Nabbed!: The 1925 Journal of G. Codd Fitzmorgan Read Online Free Page A

peacock feathers
     in her hair. She yelled at the top of her lungs, “There he is!”

    Real peacock feathers!
    The woman was pointing at the small window. people pushed and shove to gather around the tiny pane of goass and watch a teeny
     airplane bump out of the stormy night sky. Someone dimmed the lights overhead, making the scene outside a little easier to
     see— which was a good thing because the window provided a pretty blurry view of the action.
    “I can't see!” someone yelled and pushed in closer to the window. A few guests, including me, stood up on chairs to get a
     better look over the others' heads.
    We watched the airplane's jerky progress. It was being buffeted by the high winds as if it were a toy. The miniscule figure
     of the pilot could now be seen. Finally, ofter a few tense moments, the silent, anxious crowd watched the plane hit the airstrip
     with a jolt and taxi down the runway.
    Cheers exploded, filling the Great Hall with deafening excitement. The crowed rushed toward the double doors that led to side
     lawn and the airstrip, but Charles blocked the exit.

    Everyone crowded around the window.
    “For goodness' sake, Charles, open the doors!” Mr. Hatherford called to the butler.
    “But the rain, sir!” Charles called back. “It will ruin the carpets!”
    Mr. Hartherford laughed. “Who cares about a little rain? These people want to welcome their hero!”
    The butler threw open the doors.Cool night air swept into the room as guests poured out onto the patio. Judge and Mr. Hatherford
     led the way. My eyes went directly from the tiny window that showed the plane to the view through the double doors. I saw
     the plane sitting off in the distance, under a now-clearing sky. The rain had temporarily stopped.
    I had to wait for the crowd to clear before I could fit out the double doors. Knowing this was a historic moments, I used
     the time to sketch the landing.
    I stepped out in the night air. The wet grass instantly soaked through my shoes. The light of the moon illuminated the dramatic
     scene. But the only sound I heard was the pattering of water as it dripped from the eaves of the mansion.
    The crowd was gathered around the plane. But there were no cheers. No shouts of congratulations. The flashbulbs of newspaper
     photographers remained dark.
    Why aren't they cheering? I wondered. I walked closer, politely pushing my way through the crowd.
    When I saw the plane, I understood.
    Judge was staring at the cockpit with confusion and fear on her face.
    “Where is he?” Mr. Hatherford shouted. “Where is my son?”
    Judge took his hand and answered, “He isn't here”. I gazed long and hard inside the small, battered plane. It was completely
     empty. There was no sign of the pilot.
    Jumpin' John Hatherford had vanished.

    Mr. Hatherford collapsed.

June 13, 1925
12:00 Midnight
    “John! Johnny!” Mr. Hatherford's voice cracked as he shouted his son's name. Stunned, the crowd watched in silence as the big man banged on the side of the
     plane. “John, come out of there right now”.
    He broke off. The reality of the situation registered on his ruddy face. There was not a living soul on board that airplane.
     But how could that be? I had watched the plane land myself. My eyes had gone directly from the Great Hall window too the door—
     they had not left sight of the plane long enough for someone to sneak away.
    Mr. Hatherford seemed to be thinking the same thing. He turned to look at us, if searching for some-one in the crowd who was
     pulling a prank. “Airplanes cannot land by the themselves! He must be on board! This isn't funny. I want whoever is involved
     in this to stop it, right now. John, this is not a game—“
    Mr. Hatherford's words broke off agin— his face crumpled in pain as he collapsed against the plane. One hand flew to his chest
     then grasped his left arm. Was he having a heart attack?
    Judge sprang into action. She touched his shoulder. “Hiram, breathe