Unfinished Symphony (Logan 3)

"I like that." He paused and tilted his head to consider. "You know, that makes sense. You have to know someone to care enough to lie to him. I don't lie much to strangers either." He thought and nodded. "Well?"

"You don't look like a man in his forties," I said.

"But I look like a man in his thirties?" He waited, his eyes tightening.

"Early or mid-thirties," I admitted.

"That's because my hair's starting to thin out at the top of my forehead and that comes from stress. I'm really only twenty-eight." He started to turn and stopped. "What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't tell you my name, but it's Melody, Melody Logan."

"Melody? Don't tell me you sing and you're on your way to Los Angeles to become a star," he said disdainfully as he continued walking.

"No, I'm not going there to become a star," I replied, but I didn't think he really heard me.

"Right up here," he said, indicating an escalator. "You've got to check your purse, so if you have a gun in it, you'd better take it out now."

"A gun!"

"Just kidding," he said.

When we reached the entryway, I watched him put his briefcase on the table and realized they were looking at an X-ray screen. I put my purse on the moving table and walked through the metal door. A ringing sound started and the attendant stepped up to me.

"Have any change or keys in your pockets?"

"No, ma'am," I said.

"It's probably that necklace. Put it in the basket," she ordered.

Jerome Fonsworth stood watching and smiled at me. Slowly, I took off the necklace Billy had

given me and put it in the basket. Then I walked through the gate again, this time without the ringing sound.

"Okay," she said, offering me the basket to take out my necklace. I did so quickly and put it on. Then I grabbed my purse and joined Jerome.

"I should have told you that would happen. I always have to take off this watch." He checked it as he slipped a shiny gold watch back on his wrist. "You're going on American, flight one-oh-two also?"

"Yes."

"We have almost an hour. Want a cup of coffee or something?" he said, nodding toward the cafeteria.

"I might have a cup of tea."

"Stomach's woozy?" he kidded.

"As a matter of fact, it is," I said. I didn't see why I should be ashamed of being nervous. I bet he had been nervous the first time he had traveled like this, I thought. He heard the defensive tone in my voice.

"It's all right. The reason mine isn't woozy is because it's turned into a tin can from all the fast food I eat on the road and all the plane food I eat. Come on," he said and led me into the cafeteria. He ordered a coffee and a doughnut and a cup of tea for me.

"Thank you," I said when he insisted on paying for it.

"It's no big deal. I'm a bank executive in my father's bank. Money grows on trees," he said and indicated a table near the front of the cafeteria. We sat and he handed me my tea.

"Do you really hate your job as much as you claim?" I asked.

"Hate it? No, I've gotten so I don't feel anything about it. I go through the paces, do what I have to do, and then go home," he said. He didn't look at me when he spoke. His eyes continually wandered. Like everyone else around me, he seemed to be a bundle of wild energy. I thought he might just go poof and rise to the ceiling in a small cloud.

"Where is home?"