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Back to Vegas, Part One (Suspense, Fiction)
June 23, 2011 - Burt Angeli
People watching, Billy Mitchell International Airport style, made for a good way to kill time.
"O, mother and daughter or two sisters?"
"Kevin, forget that game. What do you want on your sub? We gotta eat and catch a plane pronto."
So much for killing time. Oslo threw down a $20 and grabbed the sandwiches.
"I'll say two cousins with a sordid past," said Oslo, spying the two gals and heading for the Las Vegas gate.
I lagged behind, checking out the women one more time.
The night flight to Las Vegas offered extra seats. I grabbed one row and Oslo wandered three seats ahead.
Sure enough, two familiar faces plopped down in the row across from me. One was a teen-ager decked out in a T-shirt and jeans. The other one, in her 30s, wore sweat pants and a tank top that had me smiling.
"Evening, ladies," I said with a grin, taking my right index finger to tip up a black cowboy hat.
Drawing not even a smirk, I yelled out before Oslo plugged in ear phones and snoozed.
"Four hours and we're there, Oslo. One week of war won ton soup, keno and rest."
Only an hour or so into the flight, my favorite plane companion tapped me on the shoulder. I smiled from ear-to-ear.
"Excuse me. Did you call him Oslo? Are you Kevin Canny, the sportswriter? Did you two solve that missing painting case in Vegas."
Making USA Today and Newsweek on that unexpected adventure gained some attention for us.
"Maybe you can help my daughter and me?"
I listened to her story until somewhere over Colorado. I gulped.
The flight attendant came by with the beverage cart.
"Any hard stuff on there? This could be a rough trip."
(To be continued)
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