Hide nor Hair (A Jersey Girl Cozy Mystery Book 2) by Jo-Ann Lamon Reccoppa Page A

men turned in their seats to look at me.
    “Hey! Are you crazy? For God’s sake, watch the road!” I told Hank. For the first time since meeting him, I saw him smile.
    After ten minutes of boat shots, shoreline shots, and the boardwalk in Asbury Park, I completely lost my composure and began to beg.
    “Please, can we go back now? Drake said these things suck up a lot of fuel, so you’ll save money if you’re not up in the air too long. I’m really sorry, but I think my heart’s going.”
    I knew I was babbling, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. I really, really didn’t want to be in that plane.
    “You do realize landing is the most dangerous part of flying, right?” Hank asked.
    “I don’t care if we crash and burn! As long as it’s on terra firma!” I insisted.
    Willy chuckled, and Hank Barber began another slow turn to take us back to the airport. It took barely five minutes before we were circling to come in for a landing.
    Willy continued to snap away, taking pictures of the trees in the distance, the highway, and the expansive field surrounding the landing strip. I focused on him to take my mind off of our descent. He took a couple of shots, pulled the camera away from his eye, looked down, and then lifted the camera to get a few more shots.
    “I think …” he began.
    “What?” I asked.
    “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
    “A little airsick, buddy?” the pilot asked, concerned.
    “Maybe a little,” Willy told him as the plane touched down as softly as a mother kisses her baby’s toes.
    The plane came to a complete stop, and we climbed out. I resisted the urge to drop to my knees and kiss the ground, though Willy looked so unsteady on his feet, I was sure he would.
    “You don’t look so good,” I told him, taking his arm.
    “And you look a little green around the gills yourself,” he said. “Jesus, Colleen. Did you have a stroke? I’m not kidding.”
    “Your reporter had a panic attack is all,” Hank told him. “I’ve seen it before. Stop off for a good stiff drink on your way home. You’ll feel better.”
    My legs were wobbly, and I felt light-headed, though I was pretty sure Hank Barber was right. It probably was nothing more serious than a panic attack. Besides, at that point, Willy concerned me far more than my own shaky nerves.
    “Mr. Barber, would it be okay to come back early Monday morning to do a sit-down interview about the flying lessons and the flight instruction classes? I really think I need to get Willy home, or to a bar or something.”
    The instructor agreed. “I’ll just run inside to get you some brochures. We can go over the basics on Monday. We could even do it over the phone, if that’s better for your schedule.”
    I remembered the story was due on Tuesday morning. “Either way,” I told him.
    When I had the brochures in hand, Willy and I headed straight for his Jeep in the parking lot. I wasn’t sure if he was okay or not.
    “Do you want me to drive you back to the newspaper? I can find somebody at the office to come back with me to pick up your car.”
    Willy shook his head. “Neither of us should be driving. I think we’re both too shaky, but take your car and follow me to The Press Box. I need a drink. We both need a drink.”
    “Maybe you’ll feel worse if you have a drink,” I said.
    “I’m not sick, Colleen. I just want to calm down and review the pictures I took when we were landing,” he told me, holding up his camera. “I think I saw something in the field, and I’m pretty sure I got a good shot of it.”
    “What do you think it was?” I asked.
    Willy’s complexion went completely pale, and I thought if he didn’t get that drink soon, he’d fall over dead on the spot.
    “I think I saw a body!”

7
    The Press Box, a stand-alone place near the Town Crier offices, was more or less the official bar of the newspaper staff. There was no ambiance at The Press Box, and it certainly didn’t possess even a shred of family atmosphere.