driven off, I went back into Mantz’s office and said, “Hey, Paul, if you want to come out of that divorce with your shirt and maybe a pair of socks or two, I’d suggest not belting that broad.”
He didn’t say anything, but I had to wonder if the reason Myrtle resorted to a firearm was because he’d been smacking her around.
With the flight due to begin around ten that night, nobody came in the next day till around one in the afternoon, including the mechanics.
Shortly after I got to the United Air Services hangar, I stuck my head into Mantz’s office and asked if he had a moment, and he waved me in. He was in a tan shirt and black tie, seated behind his desk, going over the pile of charts and maps, looking a little frazzled.
I took the chair opposite him and asked, “Are you aware that Amelia’s talking seriously about makin’ her next flight a little around-the-world number?”
Mantz sighed, tossing a chart onto the stack. “Maybe she ought to survive this flight first…. Yeah, I know. She and Gippy have been after me to help ’em prepare—and work my connections at Lockheed to get ’em a good price on a twin-engine plane.”
“Will you?”
“Probably. I mean, if she’s got it in her head, then she’s going to do it, and if she’s going to do it, I want to see her tackle it as close to the right way as she’s capable of.”
“How capable is she?”
Mantz waggled a finger. “Never forget that Amelia Earhart won her reputation first, then set about earning the right to havin’ it…. She has zero experience in twin-engine piloting technique.”
“Can she learn it?”
“You’ve seen how impatient she can be, where training’s concerned.”
“She’s worked hard in that trainer of yours.”
“Hey, she’s a good pilot, but a woman’s pilot. These dames all jockey the throttles—”
