Duxford Airfield (the band) Pt. 09

"Bob has a way for the dramatic, is all. The guy's seventy-five years old now, leave him be, Andrea" I said waving my hand dismissively.

"How long have you known him, Tim?" my wife asked.

"Forty-some, years, knew him back in the late seventies, give or take" I shrugged.

Andrea silently rolled her eyes and shook her head, this was a clear indication that the subject of Big Bob Slater was now closed.

The ladies continued their conversation regarding the shipment of memoirs, belonging to the Countess and Mary Wickersham, while I sat just enjoying the delicious food and atmosphere of the truckstop. I'd been in a lot of truckstops over the course of my life, but always with a work-related schedule. It was different now, spending time in a truckstop on my own time with two beautiful women.

After several minutes I found myself staring at the water-stained wallpaper, which I had noticed several days before, when accompanied by Andrea and Helen, here within this very restaurant. For some reason, I just couldn't take my eyes off the wallpaper, and all of its seemingly hidden details. The more I studied the wallpaper, the more detail I seemed to discover within the artwork...

...After lunch, Andrea and I walked Helen back to the hotel. I then took out the bicycle for a ride, just meandering through the streets of Odessa with no clear destination in mind. I was again, reluctant to sell back the recumbent bicycle to the Epps. The bicycle really was a beautiful machine and would go well with the rest of the recumbents we had back at the ranch.

" - A deal's a deal," I said quietly to myself as I rode along and just reveled in the glorious sunshine. I had already promised to sell back the bike to the Epps, and that's exactly what I would do, like it or not...

I continued to ride along the sidewalk and found myself thinking about seeing Bob Slater again, after all these years. Bob was a man who'd never really done anything illegal, per se, but he'd never minded skating along the edge of the law either; if it had served his purpose.

...There'd once been rumors that he'd somehow been involved with a "hot fuel" scam. The scam had involved the resale of tens of thousands of gallons of diesel fuel over the years that had been intentionally heated enough to expand within its bulk storage tanks, thus expanding the fuel and creating a higher profit margin. - The fuel hadn't been stolen, just heated to the point of expansion, which was illegal.

...Apparently, someone had pointed the exhaust pipe of a large diesel generator at the base of the main bulk storage tank, the generator had been set up at a roadside diner and used to power the restaurant and service station, which Bob was part owner in. The large generator had run 24 / 7 and heated the fuel nicely for resale.

When asked, authorities had been told that the fuel was heated to keep it from jelling in cold weather...

...Another incident, where Bob's name had come up, had allegedly involved selling truckloads of gravel that had been drenched in water for days on end, via garden sprinklers. The tons of water, in each load of gravel, had increased the profit margin substantially. - Each load of gravel had been sold by the ton and sometimes dozens upon dozens of water-soaked loads were sold each day.

The explanation to State inspectors for the water-drenched gravel was that the sprinklers had been placed there in preparation for a "wash rock" set-up...

...There had also been the anonymously owned poker machines distributed throughout Anchorage during the eighties, along with a multitude of other shenanigans that an overworked Anchorage police department simply hadn't had the time nor the resources to deal with. Bob had never been directly accused of anything himself, that I knew of, yet somehow his name had never seemed very far away from the minds of authorities or local news stations...

I took a left turn with the bicycle and kept pedaling.

During the nineteen-eighties, when I had worked with Bob and begun hearing the rumors of all these harmless pranks, it had seemed a bit comical. Some of Bob's scams really had been quite original and ingenious, to be honest...

So what, if he's selling hot fuel? Who cares if he's weighing down gravel with water? - it's a State contract, so it's not going to hurt anyone. God knows our taxes go up every year, so what's it going to hurt if someone screws the government for a change? So what if he grows pot, or if he's got illegal gaming machines in Alaska? People play at their own risk anyway, whether it's here or in Vegas, what's the difference?

...I grabbed another gear on the recumbent and started pushing myself harder as I rode the bicycle down a long straightaway. I was sweating now and beginning to feel the endorphins kicking in.

I had never been involved in any of Bob's schemes but I had watched them from afar and always chuckled slightly. Maybe I was simply older now or maybe I had grown up some, but I really didn't see anything comical about an individual scamming anyone now, including the government. I felt that we already paid far too much in taxes, but ripping off the government only made it harder for the people that were honest...

