Fletch, Too

“Sex?”

“He wasn’t an outlaw. As soon as everybody in the town thought he was, and the real baddies began to talk as if he were one of their own, Walter dressed in as close an approximation of a suit and tie as he and his family possessed, and went down to the local baddy hangout, a really horrible roadhouse about eight miles out of town, and started a riot I expect they’re still talking about. He jeered at everybody.”

“How old was he then?”

“Would you believe fifteen?”

“How could you not tell me about him?”

“Energetic,” his mother said. “Bright, handsome, and energetic. Saw things his own way, and never asked for agreement. I mean, it’s not everybody who is expelled from school and the local roadhouse. I thought him simply marvelous.”

“Is that why you’ve never sought agreement from me?”

Josie looked at her son from under lowered lids. “Anyway, we were married literally over my father’s dead body. I’ve told you your grandfather died of a heart attack during my senior year of high school.”

“Yes. Must put that fact in my medical folder, if I live long enough.”

“Walter had a flying job. Flying ranchers around, mining executives, emergency medical equipment, out-of- state crop-dusting, in season. Sometimes, frankly, I wasn’t absolutely sure where he was. Weather’s always a problem in a job like that.” Josie poured coffee for them both. “I got pregnant immediately. I thought that was the right thing to do, that was the way life was, that we both wanted it. It never occurred to me you were supposed to think about such things. We were buying a house trailer. I thought we were perfectly happy.”

“What do you guess he thought?”

Josie sighed. “Everyone was telling this boy, Walter, that he was married and about to be a father and ought to give up flying and riding motorcycles. That he ought to give up being Walter. At the time, I thought such talk was natural, too. I’ve wondered since how he heard it.”

“Come on, get to the good part: me.”

“You were born ten days ahead of expectations. Walter had promised he would be with me when you were born. In fact, he was across the state. My mother telephoned him the good news. He said he would take off and fly home right away. There being a major storm in his path, he was advised against flying. He took off. He never arrived.”

“He crashed?”

“Seven years later we were able to assume him dead. After the snows melted in the spring, a search was made for his plane. It was never found.”

“He died in childbirth.”

“An enigmatic statement, for which I apologize. I always thought it rather graceful. What I mean by it is, What was in his mind when he climbed into that airplane, when he took off, while he flew alone across the state of Montana in the dark, presumptively to his wife and son, me and you? Do you understand? What was in his mind at that point has always been more important to me, in a way, than whether he lived or died.”

“Maybe I understand. A little.”

“Who was Walter? Who is he?”

“I need my clothes.”

Josie looked at him as if awaking suddenly. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know.”

“When will you know?”

Fletch said, “It’s a long drive to the airport.”

“May I kiss the bride, too?”

Fletch decided where he wanted to go only as he walked down the airport corridor with the muddy envelope under his arm and saw Barbara and Alston waiting outside the gate.

“Where have you been?” Barbara asked.

“Where did you go?” Fletch asked.

“Where did you go?”

“I didn’t know where you went.”

Alston rolled up his eyes.

“Have Cindy and her friend gone?” Fletch asked.

Barbara said, “They’ve gone.”

“Where’s our luggage?” Fletch asked.

Barbara said, “It’s gone.”

“I checked it in this morning,” Alston said. “So you wouldn’t have to be bothered with it at this point.”

“It’s gone?”

“It’s gone.”

“We need to get it back.”

“Oh, no,” Alston said. “It’s gone.”

“The plane’s about to go,” Barbara said.

“It hasn’t gone,” Fletch said.

Alston looked at his watch.

“We’re not going?” Barbara asked.

“We’re going.” Fletch said to Alston, “You didn’t tell her?”

“I’m not going to.”

“We’re not going to Colorado.”

“Our luggage is,” Barbara said.

“Must get it back,” Fletch said.

Alston hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Skis.”

“Come on,” Fletch said. “Let’s go.”

They were rushing up the corridor.

“We’re not going?” Barbara asked.

“I’ve got the tickets,” Alston said. “Turn them in. I’ve got the baggage tickets. Get the luggage.”

Barbara said, “We’re not going.”

“We are going,” said Fletch. “Alston, we need to get the luggage to British Air at the International Terminal.”

“The plane’s changed?” Barbara asked.

“We’re changing planes.”

“For Colorado?”

“London.”

“London, Colorado?”

“Kenya.”

“London, Kenya?”

“Nairobi, Kenya.”

“Nairobi, Kenya!”

“Africa.”

“Africa!”

“East Africa.”

Barbara mouthed the words: “East Africa …”

“Didn’t you say you’d follow me to the ends of the earth?”

“Never! You can’t even find a pizza parlor in Malibu!”