"I'm still pretty, though. All the girls say so. Probably even you would. And no other part of me is busted. Everything else works as good or better than ever.

"I hope as far as you and I go, the past is water under the bridge. It is with me, even you sicking that ape on me.

"You ever ready to forgive me, I'm at my Armstrong Enterprises office downtown on Michigan avenue. Phone number's at the top of this letter.

"Oh, hell, Barbs. What I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry for everything and hope you'll forgive me. I'd sure like to see you again. But I've lost track of you since you went to London. You'll have to contact me. And believe me, there's still no girl in the world I'd rather have contact with. (Ha! Ha!) He signed it, "Love, Chet," and there was a postscript: "I never set the fires. Honest. And hope you don't blame me for your friend's crash in that Bee-Gee. He was a test pilot and took his chances. And we all know Bee-Gees are flying coffins."

She crumpled up the note and tossed it in a waste basket.

"Oh, no!," she exclaimed as Olafson sheepishly produced another letter. It did not have Chet's name or return address, so she opened it and read, "Dear Miss Markey, you don't know me, and I regret I can't, or won't, identify myself. I learned you are flying planes for the Air Force in different parts of the country, so I'm writing you at your airport in hopes you will some day get my letter.

"The car your friend Gail swerved away from to avoid hitting on Ravine Drive was driven by Chet Armstrong, Jr. Another girl and I were with him, and he had been drinking heavily.

"I write you this because he violated both of us after leaving the scene of the accident. We're both too scared of him to tell the police about any of it. I write you this hoping there is some way you can make him pay for what he did to us, and to your friend."

The letter was, as she expected, unsigned.

Barbara hardly had time to digest the information than Olafson said there was something else.

"About a year or more ago... when I learned from Red that you went off to London... A man with an awful-looking face began hanging around out here at night. Never saw him up close. Didn't want to. He was missing one ear and had only half a nose. Red said he saw him hanging around your airport at Mohave, before or after the fire. He couldn't remember which, from drinking so much. Do you know about such a man?"




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