The broker agreed: "You should get your profits working for you as fast as possible."

Knowland left them to decide on an investment strategy for her and he went to work at his own airport.

That evening, Barbara had dinner at Buck and Edna's, and only then realized that she and her broker had not talked about insurance for her airport. Well, she would attend to that later. Right now there was hardly time to prepare for another air show, and to fly to Jackie Cochran's ranch in Indio the next day.

Returning to the airport to make sure the paperwork was in order so she could take the day off to meet Jackie Cochran and her other fellow women pilots, Barbara worked in her office until almost midnight. In back of the office, she could hear Russ Oberman and Moose Mondrowski talking, mostly about baseball, and the more beer they drank, the louder they talked about Babe Ruth and other ballplayers. Ever since her party, they had been popping a lot of beer cans together.

Finishing her work, Barbara turned off the lights in her office. Before going to her car and driving back to her room at Ma Phelps's, she thought she would look in on Becky. The sorrel mare the Gendas had loaned her had been standing asleep in her stall, but woke up and looked her way at hearing her enter the hangar.

Barbara stroked the horse's cheek and promised she would take her for a long ride in the morning, before flying to Indio. While talking softly in the dark hangar, Barbara was startled by the sound of footsteps as someone entered. At first, she thought it was Moose, finally finished drinking with her business partner. But when she turned and saw who was there, she screamed.

Chet Armstrong, in a custom-tailored Italian white suit, rushed at her. He clamped a hand over her mouth and yanked her out of the horse's stall. She fell against some bales of hay between the stall and the Piper Cub, and he threw himself on her.

"You didn't really think I wouldn't find you," he taunted, pinning her down. "I saw a story about you in the paper. You shouldn't have become famous, Barbs, if you expected to hide from me."

She couldn't speak or scream because one of his hands remained over her mouth. The other ripped at her clothes.

Kicking and squirming, she was unable to free herself from his strong, angry hand, and his legs which held her as tightly.

"I've always gotten what I've wanted," he told her, kissing her breasts after tearing off her bra. "Cars, clothes, money.




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