Miss Josephine (Part Four of Six)

In our last episode: Now I know what they mean when they say "the silence was deafening." I also now know how it feels to have a cute redhead hanging on to me as if her life depended on it, which it had a few seconds earlier.

"It's okay Moira. I think it's safe for us to get out of here now."

We got back to our feet and she kissed my cheek. "Until I can think of a better way to repay you, thanks for saving my life, Matt. If you hadn't heard those sounds and known what they meant, I'd be Swiss cheese."

I chuckled. "Hell, girl, I was saving my own hide. I just sort of brought you along for company."

In the lobby and Moira leaned wearily against the reception counter and pulled her trusty cellphone out of the right hip pocket of her jeans. She stood there looking at the screen for several seconds, and then looked at me. "I know I should call someone, but I have no idea who."

"I don't know either. Surely someone heard the racket those 30-cals were making, even out here in the boondocks."

Moira shook her head. "Not if a commercial jet was taking off from the airport on the other side of our property."

"Damn, I forgot all about the airport! I sure hope no jets were taking off. Miss Josephine might have shot one down. I think my suggestion about who to call would be to hold off a minute more and take another look at things in that hangar."

Moira frowned. "Do you think it's safe to go back in there?"

"As long as we don't stand in front of Miss Josephine."

"Matt, in case you didn't notice, there are nine other aircraft in that hangar and most of them have guns too."

"True, but I have a feeling Miss Josephine is unique in the behavior we just witnessed."

Still looking at me as I was nuts for wanting to go back to the hangar, Moira said, "Well, let's not piss her off again!"

We peeked through the hangar doorway. Everything had changed!

For one thing, there was a strong smell of burned cordite in there when we ran out earlier. There was no trace of it now. In fact everything looked just as it had before Miss Josephine threw her temper tantrum.

The two gaping holes in the big hangar door made by her point-thirty caliber machinegun slugs were gone. The piles of brass shell casings under her wings were also gone. Well, almost gone. Something glinted at me from beyond the port main gear tire. I picked up the brass, but didn't mention it to Moira. She already had more than enough information to process.

Moira was standing behind Miss Josephine shaking her head. "Matt, what the hell just happened to us?"

"Well, at least we know who to call now."

"Who?"

"Ghost Busters."

That got a laugh out of Moira. Her smile returned. "You nut!"

Then her concerned expression returned. "What in heaven's name should we do? We'll feel pretty silly telling anyone about all this if there's no proof it really happened. They'd think we imagined the whole thing. Hell, maybe we did!"

"Maybe we did, but either way, I suggest we get the heck out of here and have some dinner. I don't think well on an empty stomach."

Moira nodded. "Okay, but I need to go home first. I ripped the knee in my jeans when we landed on the floor." In a put-on upper crust voice she added, "One simply does not go out to dine in Palm Springs with a hole in one's jeans. It's so last year."

"I see. Okay. Do you want to meet somewhere or should I just follow you?"

"Well, it's a little more complicated than that. I rode my bike today, but my legs are still shaking so much, I doubt if I could ride it now. Matt, If I asked real nice, would you give me a ride home."

"Sure, let's go."

Moira locked the entrance doors and we walked into the parking lot. I pointed to my pride and joy—a Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat. "That's mine."

Moira looked where I pointed and laughed out loud. "That's funny!"

"You can still ride your bicycle, you know."

"No, no. It's not funny that you have a Hellcat. What's funny is my brother is an engineer at Dodge performance vehicles. He helped design that car and he's been promising to borrow one so I can have a ride in it, but he hasn't been able to get one. Now I can tell him not to bother."

"Oh. Well, it might be better not to say anything about it. I don't want your brother mad at me."

Moira looked at me. "What difference does it make if he's mad at you? You don't even know him."

To Be Continued

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Story and design © Steve Eitzen
Header graphic & HPO logo © HPO Productions
Dodge Challenger image © FCA US LLC
Character image © 123RF used by license