It really wouldn't surprise me if Bob had some type of scam in the works, even now, at seventy-five years of age. He had a dream job apparently, hauling medical equipment, but he probably still had his fingers in some type of minor criminal endeavor. I blew a huff of air and shook my head at the thought. He'd probably end up losing that good job for a lousy few hundred dollars worth of ill-gotten gains.

Nevertheless, part of me would always like the man, known to the world, as Big Bob Slater

I wiped the sweat from my forehead and continued pedaling at a brisk pace. As always, the bicycle was beginning to work its magic now and my body and mind were slowly starting to clear of fatigue.

...Reaching up, I took down my water bottle and took a good pull of the cold water.

I was excited about getting home soon with Andrea, and Helen. I couldn't wait to get there and put all the Danny Wickersham nonsense behind us, once and for all...

I kept pedaling as I held the water bottle.

I now passed the grocery store where I had met Cinnamon Epps and her children, several days prior. As I glanced over at the quaint little market something suddenly seemed to click inside my mind, something that Big Bob had said, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was, just yet. Bob had mentioned something about "Johnnie's Girl" and somehow that seemed to start ringing bells inside my mind.

...The band, Duxford Airfield, and the phrase, Johnnie's Girl, were somehow connected. I had heard, or maybe read something long ago, that had piqued my interest, and it had involved the band Duxford Airfield and the phrase, Johnnie's Girl, but what was it?...

"Maybe Andrea or Helen would know," I said aloud as I shrugged my shoulder in frustration.

...I suddenly realized that I was now riding directly behind our own hotel's rear side, I'd come full circle without realizing it. It was now late afternoon so I decided to call it a day with the bicycle. Andrea had mentioned that she also wanted to get in a ride today so I decided to turn the recumbent over to her now.

A few minutes later I rolled the machine back into our hotel room to find Andrea and Helen waiting on me.

"Didn't you get my text?" Andrea asked, before even saying hello to me.

"Uh yeah, I guess I did, but I didn't hear it," I said looking at my phone now.

"C'mon, baby, put the bicycle away now, we have to jump in the car and go!" Andrea said as both ladies stood up and reached for their windbreakers.

"Where are we going?" I asked as I leaned the bicycle against the wall.

"Downtown to a music store, hurry, Tim, they're waiting on us right now," Andrea said, ushering me out the door in haste.

We jumped in the rental car, with Helen at the wheel, and quickly headed back downtown.

"What are we doing?" I asked; once we were underway.

"Helen found someone here in town that can read music and play the piano" Andrea explained.

"Oh, OK" I nodded with a sigh.

...The ladies sure as hell could have gone without me, I hadn't even had time to wash the sweat off my face yet but that was alright, I reasoned with a shrug, I'd gotten in a decent workout so I was happy. I really had no interest in going to a music store but I held my tongue and just decided to enjoy the outing with the ladies.

Helen soon pulled up to a large music store that apparently specialized in pianos. The three of us got out of the car and walked inside.

"Hello, I'm Helen Lunsford, I called about half an hour ago and was told to ask for a gentleman named Lance Alderwood," Helen said to the cashier.

"I'm Lance Alderwood," an impeccably dressed man in his early forties said, from our left.

Lance Alderwood was a man with shiny shoes and manicured hands. The guy didn't look like he was capable of changing a tire on his Subaru; if his life depended on it...

"Hello, Lance, I'm Helen Lunsford and I was hoping that you could take a quick look at some music a friend of ours wrote, many years ago. Oh, and this is Tim and Andrea Donovan" Helen said shaking the man's hand while nodding toward us.

Andrea and I briefly shook hands with Lance.

...Making eye contact with the other man, it was blatantly apparent to both, Lance and myself, that neither of us was very impressed with the other, yet we shook hands regardless and greeted each other with a quick "Hello."

"Miss Lunsford, I can only spare you five minutes, I'm a very busy man" Lance replied, politely.

"That should be more than adequate, Lance, and your efforts are greatly appreciated" Helen replied brightly with her award-winning smile.

"That's your friend's music?" Lance asked, nodding at the notebook in Helen's hands.

"Yes, please give us your honest opinion, Lance," Helen said, handing the man her notebook.

