AFTER THEY PICKED UP HER THINGS FROM THE BEACH HOUSE, THEY headed to LAX. They were within fifteen minutes of arriving at the airport when Boyer finally realized they were being followed by two men in a black Ford.
“This place is a lot more claustrophobic than it was in the thirties,” Harlow said. As a driver leaned on his horn beside them,
she added, “A lot more noisy too. You know, in my day, we
had sounds, like we do at the cabin. In Los Angeles today, all you hear is noise. I miss sounds. Don’t you?” She looked over at Boyer. “Was I rattling? I do that a lot. Usually do it when I’m either
nervous or excited. Guess I’m excited now, because we sure don’t have anything to be nervous about. And believe me, I know when to be nervous. I—”
She stopped, took a deep breath, and smiled. “You need something?”
“Take my cell phone,” he said. “And yes, you were rattling. Now, do you remember how I showed you how to find the numbers in my directory?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, I want you to scan through that list until you find a Royce Pearson.”
As Harlow went through the directory page by page, Boyer made two more turns. In both cases, the Ford mimicked his moves. He sighed. “We have a tail.”
“Someone is following us?” Harlow asked as she glanced over her shoulder.
“The shiny black car.”
“I see it.”
“Have you found Pearson’s number?”
“No—wait, here it is.”
“Good. Hit the Send key, and then hand the phone to me.”
The number rang three times before an easygoing male voice answered. “Tell, you old bushwhacker, how you doing?”
“Got a problem right now, and I thought I might cash in on that favor you owe me.”
“You name it, buddy,” came the quick reply.
“I need to get back to my place in Arkansas without taking a commercial flight. I guess I’ve written something that has upset someone because a couple of guys are on my tail. Do you have a plane free that can ferry me halfway across the country?”
“No jets,” Pearson answered, his voice showing a bit of his West Texas roots, “but I do have the restored DC-3 on hand. It has the beefed-up engines and could even land on the grass strip you’ve got behind your place. Probably get you there in seven hours or so.”
“That’ll do,” Boyer responded. “I’ll pay whatever it takes.”
“Are you kidding? You’re the reason this company exists. If you hadn’t turned those folks in the movie and television business on to my charter service, I’d be driving a UPS truck in Plainview. How soon can you be here?”
“About thirty minutes. We don’t want to spend any time on the ground either. We need to get in and get off.”
“We?”
“Oh yeah, a woman . . . Jean . . . a . . . a Kaytlin Carpenter, good friend of mine, is going back to the Ozarks with me.”
“That sounds interesting.”
“Even more interesting than you can guess.”
“Sure she won’t mind riding in such an old plane?”
“I think she’ll be right at home in the antique bird. See you soon.”
As he snapped the cell shut, he looked over at Harlow and grinned.
“I take it there has been a change in plans?”
“Yeah,” he answered. “Those guys could easily track us on any commercial flight in the country. Most likely could get tickets on the same plane we’ll take. So we’ll just go with a private plane and see what happens. By the time they get to another charter service and get in the air, we’ll be hundreds of miles away from LA, and they won’t have a clue in which direction either.”
“You sure the plane is safe?” a suddenly nervous Harlow asked. “I mean, I don’t really like to fly anyway, didn’t like it seventy years ago, and I’m not too crazy about these jet things either.”
“Actually, the plane we’ll be taking was put into service about the time you started your long nap.”
The shocked blonde shook her head. “It’s not one of those open jobs, is it?”
“No,” Boyer laughed. “It would have been used for commercial traffic back when you ruled Hollywood. It even has heating and air-conditioning and a bathroom. It’ll be like sitting in your living room.”