The Night Flier Page #2

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and you'll be here again.

See, the faces change but the

end is always the same.

You won't last.

Maybe I'll surprise you.

Maybe you will.

Maybe you'll stick around for a while...

end up just like Dottie.

What are you talking about?

You want my inside view of "Inside View"?

Alright, I'll give it to ya.

And it ain't about no f***ing

philosophy, honey, believe me.

"Inside View" is an illustration of the insane.

It's a diary of the deranged

and dangerously sick...

I'm talking about kindergarten teachers

setting fire to their students

because they think these 5-year-olds

are plotting their executions.

Satanic biker cults slaughtering hitchhikers,

but, here's the fun part...

after talking to these crazy people

all day, every single day,

sometimes their stories can get to you.

Creeping like some kind of a f***ing cancer

and pretty soon all the sh*t

starts making sense.

That's what happened to Dottie Walsh.

Real go-getter, just like you.

She started to believe in the unbelievable.

Not more than a year after Dottie was hired...

she was dead.

Went home one night and took a bath

with a dry cleaning bag

wrapped around her head.

Bye, bye, Dottie...

Hello, Jimmy.

Made for a killer headline, though.

I'm sorry I bothered you.

That's okay.

I thought maybe we could be friends, but-

Yeah, well.

I guess I was wrong.

Jimmy...

Listen to me now, I don't have friends.

I've got my camera,

my plane and my stories,

That's all I want and that's all I need.

So, if you want a friend,

buy a dog.

No hard feelings.

Help me!

Help me, help me!

Help me!

Help me, help me!

Alright, Morrison, what's so goddamn important?

Our batty friend...

has struck again.

Is that so?

Last night, Duffrey, Maryland.

A little pessant town

Got clean away, too.

You shouldn't let it bother you, Richard.

After all this is a youngman's business...

or... young woman's.

That's right, Katherine found it.

Somehow she tapped into a network

of local law enforcement agencies

what that computer of hers...

searched through 100 murder wires

to find one that fit our bad boy's M.O.,

had the information, waiting for me,

on my desk, as soon as I walked

in the door. Now... that is ambition!

Give me the file.

What do you want me to say,

that I was wrong?

Just that you might've been wrong?

You know what a pussycat I am.

Okay, I might've been wrong,

you happy now?

How very large-hearted of you to admit it.

First this guy Claire Bowie up in Maine,

then Buck Kendall in New York.

And now Ray and Ellen Sarch in Maryland.

There's definitely a story here

that needs to be told.

And I think I hear Dwight

calling your name Richard.

Anybody from the straight press

pick up on this yet?

If you're asking if anyone's suggesting

there's a serial killer flying around

out there, the answer's no.

But the FAA and cops are trying to

keep this hush-hush, it won't be long

Here they are, Mr. Morrison.

We need to know which one to run,

we go to press in 20 minutes.

What's that?

uh... it's tomorrow's edition...

If you want it to be, that is.

So...

What's it gonna be?

You son-of-a-b*tch.

Is that a yes?

Run it.

What's that, plan "B", as in Blair?

Not important.

So, I wanna run this guy's back trail

starting with the first murder we know about,

Bowie up in Maine, right?

What about your Nina Briggs story?

F*** Nina Briggs.

Not me!

Oh, there is one small problem, Richard.

Katherine, I'm afraid I have some bad news.

The story is mine, Mr. Morrison, you gave it tome.

Well, looks like he's taking it back.

Katherine, I apologize about this,

but Dees is back on the story.

Now give him your files, if you would.

Mr. Morrison, if I could just-

Please, I made my decision, just do it.

Thank you, dear.

And I suppose you want this too?

I have my own plane, thanks.

How you doing, friend?

Don't believe I know you, mister.

My name's Richard Dees, I'm a reporter.

I was wondering if I can

talk to you for a minute.

Ezra Hannon.

I fix things around here, work the planes.

What paper you say you're from?

"Inside View", you know it?

Oh, yeah.

My wife Martha reads your paper.

After she's done with it I use it

to line our kitty's toilet box.

Soaks up that cat piss real good.

Then you won't mind

answering a few questions.

You wanna talk to me about the killing

of my friend Claire Bowie, don't you?

How did you know that?

Ain't no other reason city folks visit these paths,

except something bad happens,

and this was...

real bad.

But I gotta tell you,

I already told everything

I know to the police.

But, see, I'm not the police.

This'll only take a few minutes, so...

if you don't mind...

I suppose it'll be alright.

Speak loud and clearly and you

tell me what happened

the night that Claire was murdered.

It all began the night

before Claire was murdered.

The night that bastard flew in here.

That plane was a black Cessna sky master, right?

tail number 1-0-1, Bravo lima?

It was one of them sky masters alright.

At least I think it was.

I can't say as I remember

the tail number...

Because I don't.

Ain't that the damndest thing?

Doesn't matter.

Doesn't matter at all,

you just go on ahead now.

The night shift belonged to Claire.

Quiet most time, but not that night.

No, sir...

not that night.

My shift was over

and I was loading up to head home...

that's when he came down.

Let me tell you, Mister...

right from the get-go

that fella didn't seem proper.

Just sorta off.

Why was that?

He was wearing a big cloak.

He was.

Red as a fire engine inside,

black as a woodchuck's a**hole outside.

and when it spread out behind him,

it looked like a goddamn bat's wing, it did.

Come to work about 7:00

that next morning,

headed to chat with Claire before he went home,

like I always did.

'Morning!

Claire?!

But I gotta tell ya...

Claire seemed a bit odd that day...

not quite himself.

This some sort of new service, Claire?

Claire?

Just doing my part is all.

Saw you had a night flier last night.

This him?

Yeah.

Dwight Renfield...

flew in from Derry.

Nice fella...

different...

Said he was leaving tonight.

said he'd stop back to say goodbye.

Looked like he came back alright.

Can't imagine it being anyone else.

Came back and ripped my friend's throat

clean out from his neck...

and left him dead as dirt in winter.

Ugly way to die...

So the plane was there

the whole day?

Yeah.

Did Claire happen to mention calling a cab

for the pilot to take to a motel?

There doesn't seem to be any

with an easy walking distance.

No, I don't remember Claire saying a word

about calling a fella a cab.

What about a limo?

Didn't say nothin' about no limo neither,

and he would've mentioned that.

Check taxi, limousine services.

Seen one more thing, too.

Might not mean nothing,

but then again it might.

Struck me peculiar.

So give...

Seen something strange under that plane.

I did.

Tell me.

Big pile of dirt

Right under the luggage bay it was...

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