Ghost Days, page 1
Ghost Days
Geonn Cannon
Supposed Crimes LLC
Matthews, North Carolina
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2024 Geonn Cannon
Published in the United States
ISBN: 978-1-952150-98-2
Chapter One
1985
RED KITE, SASKATCHEWAN
The only colors in sight were the sickly brown of the prairie and the unsettling yellow of the sky. The two colors blurred together to obscure the flat horizon with an ochre-colored soup that upset the stomach. On top of being ugly, the day was the kind of hot that forced people outside to sit in its ugliness since it was impossible to just ignore it.
Erika Garza decided if she had to be outside anyway, she could at least get a little work done. Her plane needed an oil change and she didn’t have any flights on the schedule, so now was as good a time as any. She flew a Cessna 402 with a white belly and a bright red stripe running along its center length. She’d bought it as a wreck, its life cut short by a bad fuel gauge and a rough landing in a field that had almost taken off a wing. She had nearly gone broke buying it even in that state, and the rest of her savings had gone into its resurrection. It was junk, it was almost twenty years old, and almost everything on it needed to be patched, repaired, or replaced before she even thought about taking it up in the air. So many of its vital parts had been replaced or swapped out that she wasn’t sure the company would recognize it as one of their own. Its insides might have looked odd, but it got her where she needed to go and it was her pride and joy. She wanted to make sure its second life was long and fruitful.
Garza had the engine compartment open, her arms inside up to the elbows, when she heard the growl of an engine. She peeked around the cover and squinted down the road, perfectly framed by the Piper’s propellers, and watched as a plume of dust became a car. She’d been working in just her undershirt, so she stepped off the stool and retrieved the shirt she’d draped over a strut on the wing. By the time she had it on and buttoned, suspenders pulled back up onto her shoulders, the car had turned off the main road and was fast approaching the small building that she proudly called an airport.
She wiped the grease her hands as she crossed the tarmac toward the now-idle vehicle. The driver’s door opened and a scarecrow unfolded himself from behind the wheel. Tall, narrow everywhere but the shoulders, his clothes looking like they were filled with the bare minimum of a person, he took off his hat and tossed it onto the seat behind him. He looked toward the airport, pivoted his head toward Garza as she walked toward him, and made the decision to meet her halfway.
“Good afternoon, sir,” the man shouted as he approached. “Might I have a moment of your time?”
Garza was glad he was still too far away to see her expression. “Ma’am, actually.” It felt slightly wrong to be annoyed. She was dressed in men’s clothing and, though she had a slight build, her hair was cut very short on the sides and shaggy on top. From a distance it would’ve been easy to make the mistake. Still, it rankled. She waited until she was a little closer before she continued. “Erika Garza. Owner, operator, pilot of Red Kite Aviation. How can I help you?”
He raised his eyebrows and leaned back slightly from her extended hand. She’d seen enough people who were put off or weirdly angry about discovering she was a woman that she could tell he was simply surprised. He finally extended his hand, offering an awkward but sincere smile as he gave her hand a weak squeeze and a simple up-down pump.
“Hello. My name is Saul P. Oakhill.” His voice was clipped, every word enunciated perfectly, as if he was reciting them off a card hidden in his hand. “I am a banker, charged by a client to negotiate a difficult business deal in Calgary. It will require several weeks of travel to and from British Columbia and, rather than deal with commercial flights, I would--”
As he spoke, the passenger door of his car opened.
Where Saul had unfolded like a stick insect, the woman emerged like she had been poured out into the sun to expand to her full form. The wind immediately picked up her white dress and flapped it around her legs like a surrender. Erika was distracted by the long length of leg from ankle to knee, the passenger’s hand coming down to prevent more than just a brief flash of thigh. The woman wore a man’s hat pulled low over her eyes. It looked similar to the one Saul had removed when he got out of the car, and Erika questioned whether it was the same one. Her arms were bare, a smattering of freckles there darkened from too much time spent in the sun.
The passenger gave a panoramic look around the property and then, hands on her hips, walked over to join them. She wore driving goggles and a scarf that was tucked into the V of her dress so the tails wouldn’t join her dress in waving in the wind.
Saul followed Garza’s eyeline and saw the passenger approaching. His jaw tightened. “I thought you were staying in the car.”
“It’s hot as Hades in the blasted car,” the woman said, her words colored by an unplaceable accent. She looked Garza up and down. “You’re a woman.”
“Not as much as you are,” Garza said before she could stop the words.
The woman’s expression didn’t change, but her lips quirked slightly in a way that could have been a smile or a frown.
“Erika Garza,” Saul said. “Christine Parrish.”
“Pleasure,” Parrish said.
Garza dipped her chin. “Sure,” she said.
Saul cleared his throat. “So Miss Garza. Will you be able to handle that?”
“Hm? Oh.” For a moment she’d misunderstood the question in a way that made her cheeks burn. It took her a second to realign her thoughts to remember what he’d said. “Yeah, I can handle that. Two trips per week?”
