Railroaded 4 Murder

by J. C. Eaton

  “I’m engaged to one of your consulting detectives. Of course I know.”

  “All right. Looked to me as if someone tampered with the electrical box used for the train’s circuitry. It was adjacent to where the man’s arm was, and if I’m not mistaken, those were chemical burns on the guy’s hands. The man could have been electrocuted.”

  Or hit in the temple with a tap shoe . . . “What makes you think the box was tampered with? Maybe the guy was making a routine repair. Those Model Railroad clubbers seem to know what they’re doing.”

  “Uh-huh. And they have keys to those boxes. This one was pried open. Scratch marks everywhere. Still, until we get the official verdict from the coroner, it’s all speculation.”

  “Um, yeah. Speculation. I still think that shoe—”

  “Yes, yes. I left word with the posse for the forensics team to bag and tag it. The crew should be arriving any minute, and they’ll scour the place for anything noteworthy. So, now it’s your turn. Suppose you tell me what brought you here and how the body was discovered in the first place.”

  For the next three or four minutes, I gave Deputy Bowman the rundown on the entire situation, beginning with my mother’s phone call following Cecilia’s discovery.

  “Okay, then. I’ll get their names and phone numbers and that’s it for now. If we need to speak further with any of them, we’ll let them know.”

  “Lots of luck getting out of here unscathed. They’ll want to know everything.”

  “Good point. I’ll direct the posse volunteers to handle that task. From my phone. No sense taking a chance and walking over there. And now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way to the coroner’s office.”

  “By the way, the dog really is getting better,” I said.

  “Than what? A snapping turtle? Next time your mother decides on a pet, suggest a goldfish.”

  With that, he started the engine, and I walked back to where my mother and the book club ladies were standing.

  “What was that all about?” my mother demanded. “Does he know who the victim is, and why did he just leave?”

  “He left because his part of the investigation is over for now. A forensics crew is on its way, and they’ll be busy evaluating the scene. And for your information, he spoke with me because he knows you and your friends. And he doesn’t have an hour or so to waste while they go off on tangents.”

  My mother let out a groan.

  “You, Cecilia, Myrna, and Shirley need to leave your contact information with one of those posse volunteers. In fact, the woman volunteer is walking toward us right now. Then you’re free to go.”

  “Does the Sheriff’s Office plan on calling us to let us know what they found out?”

  “I seriously doubt it. Look, for all we know, that man could have suffered a stroke or something. The only reason the place is cordoned off is because it’s a public area and the Sheriff’s Office needs to rule out anything out of the ordinary. Just give the posse volunteers your name and address.”

  “Fine. And the next time you find yourself inches from a dead body, sift through the pockets and look for identification. Now we have to wait until one of the news stations spells it out for us.”

  CHAPTER 5

  My mother invited me to join her and her friends at Bagels ’N More, or maybe even the Homey Hut, once she dropped Streetman off at home. I had to practically restrain myself from shouting, “Oh heavens no,” and instead explained I had lots of housework to do.

  Then she bent down and petted the dog. “It’s too cold for us to eat on those patios. And I didn’t bring Streetman’s outdoor bed for him. The ground is way too hard.” She paused and gave me one of those looks that could only mean one thing – I was in trouble.

  “If you’re not joining us, Phee, you could drop Streetman off at my house. You’ve got a key. Just be sure to give him a handful of his kibble and two or three of those mini biscuits I keep in the glass jar on the counter. That way I can go straight to the restaurant with the girls. And if you can find the time, I’ve got a recording on a cassette tape of a pizzicato dance. He loves to get up on his hind feet and move to the music.”

  “No dance. No music, but if it means getting right out of here, I’ll drive him home. And for goodness’ sake, please don’t pester the posse volunteers for the victim’s name. They have no way of knowing.”

  “But you might. If Deputy Bowman contacts your office.”

  “He’ll only do that if it’s a suspicious death, and if, for some reason, they want to bring Williams Investigations into the case. My money’s on the nightly news. DVR it or something if you’re not going to be home. Catch you later.”

  She handed me Streetman’s leash, and the little Chiweenie pranced over to my car without incident. Then something dawned on me. The car! Where was the victim’s car? When I pulled up, only my mother’s car was parked in the far end of the lot. That meant the victim either walked to the model railroad exhibit or got dropped off by someone else. The likelihood of him parking by the main building made absolutely no sense. I mulled that thought over and wondered if I should share it with Deputy Bowman. Then I thought otherwise. He’s the detective. Let him figure it out.

  Back at my mom’s house, Streetman swallowed one of his mini biscuits without even tasting it right before Marshall phoned.

  “Is everything okay? Augusta said you called. Something about finding a body by the railroad exhibit in your mother’s community.”

  “Oh yeah. Not the greatest way to start off my day. Cecilia spotted it when she took her early morning walk. Actually, she spied an arm and called my mother. Long story. Apparently, Cecilia and the posse have a history regarding her emergency calls. Anyway, the posse arrived and called it in, and Deputy Bowman showed up.”

  “Without Ranston?”

  “Uh-huh. I consider that the high point of my morning. Maybe he got the day off. I didn’t ask.”

  Marshall chuckled. “What’s your take? Heart attack or other?”

