Gossip Can Be Murder by Connie Shelton Page B

other direction. He radioed his approach, got the go-ahead and set up the pattern. The elk count had gone well, they’d spotted over five hundred head, and his Fish and Game guys were happy. They’d scheduled him for another count in the Jemez in two more weeks. He brought the aircraft around to a southerly heading and aimed her into the wind. 
    Charlie’s Jeep sat in the small parking lot, he noticed, and he caught the familiar sight of her slender figure as she walked toward Zia Aviation’s fueling station, hands jammed into the pockets of her leather jacket. She’d flown in and out of this airport herself many times and knew just where he’d be landing. He dragged his attention away from his wife and concentrated on the ground. Wouldn’t do to make an awkward landing in plain sight of the tower.
    “Hey there, handsome,” Charlie greeted, as soon as he’d touched down and opened his door. They shared a long kiss as the engine wound down and the main rotor began to slow. “How’d the job go?”
    “Good.” He liked the way she always showed an interest in his work. Not surprising. She’d been on enough jobs with him now that she knew a lot of the people and how their routines went. And she was turning out to be a pretty damn good pilot herself.
    “What kind of food do you want?” she asked. “I thought about the Blue Corn, but then I got to thinking about seafood.”
    “Seafood it is,” he said. “I’ve had plenty of enchiladas this week.”
    He climbed out of the cockpit, retrieved his old Thermos and jacket. “If you can hold on to these . . .” He handed the items off to Charlie. “I’ll get this finished up.”
    He walked around the aircraft, making sure everything looked clean, noticing a faint trace of oil near the rear cowling. Have to check that out before next flight, he noted. A young guy from Zia was walking toward him and Drake told him to go ahead and fill the tank. The day was cooling and his high altitude work was done, so no harm in having the extra fuel weight.
    He watched the young guy for a moment since he didn’t know this one, making sure he followed safety procedure and watching to be sure fuel didn’t slosh onto the JetRanger’s side. While the kid finished fueling, Drake loosely tied the main rotor. He’d be leaving again, probably before dark, so there was no point in bedding her down for the night.
    “Where can we get seafood in the middle of the afternoon?” he asked Charlie as they walked toward the parking lot.
    Her mouth did that funny little squinch that happened when she was thinking. “I think The Horno doesn’t open for dinner until about six. I’m guessing it’s going to be Red Lobster.”
    Drake didn’t mind. Personally, he thought the chain places did a good job for a decent price, and he knew Charlie couldn’t resist those cheese biscuits they made. He draped an arm around her shoulders and nuzzled her hair as they walked. Too bad they weren’t going home together, but she’d already told him that she really ought to get back to that spa place tonight.
    Plus, he knew it wasn’t going to be an early evening for him. He’d be lucky to get much sleep at all, with the work he still needed to do on the lawsuit before touching base with Rick Valdez tomorrow. He gave Charlie another squeeze before they separated and went to their opposite sides of her Jeep.
    She sometimes drove like a bat. He kept his mouth shut. Upside was that they arrived at the restaurant within a few minutes and got a table immediately. The smell of those biscuits was already filling the air by the time the waiter took their order and brought the first basket.
    Charlie filled him in on what she’d been doing at this conference or retreat or whatever it was that her friend Linda had talked her into. Apparently a yoga teacher that nobody liked very much had fallen off a wall and killed herself, and then there was this guru sort of guy that ran the show. Drake smiled and nodded at all