Lance took the notebook from Helen and quickly began studying the written music with a bored expression on his face.

A full minute passed as Lance stood motionless and stared at the notebook.

Lance then slowly turned several pages and another minute passed.

"...The piece is entitled 'Castle of Weeds'?" Lance finally asked, looking at the top of the first page again.

"Yes, she worked on this music for an extremely long time. We've found more than three dozen versions of this music and it apparently took her years to refine it to her own satisfaction. From what we can tell, this appears to be the final version of the piece" Helen replied.

"...Would you mind if I play this?" Lance asked with a blank expression on his face.

"We would like that, very much!" Andrea answered.

"Judy, hold my calls, please," Lance said to the cashier.

"Certainly, Lance" the girl replied.

Lance now led us to a huge open-top grand piano within the showroom.

"What year was this piece written?" Lance asked, sitting down at the piano.

"She began work on this piece sometime during late nineteen-sixteen" Helen replied.

"Nineteen-sixteen? You knew this lady?" Lance asked; as he set the notebook in front of him.

"She was a distant relative of a close friend" Helen explained.

Lance nodded his head and without another word, began playing the piece that The Countess of Knoff had first written, more than a hundred years ago.

Upon hearing the first few chords of the piano, I immediately associated the piece with music that had been composed during the Civil War, the music was rich, deep, and meaningful, it was moving.

...The Countess of Knoff had been dead for well over half a century, but now, suddenly right before me, she came vibrantly alive again within the keys of the piano. It suddenly dawned on me that The Countess of Knoff was now speaking directly to us through her music, as if she were alive this very moment and playing this very piano herself, right before us.

Lance, apparently a master musician himself, understood the language of the written music that the Countess had written. Although the music had no verbal words associated with it, the piece seem to flow freely and evoke the images of two young people within a romantic story, two people that were overly intoxicated with the feelings of young love and exuberance. The music was joyful; and seemed to fill the entire room with feelings of unlimited joy and optimism.

After another minute, the music abruptly stopped, and with a single strike of a lonely key, began again.

Now the notes were melancholy, giving someone that was listening, feelings of deep sadness and disbelief. The notes now reminded me of a piece once composed by John Anderson called "Seminole Wind." Seminole Wind had a piano solo at its beginning and also at its end which had always struck something deep within me. The Countess of Knoff's "Castle of Weeds" now brought up those same deep emotions, only more so...

I suddenly realized that Helen and Andrea were now both holding me in a three-way hug, Helen had genuine heartfelt tears in her eyes, the piece was very moving to her also.

After several more minutes, the music stopped and the showroom suddenly seemed incredibly silent, almost as if a dear friend had just left forever, without even having said goodbye.

"...My God..." someone said quietly in disbelief, a moment later. Looking around me now, I saw a dozen people standing frozen in awe at what they had just listened to.

There was then a heartfelt applause from the small crowd.

"Helen, you OK, baby?" I asked, brushing back her hair.

"I've heard that piece several times before, Tim. Danny used to play it, but he wouldn't ever tell me where he'd gotten it. He'd cry whenever he'd play that piece, now I understand why" Helen sniffled.

"Mister Alderwood, thank you for playing this piece for us. We can't begin to express how much your welcoming us here today means to us" Andrea said, shaking the man's hand again.

"I have never heard, much less, played anything as moving as that piece. I don't know who your friend is, - or was, but she was an extremely gifted composer and I would hope that you'll eventually let someone record that piece. The world is in dire need of such talent these days, and I am honored to have had the privilege of playing it, however, limited my own talent may be" Lance said, with face flushed and trembling hands.

"You did marvelously, Lance!" Helen replied, pulling away from me and wiping her eyes.

"Miss Lunsford, I am a piano salesman, not a composer. However, I could put you in touch with some people that would do that piece of work justice, and also generate a lot of revenue for the work's rightful owners, if they'd be interested. By the way, did your friend complete any more works?" Lance asked.

"Lance, I can't go into any details right now, but I would love to have your card, and I'll be getting back in touch with you in the near future" Helen answered.

"Certainly, I would be delighted to talk with the three of you again!" Lance replied, taking out his wallet and handing Helen a card.

"How do you know that piece hasn't already been recorded, Lance?" I asked.