“Tuesday morning until Thursday, late afternoon,” Saul confirmed. “You will deliver me to Calgary and return to bring me back. You will be given ample warning if the schedule should change for any reason.”
Garza said, “Sure thing.”
Her eyes were still on Parrish. She was looking at the plane, hopefully admiring it, possibly trying to gauge if it was capable of what they were asking it to do. There were tiny diamonds of sweat on her throat, making her shine. Saul had obviously noticed her distraction but seemed unwilling to speak up about it. Garza decided to acknowledge the staring in what she hoped would also work to gather information about the odd couple.
“Why don’t we work out the details in the office? I’ve got a couple of fans, and your wife can get something cold to drink.”
Parrish looked away from the plane so sharply it looked like she’d been slapped. “I’m not his wife,” she said in the time it took Saul to get out “We’re--” He pressed his lips together and swallowed the rest of what he’d been about to say.
“Your acquaintance.” Garza gestured toward the office.
Saul led the way, followed by Garza. She glanced back to see Parrish had remained where she was standing, eyes tracking Garza, face still completely unreadable, then fell into line behind them. Garza faced forward again to see Saul, with his rigid and unwavering gait, had gained a lead. She moved a little faster to catch up, certain that if she turned to look, she would see Parrish moving along in their wake in no hurry at all. In the few seconds they’d spent together, Garza had figured out that Christine Parrish was a woman who moved through the world at her own speed.
Despite two fans - one high and one low - and all the windows being open, the office was still sweltering. Saul took one of the seats behind the desk while Garza shuffled past the piles of papers and the filing cabinet to get to her own chair.
Parrish entered after they had both sat down, and she took off the hat so she could fan her face with it. Curly chin-length hair fell free, perfectly parted to frame her face. At first glance she looked blonde, but Garza realized on second glance that it was actually as white as her dress. Not gray, not silver, not even platinum blonde, but white. It was a striking look, and it almost made her forget Saul was also in the room. She had to force her eyes down onto the papers, which she began shuffling to find the standard long-term hire contract.
“Okay, um, most of this is going to be boilerplate, but we can go over it if you like. Pricewise and whatnot.”
“Price won’t be an issue.”
“Must be nice.”
Parrish wandered to the far side of the room. She lifted off the driving goggles so she could see the maps on the wall more clearly. Garza wished she was closer and turned the other way so she could get a look at her eyes. She could ask her to have a seat next to Saul, but she didn’t want to draw any more attention to her fascination than she already had.
“And if there are any fees you’d like me to explain...”
“I’m well-traveled, Miss Garza. I assure you, I know how this works.”
She was glad she had the pitch down so well that she could recite it without thinking. The words fell out of her mouth while her brain was focused on Parrish, who had leaned forward to examine a map of the province. Her left hand was still using the hat to waft air toward her face, but she was shining with sweat regardless.
“The flight will be just over two hours.”
“That will be fine,” Saul said. “Would you prefer full payment upfront?”
“We’ll do a
His face changed so that it almost looked like a smile. “I can agree with that logic, Miss Garza. I believe we have an agreement.”
“Just sign here,” she said, passing a pen to him.
Parrish moved away from the maps. The woman didn’t seem to walk when she moved; she drifted. Her feet barely made any sound on the floor as she walked, stepping quietly until she was directly behind Saul’s chair. She watched him sign, then looked up at Garza.
“Do you allow passengers?”
“Uh.”
Parrish nodded to the window. “Seats six, by my counting. Surely it wouldn’t hurt if I tagged along to see him off and then you brought me back.”
Garza said, “Uh. The, um, weight of three passengers requires more fuel than if it’s just two, so it would affect the price. I’m not sure it would be worth it to just tag along to say goodbye.”
“Mm, I suppose not.” She smoothed her hand over the top of Saul’s head, stroking him like he was a pet cat. He shifted his eyes as if trying to look behind himself without turning his head. “Worth asking, though.”
“I guess so.” Garza cleared her throat and stood up. “So. Uh, first flight will be next Tuesday at nine-thirty in the morning. Calgary is an hour behind, so that gets you there by lunchtime. Return flight on Thursday, I’ll be at the airport at five-thirty pm, local time, to bring you home.”
Saul stood and extended his hand across the desk. “I look forward to flying with you, Miss Garza. Tuesday at nine-thirty.”
She shook his hand. “I’ll see you then.”
Parrish replaced the fedora on her head as she stepped out of his way. Saul led the way out of the office, Parrish falling into step behind him. It should have looked subservient, but to Garza it seemed more like he was escorting her back out into the sun. Garza followed them as far as the door, stopping at the threshold to watch them walk to their car. Parrish had moved to Saul’s side and slipped her arm around his. The sun was hitting her at just the right angle for the shape of her body to be highlighted against her dress. White dress. White hair.
Saul and his “acquaintance” got into the car. Garza waited until the engine came to life and they had started rolling before she went back into the office. She still needed to finish working on the engine, but first she needed the coldest drink she could scrounge up. She was glad she’d come up with the fuel excuse to keep the woman from riding along for the drop-offs and pickups.
