The Race

“No, he doesn’t.”

“But he obeys you.”

“He has no choice. He knows that I know his banker. And he knows that if he ever harms a hair on Danielle’s head, I will paste him in the snoot.”

The first thing Bell noticed about Danielle was that her white patient’s dress was brand-new. The second was that she regarded Andy Moser more like a kid brother than a boyfriend. He backed away to let them have a moment together. Andy was tongue-tied. Bell called, “Andy, why don’t you show Danielle what you’ve done to her father’s machine?”

Andy fell to the task eagerly, and Danielle walked around it with him, oohing and ahhing, and stroking the canvas with her fingertips. “Many improvements,” she a

“Andy’s turned her into a lamb,” said Bell. “She’s rescued me more than once.”

“I never realized you already knew how to fly.”

“He’s still learning,” Andy said grimly.

“Your father built a real sweetheart,” said Bell. “She’s amazingly strong. The other day, a stay was damaged, and the others held together for it.”

“Elastico!” said Danielle.

“Was your father elastico?” Bell asked gently.

Her big eyes lighted in happy memory. “Like biglia. India-rubber ball. Rimbalzare! He bounced.”

“Were you shocked how he died?”

“That he killed himself? No. If you stretch banda too much, too many times, it breaks. A man breaks when too much goes bad. But before, he was rimbalzare. Is Josephine piloting Celere’s monoplano in the race?”

“Yes.”

“How does she fare?”

“Behind by a full day.”

“Brava!” Danielle smiled.

“I was surprised to learn that Marco had another machine in the race. A big biplane with two motors.”

Danielle sneered, “Who do you think he stole that from?”

“Your father?”

“No. Marco copied the biplane from a brilliant student he befriended in Paris. At the École Supérieure des Techniques Aéronautiques et de Construction Automobile.”

“What was his name?”

“Sikorsky.”

“Russian?”

“And part Polish.”

“You knew him?”

“My father lectured at the École. We knew everyone.”

“Do you know Dmitri Platov?”

“No.”

“Did your father?”

“I never heard the name.”

Bell weighed another question. What more could he learn about her father’s suicide from her that might be worth the pain it might cause? Or should he rely on James Dashwood to ferret it out in San Francisco? Andy surprised him, stepping closer and muttering through tight lips, “Enough. Give her a break.”

“Danielle?” Bell asked.

“Yes, Mr. Bell?”

“Marco Celere convinced Josephine that he is the sole inventor of her aeroplane.”

Her nostrils flared and her eyes flashed. “Thief!”

“I wonder whether you could give me some. . ammunition to convince her otherwise?”

“What does she care?”

“I sense disquiet. Doubt.”

“What does it matter to her?”

“At her core is something honest.”

“She is very ambitious, you know.”

“I wouldn’t believe everything I read in the papers. Preston Whiteway’s competitors have only just begun to support his race.”

Danielle gestured angrily at the wall. “I see no papers here. They say newspapers will confuse us.”

“Then how do you know Josephine is ambitious?”

“Marco told me.”

“When?”

“He was boasting when I stabbed. He said she was ambitious, but he was even more ambitious.”

“More ambitious? She wants to fly. What did he want? Money?”

“Power. Marco didn’t care about money. He would be a prince, or a king.” She tossed her head and laughed angrily, “King of the toads.”

“What is there about Josephine’s machine that is indisputably your father’s invention and not Marco Celere’s?”

“Why do you care?”

“I am driving a machine your father invented. I have a strong sense of your father’s genius and his skills and maybe his dreams. I don’t think they should be stolen from him, particularly as he is not here to defend himself. Can you give me something I can use to defend him?”

Danielle closed her eyes and knitted her brow. “I understand,” she said. “Let me think. . You see, your monoplano, she was made later. After Marco made his copy. Marco is like a sponge. He remembers everything he ever sees but never has his own idea. So Marco’s monoplano has no improvements that my father made in yours.”

“Like what? What did he improve? What did he change?”

“Alettoni.”

“But they look exactly the same. I compared them.”

“Look again,” she said. “Closer.”

“At what?”

“Cardine. How do you say? Pivot. Hinge! Look how the alettoni hinge to your aeroplane. Then look at Josephine’s.”

Bell saw the startled expression on Andy Moser’s face. “What is it, Andy?”

“The boys were saying her flaps were lightly seated. The pintles were too small. That’s why the flap fell off.”

Bell nodded, thinking hard. “Thank you, Danielle,” he said. It had been a productive visit. “We have to go. Are they treating you well?”

“Better, grazie. And I have lawyer.” She turned to Andy and gave the mechanician a dazzling smile. “Thank you for visiting me, Andy.” She extended her hand. Andy grabbed it and shook it hard. Danielle rolled her eyes at Bell and said, “Andy, when a lady gives you her hand, it is sometimes better to kiss it than shake it.”

Bell said, “Andy, get the machine ready to start. I’ll be there in a minute.” He waited until Andy was out of earshot. “There is one other thing I must ask you, Danielle.”

“What is it?”

“Were you ever in love with Marco Celere?”

“Marco?” she laughed. “Mr. Bell, you can’t be serious.”

“I have never met the man.”

“I would love a sea urchin before I would love Marco Celere. A poisonous sea urchin. You have no idea how treacherous he is. He breathes lies as another man breathes air. He schemes, he pretends, he steals. He is truffatore.”

“What is truffatore?”

“Imbroglione.”

“What is imbroglione?”

“Impostore! Defraudatore!”

“A con man,” said Bell.

“What is con man?” she asked.

“A confidence trickster. A thief who pretends to be your friend.”

“Yes! That is Marco Celere. A thief who pretends to be your friend.”

Isaac Bell’s quick mind raced into high gear. A murdered thief whose body was never found was one sort of mystery. A murdered confidence man whose body disappeared was quite another. Particularly when Harry Frost had cried in bewildered anguish, “You don’t know what they were up to.”

Nor did you, Harry Frost, thought Bell. Not until after you tried to kill Marco Celere. That’s why you didn’t kill Josephine first. You didn’t intend to kill her at all. That twisted desire came later, only after you learned something about them that you thought was even worse than seduction.

Bell was elated. It had been a most productive visit indeed. Although he still did not know what Marco and Josephine had been up to, he was sure now that Harry Frost was not merely raving.

He said, “Josephine told me that you wept that Marco stole your heart.”

He was not surprised when Danielle answered, “Marco must have told her that lie. I’ve never met the girl.”

Danielle helped Bell and Andy roll the Eagle to the far end of the asylum lawn and turned it into the wind. She gripped the cane tail skid, as Andy spun the propeller, and held fast, retarding its forward motion while he struggled to hold it back and scramble aboard at the same time. She was strong, Bell noticed, and when it came to flying machines she knew her business.

Bell cleared the asylum wall and followed the rail line to its co