"Mister Donovan, I have studied classical music, my entire life, and I have never heard that piece, or even anything remotely like it, ever. If it had ever been recorded or even played somewhere, then I or one of my associates would have eventually discovered it. May I strongly suggest that the three of you guard that piece of music as if it were made of gold, because there are many within the world that would love to steal it, and call it their own work" Lance said with a somber tone.

"Thank you, Lance, we will treat it with the utmost care and respect, - the person who wrote that music was someone that deserved to be respected, as well" I replied, shaking the man's hand firmly and smiling.

...Riding in the car again now, the ladies and I were strangely silent for once. Usually, we were, all three, talking at once and trying to get a word in edgewise, but not today.

Finally, I broke the silence.

"I've never really considered myself much of a piano fan. In fact, I've never really thought about it, one way or the other, until right this very minute. That piece of music moved me, ladies. I said, staring out the rear passenger's window.

"It was powerful the first time I heard Danny play it, Tim, and it still is" Helen answered, from behind the wheel.

"I wonder why Danny never recorded her music, himself? when he went solo" Andrea asked.

"I think if Danny were sitting in the car with us right now, Andrea, he'd tell us that her music was the one part of her that he wanted to keep just for himself" Helen answered.

"...You're probably right, Helen" Andrea answered.

"I wonder if he'd counted on us finding her music and eventually giving it to the world?" I asked aloud.

"Danny was a romantic at heart, Tim, so I'd imagine he did just that" Helen replied.

"...Maybe so, Helen" I answered.

"Castle of Weeds, - obviously the title of her work implied the lies and deception of Prominent House and her lost love of the forgotten soldier that she was going to marry," Helen said, deep in thought.

Helen's statement was blatantly obvious and neither Andrea nor I replied.

...Rubbing my eyes, I realized that I was suddenly and unexpectedly drained of energy now. The music composed by the Countess had produced a powerful effect on all of us, it seemed.

"According to the online dictionary, the Countess had apparently been unable to speak, but she certainly spoke to me, this afternoon," I said quietly.

"She spoke to all of us, Tim. You ready to spend the rest of the day in bed now?" my wife asked, looking back at me.

"Let's, all three, go for a long quiet walk this afternoon" I suggested.

"Good Idea!" Andrea said; as Helen turned the car into the hotel's parking lot.

After parking the car, the ladies and I got out and locked the doors of the vehicle.

"You going to go for a walk with us now, babe?" Andrea asked Helen.

Helen silently walked up to us and took Andrea and me in a three-way hug.

"Not right now, I need to be alone for a while. You two go and enjoy a nice walk and we'll see you in the morning" Helen replied.

"You OK, baby?" Andrea asked.

"I'm OK, Andrea, I just need some time alone so I can think, right now" Helen replied.

"K, we love you, Helen Lunsford" my wife replied.

"I love both of you too. Go enjoy each other now and I'll see you bright and early tomorrow" Helen answered.

"You're sure you're OK? I asked Helen.

" I'm fine, Tim, - c'mon, get out of here now, you two!" Helen said waving her arms; as if shooing away horses.

Andrea now pulled Helen close and whispered something into the other girl's ear. Helen quickly broke out with a bark of laughter.

"HA! made ya smile, Helen Lunsford!" Andrea said.

"GO - AWAY, you two! I'm fine, see you in the morning, for coffee" Helen said as she turned and began walking toward the hotel entrance, with a backward wave to us.

Andrea and I began walking.

"Should I even ask what it was that you whispered to Helen just now, wife?" I asked, taking Andrea's hand.

"You really don't want to know," Andrea said with a sudden smile on her face.

"That's what I thought you'd say, Andrea Millhouse" I answered.

"My name isn't Andrea Millhouse, Tim" she answered.

I ignored her.

We walked in silence for a quarter mile but the weather was becoming noticeably colder with the oncoming evening.

"Andrea, it's cold out here, let's go take a hot bubble bath and crawl into bed," I said, steering us back in the direction from which we'd just come.

"You're the only Norwegian, that I've ever met, Tim, that hates the cold," Andrea said.

"Half Norwegian; and you're the only Cherokee, that I've ever met, Andrea Millhouse, that likes the damn cold" I retorted.