She didn’t trust herself to spend two hours alone in the plane with that woman.
Chapter Two
Tuesday
The first trip to Calgary was as uneventful as Garza hoped and feared. Two hours in the plane sitting next to a man who might as well have been a mannequin. He greeted her in the office and followed her to the plane, a silent shadow. He paid close attention when she gave her safety briefing despite claiming to be well-traveled. Then he folded his hands in his lap and faced forward through takeoff. She never saw him lean toward the windows to appreciate the view, never saw him white-knuckle his briefcase to indicate anxiety, and he never once shifted to a more comfortable position.
When they landed, he thanked her, gave her a firm handshake, and confirmed he would be back Thursday at five-thirty. Then he turned and walked away.
Garza fueled up the plane, got some lunch, and turned around for the trip home. Flying back alone was only marginally different than flying with Saul. The main change was that the silence was much less awkward.
When she landed, her only thoughts were of taking a bath to wash off the flight and maybe taking a nap until the day started cooling off. She was so distracted by the fantasy that she almost missed the card stuck between the office door and the frame. She pulled it free, looked around as if whoever left it was lurking around, and read the message scrawled on the front.
MEET ME AT THE REACH, 7:30PM - CP
She frowned, thumped the card with her finger, and slipped it into the pocket of her trousers. CP was obviously Christine Parrish. The Reach was a bar in Red Kite, the closest town to the airport and probably where the Oakhills - rather, Mr. Oakhill and his companion - lived. It was just under two miles away and Garza only had her motorcycle. She had no intention of riding that far after she had spent four hours aboard a plane. She tossed the card onto her desk as she passed through her office, already forgotten.
Beyond the office, she’d converted the rest of the building into her living space. A large living room, smallish bathroom, cramped bedroom, and a kitchen that barely allowed space for both an icebox and a stove. It was plenty for her, and she kept it tidy to give the impression of having more room than she actually had.
The flight had eaten up her whole morning and the first chunk of the afternoon, prompting her brain to consider the entire day finished. She did take a bath and then a nap, but woke up with only enough motivation to work on her books. She added Saul’s flight to her logs and spent the next few hours working on her budget for the coming month.
She got so lost in the numbers that she didn’t realize how late it had gotten until a pair of headlights swept across the front of the building. The airport was far enough away from anything else that no one could have pulled in by accident, so she lifted her head to see if maybe it was a last-minute customer.
It was too dark to tell much about the car, even if she could’ve identified one kind from another, but somehow, even before she got out of the car, Garza knew it would be Parrish.
Tonight she wore a scoop-neck white shirt that clung to her curves, tight enough to look painted on tucked into a pair of equally snug blue jeans. Garza put down her pen and leaned back in her chair, tracking the visitor through the window.
When she knocked, Garza said, “C’min.”
Parrish entered. She kept the door open, hand on the knob, hip cocked. She raised an eyebrow.
“You didn’t show up.”
Garza looked at the clock to see it was almost eight. She shrugged. “I didn’t feel like drinking. Or riding my bike home drunk, after dark. Sorry. I probably should’ve called.”
“I don’t like being stood up.” Parrish closed the door and walked to the chair Saul had used on the first visit. She placed her hands on the backrest like she planned to give it a shoulder massage. “Did you deliver my lovely man safe and sound?”
Garza nodded, waggling the pen between two fingers just to be doing something besides just sitting there under this woman’s gaze. “The trip went as planned, mm-hmm.” She watched Parrish very carefully, trying to figure out what the woman’s game was. “What’s that accent? I can’t quite place it.”
“Australia,” Parrish said, smiling widely, as if just saying the country’s name gave her inordinate pride. “Good ear.”
She stepped around the chair and sat down, crossing her legs. Something about the way she sat - slightly slumped, hands lazily draped over the arms, one leg crossed over the opposite knee - made her look like an idle king entertaining a jester. Parrish stared at her so hard that, after just a few seconds, Garza started to squirm uncomfortably.
“You’re probably wondering about me and Saul. Our relationship.”
“I don’t pry into my clients’ personal lives,” Garza said.
Parrish smiled. “A lot of people wonder about it. I’ve been called Mrs. Oakhill more times than I care to count. But I have no interest in anything official, and he doesn’t care that we aren’t married. It keeps things manageable. It keeps things interesting. You’ve met him. Does he strike you as an exciting person to spend your life with? Or did you want to jump out of the damn plane after an hour alone with him?”
Garza twisted her mouth to avoid answering. “So you don’t love him.”
“I didn’t say that. I have very deep feelings for him. I desperately wanted him for a very long time before we finally got together. And... hm.” She laughed at a memory, her eyes focused on a spot somewhere above Garza’s head. “He wanted me just as badly when we first got together. All that pent-up energy and desire... It was electric. For a while. But then things calmed down. He was the dog who caught the car and didn’t have the first idea what to do afterward.
