The Death of Lorenzo Jones by Brad Latham Read Free Book Online

driving him nuts.
    Lockwood continued to rummage through the wreckage. It looked like parts of the wings had been wooden, but they were gone
     except for the supporting girders. They were bent back from the heat of the fire. The fuselage was sooty and black.
    He climbed up on the supporting girder of the left wing and peered into what was left of the cockpit. The glass was completely
     gone except for little tooth-like edges. Lockwood promised himself not to fly in the near future. Not much to look at, just
     an Esso map, probably used to get bearings in the air, that lay singed on the floor. He found a lunch box, top open, jammed
     against the floor by a piece of metal. He reached down and wrenched it out, dirtying his hands and shirt cuffs. Inside was
     a half-eaten box of crackers, partly burned, an unopened Beech-Nut gum package, a shaving brush, soap, some blades, and a
     razor. Just a little travel kit filled with snacks. Yeah.
    But there was a big empty space in the kit. Hook tried to remember what was usually put there. He saw a spring clip, used
     to hold something so it wouldn’t drop out once the lid was opened. What was missing?
    Insurance investigators didn’t carry lunch pails to work, but he had been on picnics. Suddenly, he realized—the thermos. Sure,
     a cylindrical thermos, held in place by that clip.
    Well, it was probably somewhere else in the wreckage. He looked about. He found an unopened knife, the kind Boy Scouts use,
     with a corkscrew, a scaling blade, and other assorted doodads. He opened it. No blood on the blades. Well, what had he expected?
    By throwing his whole weight into it, he was able to get the leather seat out and onto the ground. There was dried blood on
     it, and lots more—dark reddish brown—under it. The place where the head had hit when the plane smashed into the ground had
     the brightest stains of all. Ugly.
    Ugly, but nothing was really out of the ordinary. Hmmm. Still no thermos.
    He continued to search the wreckage. He found a small socket wrench—could that be anything? Also some French post cards, the
     kind he had bought in France after the World War. The grossest sexual poses imaginable. Totally illegal, but most guys had
     a couple lying around.
    Where was that damned thermos? Maybe the geezer has a bag of stuff stowed away that they took out of the plane. Lockwood gave
     up. He hated getting so sooty. He checked to see if his cuff links were still there and then climbed down off the wing.
    Back outside, he asked the old guy, “Did they take anything out of the wreck? Maybe a separate box for small articles?”
    “Naw. That’s exactly the way she come in. They ain’t done with it; I knew you’d be back. You’re FAA, too, right?”
    “Did someone take a thermos out?” Lockwood asked, ignoring the question.
    “Not a damned thing. They never do, sonny. You should know that. Crash happened here a year ago. Same thing. Dragged it back,
     left it for six months, finally took it to the junker.”
    “Thanks.” Lockwood was getting nowhere. Did the missing thermos mean anything?
    In his hotel lobby Lockwood tipped Tom, who was always hanging around to wipe the car. Then he went upstairs to make his own
     exterior more presentable.
    Robin seemed more radiant than ever when he picked her up. He was all spiffed up himself in a new, white Arrow shirt and his
     dark blue pin-striped suit. They both told each other how swell each other looked, and she stepped into his Cord.
    It was a bit cool, but under a short fox stole she wore a low-cut black dress that made her look even slimmer and more svelte.
     Her blond hair was up, not down on her shoulders, held in place by a rhinestone-studded barrette, simple but elegant. Her
     soft features and her high cheekbones were lightly accented with rouge. The kind of dame you would be proud to take anywhere.
    The car looked all right, if not downright great. The kid had done a good job. The 12-cylinder beauty seemed almost to glow