Part 12 (2/2)
”That's an overly romanticized way of putting it, I guess.” Mara stopped working for a second and rested her arm on top of the mixer. ”If something is broken, I fix it. It's what I do. I'm not sure there is more to it than that.”
”Oh, I suspect there's great deal more to it than that,” Ping said, smiling. ”Tell me, do you have an apt.i.tude for mathematics?”
”I never struggled with it in school, but it didn't interest me particularly. Why?”
”What about music? Do you play an instrument? Any talent there?”
”No. Again I never had an interest. The odd thing is I learned to read music very quickly. I had a friend who played the clarinet, and she taught me in a couple minutes.” Mara pushed herself up from leaning on the mixer. ”I can still read it and hear the tune in my head. Weird, huh? Again, why do you ask? I feel like I'm being a.s.sessed.”
”I was trying to get to know you better. Mechanical abilities are not that far removed from mathematical or musical abilities. Although I have to admit, your talents are more practical than the typical mathematician or musician, not to say those don't have their practical applications occasionally.”
Mara raised an eyebrow at him. ”Anyway, you need a new coil. I can order it for you and let you know when it can be installed.”
”What do you-”
A crash of gla.s.s reverberated throughout the empty shop. Mara and Ping ran to the front. Sam stood red faced on a ladder. The top of one of the gla.s.s display cases was shattered.
”Oh, man, I am sorry,” he said. ”One of the construction guys left a hammer up here on the ledge. I climbed up to get it and dropped it.”
”Are you all right?” Ping asked.
”Yes, but-”
”Don't worry about it. We can get a new plate of gla.s.s cut for the case. No big deal,” he said.
”He is a one-man wrecking crew, isn't he?” Mara asked, smiling.
”He's just at that age where his arms and legs have more length than coordination,” Ping said.
”h.e.l.lo, I'm standing right here,” Sam said, climbing down the ladder.
Pus.h.i.+ng open the gla.s.s front door with his forearms, Bruce stepped into the bakery holding up black-smeared hands in front of a green T-s.h.i.+rt bearing a bicycle and the caption Sit on Your b.u.t.t and Do Something.
”Wow. You have really ripped this place apart.” He smiled at Ping, then turned to Mara. ”A couple cops are next door asking for you.”
CHAPTER 20.
THE PHONE RANG as Mara squeezed past the two men in suits milling around the shop. Once she stood behind the counter, she faced them, held up a finger and picked up the black handset. The older of the two investigators, the one with the military haircut and the dead eyes, looked put out. He stared at Mara, furrowing his brow. His lips were pressed together, and his square jaw jutted. She confirmed to Mrs. Dalton that her mimeograph and projector would be ready by Friday noon and hung up.
”Ms. Lantern, I'm Ethan Suter with the FBI, and this is Detective Daniel Bohannon with the Portland Police Department.” He tilted his head toward the burly sandy-headed man next to him. ”We are working with the NTSB to investigate the accident on Flight 559 last week.”
”Okay. What can I do for you?” she said.
”We're interviewing some of the pa.s.sengers to see if we can determine the cause of the accident. We'd like to ask you a few questions about the flight and what you remember.”
”I'm not sure how much help I would be but ask away.”
”Do you remember seeing anything unusual as the plane departed and took off?”
”Unusual how?”
”Anyone acting strangely? Any events occur that were out of the ordinary? Anything odd at all?”
”Not that I recall. I settled in for a nap as soon as I sat down. I didn't see anything leading up to the crash.”
”You're saying you slept through the whole thing?”
”Pretty much.”
”Ms. Lantern, from what we understand talking to other pa.s.sengers, there was a period of pandemonium in the cabin prior to the crash. You don't recall any of that?”
”I don't. I took a nap, and then I woke up in the hospital with a head injury. If I woke up before that, I don't remember it.”
”So you don't remember seeing any lights in the cabin? People panicking?” Suter asked. Mara shook her head. ”Did you see a red-headed boy running in the aisle or anything like that?”
”Absolutely not.”
The bell above the front door jangled, and Sam stepped in, holding Mara's coffee she had left at Ping's place. ”I thought you might want this,” he said, walking over to the counter.
The two investigators glared at him.
He set the coffee down and backed away. ”Sorry for the interruption.”
”What's your name, young man?” Suter asked.
He hesitated for a second and then said, ”Sam.”
”What's your last name, Sam?”
”Lantern.”
Mara's heart skipped a beat.
”You're her brother?”
”Yes.”
”Were you on the flight to San Francisco with Mara last week?”
Mara held her breath.
”No, I was not on the flight to San Francisco,” Sam said.
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