Still in sight of the screened plane, he explained all he knew about Mark and the aircraft’s history. He also identified Mark’s corpse when it was finally removed from the Cessna. The questions asked seemed to be coming from a long way away, as if via an old transatlantic telephone line, and he answered in the same
fashion.
Images of Mark flooded Josh’s mind, alternating
from the pilot’s dead body to their last conversation before he took off. He thought about the check he’d given to Mark still in his back pocket. The concept of profiting from the unpaid debt because his friend was dead
plagued him. Mark had no wife and Josh wondered
whom he should contact. He felt obligated to inform someone and repay the money he owed. The only person he could think of was Mark’s sister.
Eventually, the police told him to go home and expect an investigation from the Federal Aviation Authority and National Transport Safety Board. He didn’t do as he was told.
Josh drove back to Laguna and got to Bob’s house
just after five in the evening. Bob welcomed Josh in typical Bob weekend-wear—baggy shorts, a big T- shirt
and Teva sandals.
“Hey, Josh, I was expecting you earlier. C’mon in man.” Bob ushered Josh into his house. “Nancy said you called this morning—what’s up?”
“Mark Keegan’s dead,” Josh said.
“Dead?” Nancy asked, walking into the hall.
“Jesus. How?” Bob asked.
“He crashed our plane this morning, flying to Stockton.
All I know is he radioed the tower with engine
problems and he attempted an emergency landing. The last thing they heard was Mark screaming all the way into the ground.”
Nancy put a hand to her mouth. She walked up to
him and put a comforting hand on his arm. “Oh, Josh, that’s awful.”
“I heard about a plane going down on the radio and thought nothing of it,” Bob said.
“What did Kate say?” Nancy said.
“I haven’t told her. I was coming from the airport to here when I heard the radio report and I just knew it was Mark. Can I call her?”
“Of course you can, man. You don’t need to ask.”
Bob retrieved the cordless telephone from the living room and handed it to Josh.
“Can I get you something to drink, Josh?” Nancy
asked.
“Anything cold would be good,” he replied, and dialed his home number.
“I’ll give you a minute.” Bob walked into the kitchen, where Nancy had gone moments earlier.
Kate picked up the telephone on the fourth ring and Josh told her what had happened to Mark Keegan. The accident shocked and upset her. She was also upset he had not come home first. He apologized and promised to be home soon. He hung up and went into the
kitchen.
“How did she take it?” Nancy handed him the
lemonade.
“About as well as you’d expect. She’s not too pleased I’m here when I should be at home.” Josh took a sip from the lemonade. It was bitter, but good.
“She’s not wrong, is she?” Nancy said.
“You make good lemonade, Nancy.”
“What are you doing here, Josh?” Bob asked.
“Weren’t you meant to be flying with Mark?”
“Yeah, I was, but I wanted to see you about your colleague, James Mitchell.”
“What about him?”
“Do you mind if we walk and talk? I just don’t
seem to be able to stay still.” What Josh said was true, but he also didn’t want Nancy hearing what he had to say.
“Yeah, sure,” Bob said.
Josh took untidy gulps from his lemonade and
placed the empty glass on the sink drainer. “Thanks for the lemonade, Nancy.”
“Any time, Josh.” Nancy smiled, but her concern for her husband’s friend showed through.
They walked deeper into the housing development.
To Josh, the street was eerily quiet. Sidewalks and front yards were deserted, but signs of recent life did exist.
Freshly washed and polished cars sat in driveways. Discarded baseball bats and soccer balls lay strewn across
freshly mowed lawns. It was like a neutron bomb had gone off and he and Bob were the only ones left alive.
His nuclear test theory was swiftly dispelled when a couple of kids came running out of a nearby house. A year or two older than Abby, they resumed kicking a soccer ball in the street.
Josh walked with his head down, staring at the
oatmeal-colored concrete sidewalk. Bob walked alongside him looking forward with his hands behind his
back. Neither of them had spoken for several minutes.
Bob stopped walking. “Josh, what did you want to
know about James Mitchell?”
Josh took two more steps, stopped, turned and
lifted his head to look at Bob. “What do you know about him?”
Bob shrugged. “Nothing, really. He’s an insurance agent with Pinnacle and is in California scaring up business. He’s on the road with nothing to do most of the time. I’ve been there and I felt sorry for him, so I invited him to your party. What’s wrong, did he piss
somebody off?”
“Yeah, me,” Josh said.
“Shit, I’m sorry. Bad idea—”
Josh cut Bob off mid-sentence. “He drove me off the road. And you brought him to my home.”
Bob’s expression changed in increments as he absorbed Josh’s words. It was as though layers of surprise were torn off his face one by one until the pure expression of shock came through. Bob walked forward and
took hold of Josh’s wrist like he was a disobedient child.
“What are you saying? That I knew this guy was the one on the bridge?” Bob demanded.
“I’m asking you what you know about him. That’s
all.”
“That’s all I know,” Bob said.
“Let’s keep walking. I don’t want the neighbors listening,”
Josh said.
They walked again.
“What makes you think he’s the one?” Bob asked.
“When you were leaving last night you and he were talking and he made the thumbs-down sign to you.”
“That’s it? That’s what you’ve based this guy’s guilt on? Oh, come on Josh, that’s a little thin, don’t you think?”
“He made exactly the same gesture. No two people
would do it that way.”
Bob frowned. “Josh, you’re not convincing me, pal.
