A Fantastic Airplane

"Excuse me, repeat that. What is it you want?"

"My name is Julian Hickman. I am from Virginia, and my son, Peter, who lives in Tacoma, Washington, said there are things stored here at the bank by my cousin, probably papers. I don't know. This is a little odd. I have no other information. My son picked up boxes of papers, documents, and books a few years ago. My cousin was Bill Gabriel. He was born in Virginia but lived here, outside Missoula. He worked as a timber cruiser, then as an environmentalist, a forestry professor at the University of Montana, and after he retired, as a wildlife photographer. He was our family historian."

"You say there are items stored here at the bank, this bank, First Interstate Bank? We normally only keep customers' things in safety deposit boxes. Do you have a number and a key?"

"No, I said this was odd, but my family is a little odd. I have no key, no real information other than my son, who was by here in 2022 on his way to Virginia and picked up as much as he could carry, things from your basement, a locked cage, he said. My cousin died six years ago, and my son scattered his ashes in the Tetons."

"Is your son the executor of the estate?"

"No, I don't think so. My cousin died suddenly, and my son scattered his ashes in the Tetons, but I don't think he was the executor. Bill liked Peter. It may have been that he was in the Air Force. I've never seen Bill's will. He had quite a bit of money, but I have no idea what happened to that."

"We once had locked cages in the basement, but that is all gone. Everything is now in safety deposit boxes."

"I know how odd this sounds. My wife is out in the car, reconsidering if she should have married me thirty years ago. She says this is the oddest family she has ever met. My dog is with her, wishing we could just drive home. The dog doesn't like camping, doesn't like bears, and thinks a bear box is the safest place to sleep at a campground. She doesn't even want to get out to pee."

"That's funny. I'll bet she is a sweet dog."

"Yes, a border collie. A special needs border collie. My whole family is special needs, a little eccentric. My cousin Bill never married, kept an immaculate house, and strung along a girlfriend for fifty years until she died. He was a perfectionist and said that if he found a dust bunny in his mother's house, it was time for her to go to a nursing home. Yet, with all that prissiness, everything neat and right; he was an outdoorsman, worked as a timber cruiser, and had the most organized VW camper and camping equipment that anyone ever saw. He wrote a family history and traveled the country in an Audi with an Apple Macintosh and fancy scanner in the trunk, locating documents at Universities, libraries, and churches. He tracked down family members, set up his equipment in their dining room, and then went through their attic. I remember him showing up at our house forty years ago, all that cutting-edge equipment in his car and the documents he found all organized, labeled, and cross-referenced. That's what I expect to find here: papers, copies of old deeds, and family letters, nothing personal; he didn't let people get that close. He gave family advice on how to become a millionaire. He sent out a quarterly family newsletter, complaining each time that no one reciprocated. I think someone in this bank, the president or someone, had those things stored for him. Would anyone else know anything?"

"There are other offices in this building. On the second floor is a very secretive federal office. I am not sure they would even let you in."

"He worked for the federal government for a while. He also was the head of biological resources for some department of the Alaska government. He was the environmentalist for the Alaska Pipeline. He could have some federal connections, but I don't know."

"I can't think of anything else. There is an older employee who might know something, but he is on break."

"What if I go upstairs and check. I realize how odd this is. Thanks for your help."

"Hello, My name is Julian Hickman. I see this is an attorney's office. Could you have handled an estate for William Gabriel?"

"No, our firm only handles corporate accounts."

"I tried the US Attorney's office on the second floor. Boy, that's like trying to get into Fort Knox. They buzzed me in, let me stand at a glass partition, then wouldn't talk with me."

"They are a little strange. I've never seen anyone go in or out. I guess I've never been on that floor, and the elevator never stops there."

"Thank you."

"Have you tried the fourth floor? It's the bank's corporate banking office. They do unusual things, more than down in the lobby."

"Hello, my name is Julian Hickman, and this is an odd request. I talked to the receptionist on the main floor, and she suggested I check with other offices. I am looking for a number of items from my cousin's estate that, according to our family lore, are stored here in the bank.

"Come in, I am Nick, a commercial loan officer, tell me more."

"His name was William Gabriel, a professor at the University of Montana. He collected family papers and was a wildlife photographer. Traveled all over the world. Some of his photographs are in National Geographic. Three years ago, my son Peter picked up a bunch of boxes that were stored here. Pete is in the Air Force and said there were more boxes he couldn't take. My wife and I have been visiting him in Tacoma. I decided to stop here in Missoula on the way back to Virginia to see if I could pick up the rest or at least see what was left. I don't think this is in a safety deposit box, just items stored in boxes. "

"What kind of things?"

"We are not expecting money, jewelry, or gold, just paper, maybe photographs, but they would be valuable to our family. Some might even have monetary value. You know, Pony Express letters, early documents. At home, I have colonial deeds and even a 1793 eulogy to John Wesley, an original handwritten copy by a famous colonial minister, one of our relatives."

"You have pricked my curiosity. That is a very odd story; sometimes, odd stories have an element of truth. Could I have your name, address, and phone number? This is not something our office would normally do, but I am willing to look when I get a chance."

"Hello, I was just upstairs talking with Nick in on the fourth floor. He took my number but thought there was little possibility of things still stored here."

"Mr. Hickman, I want you to know we went into the basement while you were upstairs, and there is nothing in the locked cages we once used. Everything has been cleared out."

"Thank you."

"That seems to be it. There is another employee who is still on break. We will say something to him when he gets back."

"Thanks. My wife and I probably need to head on. We have hours to drive until we stop tonight."

"How did it go in the bank?"

"Like expected. Everyone thought it was a bit odd, but they are still looking."

"Suzy and I took a nice walk, and she had a good pee but wanted back in the car. I bought lunch. We can eat while you're driving."

"I wish we could have found whatever Peter didn't pick up. The funny thing is I don't expect old love letters or anything personal, just another mountain of documents related to family history. I have that box at home with his toys and children's books, the only personal things he ever had. I found them in a closet when his mother died. I can't imagine him being just a little boy, tousled hair and barefooted."

"Cindy, I've had three missed calls and now a text. Can you look at that text? I can't read it, but it seems to be from the bank."

"You need to call the bank."

"Mr. Hickman, are you still in town? We found something."

"We are now four hours away. What did you find?"

"You won't believe this; stuffed away in a room in the basement, we found framed photographs, an antique chair, boxes of papers, and a fantastic model airplane, maybe a four-foot wing span, one of those that fly radio control. It's unbelievable. The person who made that was really good."

"The person who made that was a kid, my cousin Bill. It used to hang from the ceiling in his bedroom. He also had toys and tons of other things I wasn't allowed to touch. I was about 8 or 10, and he had gone off to college. After that, his mother put all that in boxes. They vanished, and her house was never the same. Aunt Ruth was a little demanding."

"Who knows what's in the boxes. Would you like to pick them up?"

"As I said, we are four hours away now. There is no way we can turn around. We don't have the extra time. I'll text my son. One of us will show up in a few months, and he will pick up the rest of his things."

"No problem, all that has been here for years and a few more months won't make any difference."

"Did you hear all that? I really want that airplane."

"Yes. Here again, another implausible story that's true because it's your family."