“So, Ray, what does the FAA care if it’s pilot error or faulty valve installation? It’s horrible, and maybe there’ll be a lawsuit, but so what? It’s an accident. Shoddy work. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that this plane’s new,” Ray said. “No more than a year old. See this manifold? That ain’t new. Gotta be four, five years older than the plane. Maybe more.”
“Maybe there was something wrong with the new one.”
“Maybe there was. But nobody legit would have put this thing in as a replacement.”
“Are you saying that someone took out a new manifold and replaced it with one he
“I can’t say he knew for sure. But this manifold looks pretty bad. Anyone who knew enough to put it in would know that. Hard to think it wasn’t deliberate,” Ray Lockhardt said. “Which is just what the asshole at the FAA doesn’t want me to say.”
“Yeah. And you want to know what the asshole at the FAA doesn’t want
Back in Ray’s small, glass-walled office, Justin closed the door and waved for the airport manager to sit down.
“When the guy in the Piper landed, did he have to check in? Sign anything?”
“He just had to pay me eight bucks as a landing fee. And that’s what he did. He got a Dr Pepper from that machine there and gave me my eight bucks.”
“You talk to him at all?”
“Some. Enough to know he was dying of thirst. He downed the soda practically in one gulp. Same thing before he took off two days ago. That guy loved his Dr Pepper.”
“Anyone flying with him?”
“Yeah. But I didn’t really see him. He didn’t come through the terminal, just unloaded some stuff from the plane and went to a car.”
“Rental?”
“Don’t think so. Someone picked them both up.”
“Any idea who?”
Lockhardt shook his head. “I wasn’t really paying attention. I didn’t get a close-up look.”
“Get any other impressions of the Dr Pepper guy?”
“I can tell you one thing for sure. He was a
“How could you tell?”
“I’ve been doing this a long time. You get a feel.”
“Okay. You get any kind of a feel for Martin Heffernan?”
“Yeah. The guy’s a dick.”
“He told me he was here doing ramp checks. What does that mean?”
“It means bullshit work, basically. He goes around, looks to see if we’re parking the planes properly. Then he hassles whatever pilots he finds, checks to see if they got their P.O.H.-Pilot’s Operating Handbook-and their airworthiness certificate. Checks your weight and balance, your license. .” Ray looked off into the distance, then came back to focus on Justin. “You know, that makes this even weirder.”
“What does?”
“Well, when Heffernan went inside the Piper, he had to have seen the extra gas tank.”
“So?”
“So it’s illegal. I mean, again, I can’t say guaranteed that tank’s not kosher, but I’d pretty much bet on it.”
“Why?”
“Anything that throws off a plane’s weight and balance has to be approved.”
“By. .?”
“The FAA. Everything has to be recalculated if you add a huge tank like that. By a certified mechanic. Then you gotta get a form 337. That becomes a permanent record in the plane’s log and part of the airworthiness certificate. That tank just don’t look like it’s got a 337. And Heffernan couldn’t’ve missed it.”
“Hold on.” Justin’s voice got slightly louder now, the only outward sign that he was getting excited. “Do you mean Heffernan was inside the Piper
“Yeah. When he was doing his inspections.”
“And did he talk to the pilot?”
“Sure. I’m tellin’ you, he inspected the plane.”
“And checked his license?”
“Had to have.”
“That son of a bitch!” He saw the confused look on Ray’s face, decided there was no reason he shouldn’t explain. “The pilot? The one who was killed-he didn’t have any ID on him.”
“You think Heffernan stole it?”
“I thought so before. Now I’m certain of it.”
“Why?”
All Justin could do was shrug. It was the most intelligent answer he could come up with.
“So you don’t know who the guy is?”
“No, not yet. I was hoping you could tell me.”
“Nope. He never mentioned it.” Ray grabbed a tissue, blew his nose. “I think I’m coming down with something. The change in temperature, you know? One day it’s fifty, the next day it’s thirty.” He blew his nose again. Then said, “You wanna find out the pilot’s name?”
Justin had to bite his tongue. But all he said, quite slowly, was, “Yes, Ray, I do.”
“Well, I know how you can do that.”
“You do?”
“Sure. If he owned the plane I do.”
Now Ray led him back to the hangar. When they got close to the Piper, he pointed toward the plane’s tail. On it were black painted letters and numbers reading:
“That’s the tail number,” Ray explained. “All you gotta do is check it out with FAA records and it’ll tell you the name of the owner. Anyone can do it. It’s a public record.”
“Ray, you are a very good man.”
Pleased, Ray Lockhardt said, “So can I ask you a question? Couldn’t you just take the guy’s fingerprints to find out who he is? That’s what they always do on
“Yes, that is the procedure. But it only works if his fingerprints are on file somewhere. In this case it doesn’t matter because there were no fingerprints.”
“In the plane?”
“Anywhere.”
“Well, I know he’s dead and all, but he still has fingers, doesn’t he?”
“Trust me, Ray. There are no fingerprints to be had.”
There was a brief silence, then Ray Lockhardt’s mouth spread into a big smile. “I wouldn’t be so sure, if I were you.”
Before Justin could move, Ray was out the door of the hangar. When he returned, he was carrying a small plastic garbage can.
“It’s from behind the counter in the terminal. Place has been pretty empty the last couple of days. Since the bomb. And Pepe, the cleaning guy, he’s been out with the flu.”
“You trying to tell me something?” Justin asked.
“Yeah. I’m tryin’ to tell you all you gotta do is find the Dr Pepper can in here. I mean, if you want some fingerprints.”
Justin was almost out the door, carrying the garbage pail, when he heard Ray call out, “Does this mean we’re
