“Either Scott or Marge. I don’t even know if they figured it out yet.”

“Sounds like you have your hands full, Dad. But look at it this way. You’re not pushing paper.”

“Yeah, be careful what you wish for.”

Cindy placed a Pyrex pan in the dishwasher. “Koby was offered a promotion.”

“That’s wonderful!” Decker told her. “When did this happen?”

“Couple of weeks ago.”

“And you’re first telling me now?”

“He doesn’t know if he wants it. It’s more money but more time on the job, more paperwork, and it takes him off the floor and primary patient care, which is what he really likes. He shouldn’t be killing himself for a few extra dollars. But he’s obsessed with saving money for the construction.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll help you with the remodeling.”

“I know and I really appreciate it. But even if we can do most of the framing ourselves, there are still skills that we’re not going to attempt like electrical and plumbing. Last thing I want is a broken sewer line or a fried husband or father.”

“I agree.”

“Whatever we decide, it’s going to take money. Mom’s offered to lend us some cash, but Koby has his reservations. That’s why he’s considering the promotion or options that will make him more money.”

“Money’s important, but he should be happy.”

“That’s what I tell him.” Cindy paused. “Alan offered to help out.”

“Uh…fine.”

Cindy gave her father a smile. “Did I detect a bit of hesitation on your part?”

“Not at all. Your stepfather keeps your mom happy and that makes everything easier.” Decker gave a tepid smile. “I just never knew he was handy.”

“He and Mom have been really into home improvement. I think they own stock in Lowe’s or something.”

“What are they doing?”

“Installing new appliances-new dishwasher, refrigerator, and microwave. Alan also built a bookcase and a table.”

“How’d his handiwork come out?”

“Not too bad, actually.”

“Good. We can use as much help as possible. Do you have an architect?”

“We have a neighbor who’s helping us out at a reduced fee. AIA certified. Nice woman who does good work. I lucked out: a neighbor architect, a handy father and husband, a somewhat handy stepfather…count my blessings.”

“We’ll have good old barn raising.”

“Thanks, Daddy, I really appreciate it.” Cindy offered him a luminous smile. “And I’d like to add that I’m very proud of you.”

“Me?”

“You’re talking to me like a colleague instead of a daughter. To wit, we’ve been together for almost an hour and you have yet to give me a word of advice except to tell me that I shouldn’t treat any police case as routine, and that’s just what my partner says, so I can’t even claim that was an overprotective daddism.”

Decker started to say something, but nodded instead.

“Is it hard for you not to give me advice?” Cindy asked. “Tell me the truth.”

“Well, put it this way.” Decker thought a moment. “My tongue is nearly severed from biting it so hard.”

A S A SATELLITE airport, Burbank usually had manageable crowds, which translated into shorter check-in and security lines, and officials who were friendlier and, in general, less bureaucratic. But even a small airport had post-9/11 concerns, and the head of security kept Marge Dunn parked on the wrong side of the metal detectors since she was lacking proper authorization. Because there wasn’t any hope of getting clearance from WestAir, Marge resorted to plan B, working her charm on the staff behind the check-in counter.

There was no scheduled WestAir flight in or out for the next two hours and the sole person manning the counter appeared lonely and bored. Marge put him in his late twenties, sporting a round face and a pinched mouth. She smoothed her navy skirt, rotating the waistband until the zipper sat against her left side. Why the contraption on this particular skirt moved to center when she walked was one of those unexplained mysteries of life. She sauntered up to the WestAir desk and flashed the man her cheeriest smile. He responded in kind and displayed his own white teeth.

“Can I help you?”

“I think you can. I’m from Acona Insurance Corporation, which is a subsidiary of Livalli Corp. We’re working on a specific claim in regard to flight 1324 and we need verification for the benefactor that the victim was on said flight-”

“I’m sorry,” the clerk said. “All questions regarding flight 1324 need to go through the WestAir task force. I can give you the task-force phone number, if you’d like.”

Marge leaned over and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Can I be frank, Mr…”

“Baine.”

“Mr. Baine, I’m Marge Dunn.” She held out her hand and a reluctant Mr. Baine shook it. “Your task force has a problem returning telephone calls. I don’t think they’re very anxious to settle their claims.” She watched Baine’s reaction. When he didn’t immediately defend the company, she depressed her brain’s ad-lib button. “We suspect the company is having severe cash-flow problems. We understand that they’ve even withheld some payrolls checks-”

“Only once,” Baine interrupted.

“I’m not here to knock the management, Mr. Baine, I just need information.” She brought her face closer to his. “I’m representing one of your own flight attendants-Roseanne Dresden. I just need to verify that she was on the flight and then I can give her poor husband a little solace as well as money.”

The clerk harrumphed.

“Do I detect a note of skepticism?” Marge inquired.

A shrug. “I didn’t know either of them very well.”

“Yet you have your opinions.”

“She was well liked. He wasn’t.”

Marge nodded. “I’ll hear anything you want to tell me.”

“My opinions won’t help your situation. Why do you need verification for Roseanne specifically?”

“All of the other bodies have been recovered except hers.”

Baine was taken aback. “I thought they found it a couple of weeks ago.”

“False alarm.”

“Really.” Baine pursed his little lips. “That’s too bad.”

“It’s heartbreaking, actually. Her parents are waiting for news, but we’ve got nothing to tell them.” Marge paused for effect. “This is the situation, Mr. Baine. Roseanne wasn’t ticketed for the flight. We were told that she hopped one of the jumper seats, and was on her way to work in San Jose. But we haven’t found anything that puts her on the plane other than the fact that no one has heard from her since the crash.”

“And that’s not enough?”

“Not in this century. If she boarded the flight, she had to pass through security. None of the security agents specifically remember seeing her, but that was a long time ago.” A little lie, but it was harmless. “All I want to know is who worked the gate for flight 1324. Maybe someone remembers seeing Roseanne board the flight.”

Baine was silent, weighing something in his brain. He picked up a phone and turned his back as he spoke into the receiver. A moment later he hung up and pointed to the exit. “Directly across the street, there’s a coffee shop. She’s waiting for you there. You can’t miss her…she’s in uniform.”

“Thank you. And she has a name?”

“She does, but it’s up to her if she wants to give it to you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” As Marge turned to leave, he said, “It was actually two times.”

She faced him. “Pardon?”

He crooked a finger and she leaned over. Baine whispered, “WestAir held back a month of paychecks-for all their employees. We had to accept the conditions or else the company claimed it would file for Chapter Eleven. Even with that, there still may be some cutbacks.”

“Wow, that’s a rotten deal.”

“What can I do? I need this job.”

“At least the cuts affected everyone,” Marge said.

“So they say,” Baine answered. “Last I heard, the CEO still owned his yacht.”