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“Is there any compelling reason, Detective Lassiter, why you can’t leave, right now, to pursue this investigation wherever it takes you?”
“I’d have to pack,” Olivia said, practically.
“There might not be time for that,” Wohl said. “Perhaps you could pick up whatever you need when you get there?”
“Yes, sir,” Detective Lassiter said.
“In that case, I suggest that you and Sergeant Payne leave for the airport immediately,” Inspector Wohl said. “Leave your car with the Airport unit. I’m sure Lieutenant Washington will arrange to have someone pick it up.”
“Indeed, I will,” Lieutenant Washington said. “Bon chasse, Sergeant Payne.”
“We want to go to Daphne, Alabama, not Florida,” Sergeant Payne said to the lady at the Delta ticket counter in the Philadelphia International Airport.
“According to the computer, Daphne, Alabama, is served by both Mobile, Alabama, and Pensacola, Florida,” the ticket agent said. “I can get you-first class only-on a flight connecting at eleven-twenty-five to Pensacola in Atlanta leaving in thirty-five minutes. If you want to go to Mobile, you’ll have to wait until five-forty-five in Atlanta.”
Matt handed her his American Express card.
“I never leave home without it,” Matt said to the ticket agent.
“Oh, God!” Olivia said.
“Oh, shit, the guns!” Matt said.
The ticket agent looked at him with great interest.
“We’re police officers,” Matt said, which caused the ticket agent to look at him with even greater interest.
Olivia produced her badge and photo identification, which caused the ticket agent to look at her with great interest.
“You’ll have to pack any firearms, unloaded, in your luggage, ” the ticket agent said.
“We don’t have any luggage,” Matt said.
The supervisory ticket agent was consulted.
Two metal lock-boxes were produced. Olivia’s Glock and Matt’s Colt were produced, which caused the people in line to look at them with great interest. The guns were then unloaded to the satisfaction of the supervisory ticket agent, the cartridges placed in small Ziploc plastic bags, and the bags, in padding, placed in one of the lock-boxes. Then the pistols were put in Ziploc bags and, with packing, placed in the other lock-box. Matt filled out an orange Unloaded Firearm Declaration card. It was placed inside with the pistols, then the boxes locked and placed on the baggage belt.
“You’re not the first,” the supervisory ticket agent said, handing Matt the keys and the claim checks to the boxes. “Have a nice flight.”
“Can I get you a cup of coffee? Or something else?” the stewardess inquired of the cute young couple in seats 2A and 2B.
“No champagne?” Sergeant Payne replied. “I thought you got champagne in first class?”
“Oh, God!” Olivia said.
“We’re celebrating,” Matt said to the stewardess.
“Just married, maybe?” the stewardess asked.
Matt grabbed Olivia’s hand with his left hand, and held the index finger of his right over his lips.
“Don’t ask,” he said.
“I’ll get your champagne,” the stewardess said, smiling warmly.
“You’re insane,” Olivia said when the stewardess had gone. “You’re absolutely bonkers.”
But she was smiling, and she did not attempt to free her hand.