  “Other. And Bowman thought so, too, only his take on the situation differed from mine. I spotted a tap shoe with those heavy cleats on it. A good thrust on the temple and it would knock someone out. Or worse.”

  “And Bowman?”

  “He said it looked as if the man might have been electrocuted while he was working on the train’s junction box.”

  “So, an accident, then?”

  “Um, no. The box was pried open. Tampered with. Bowman thought the man might belong to the Model Railroad Club and, if so, those guys have keys to the junction boxes. I guess the forensics team will figure all that out. Meanwhile, my mother and her friends are beside themselves wondering who the victim was.”

  “They should know the drill by now. Next of kin gets notified and then the TV stations will air the information.”

  “Oh, they know all right. They just don’t want to wait. It slows down the gossip.”

  Just then, Streetman let out a yelp.

  “You’ve got the dog with you?”

  “More like the other way around. I’m at my mother’s house. I dropped Streetman off so she could hurry over for coffee with the ladies. That’s when you called. I’m heading home now. I’ve got corned beef and cabbage in the Crock-Pot, so we should be all set for dinner.”

  “Great. I should be home before five. If for some reason I happen to find out more about your mystery victim, I’ll let you know.”

  “Happen?”

  Then the dog yelped again. “Hold on, I think someone’s at the door.”

  I walked to the window and, sure enough, my mother’s neighbor, Herb Garrett, was a few yards from the front door.

  “Herb’s coming up the walkway. I’d better see what he wants. Try not to get into too much trouble today.”

  “Nah, you already took care of that for us.”

  I laughed and ended the call as Herb knocked on the door.

  He sucked in his stomach and smiled. “Hey, cutie, is your mother available?”

 
“Only if you feel like chasing her down at Bagels ’N More or the Homey Hut. Is it something important? I was on my way out.”

  “I wanted to give her the heads-up on some news I heard from Wayne. You remember Wayne from my pinochle crew?”

  “Uh-huh.” And Bill. And Kevin. And Kenny. And their nonstop grumbling about everything.

  “Tell your mother Wayne was driving by on Beardsley Road and it looked to him like someone took a header off that incline by the model railroad tracks. Wayne saw everything.”

  “Driving by?”

  “Oh hell no. He pulled over across the street. Got out of his car and took a good look. Saw the coroner’s guys loading the stiff into their van.”

  “So Wayne saw the aftermath, not the actual incident.” Or my mother standing there with her friends.

  “Duh. He said there was a crowd of people, but they were too far away for him to see if he recognized anyone.”

  I figured my mother would eventually tell Herb she was part of that crowd Wayne had spotted, so I filled him in. Somehow, he didn’t seem all that surprised.

  “Does Harriet have any idea who bit the dust? Was it foul play? All Wayne could tell me was there were a few sheriff’s cars, but what the heck, they send out a militia for the tiniest fender bender.”

  “Um, I don’t think so. Like I said, you could always stop by Bagels ’N More or the—”

  “That’s okay. I’ll catch her later. Nice running into you, cutie.” Then he paused for a minute and coughed. “Damn allergies. I never know what’s pollinating around here.”

  I tried not to groan as I shut the door. Then I gave the dog a small handful of kibble, retrieved my bag from the counter, and left, making sure I locked up. It was unbelievable. This place was a veritable rumor mill and now, with the latest incident, I could practically guarantee the phone lines would get plenty of use before the day was out. What I didn’t realize at the time was that it would be my phone, with me fielding all the calls.

  It began the moment I set foot in the house. The red light on the landline was blinking, so I pushed the button and played the message.

  “Phee! It’s your aunt Ina.” Like I wouldn’t recognize that voice. “Your mother left me a message about a dead body and some railroad tracks. I wasn’t sure if it was a book she wanted us to read for the book club or if she happened upon a corpse while she was walking that dog of hers. The message wasn’t that clear. I called her back, but she’s not home, and the voice mailbox on her cell phone is full. Tell her she needs to erase old messages. Call me if you know anything.”

  I contemplated returning the call right away so I could get it over with, but before I had the chance, the phone rang again. I looked at the caller ID and I saw it was Lyndy. I was safe.

  Lyndy sounded as chipper as always when I answered. “Hi, Phee! You’re not going to believe this, but my aunt called. You know, the busybody who lives in your mom’s community. Anyway, she wanted to let me know she saw the coroner’s van by Beardsley. Said they were loading up a body from that steep slope by the railroad exhibit. She was driving and pulled over. Couldn’t get a good look, though, because some guy was in front of her and had the better vantage point. Can you believe it?”

  “Not only can I believe it, I was there.”

  For the next five minutes, I filled Lyndy in on all the details, beginning with my mother’s phone call and ending with Herb’s impromptu visit to her house.

  “Holy cow! I guess the deceased must have had a heart attack or stroke, huh?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Then I expounded on my original rendition of events. This time with my full-blown theory about the tap shoe and Deputy Bowman’s observation about the junction box.

  It took Lyndy all of three seconds to come up with her own theory. “I’ll bet the victim got shocked from messing around with all those wires in the circuit box and was knocked out for a second. Then someone took advantage of it and whooped him over the head with the tap shoe. Hard enough to kill him. You said it was a woman’s tap shoe, right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, maybe the victim was having an affair with her and things went south. Oh my gosh. You don’t suppose it was the guy with the lip-locking floozy, do you?”

  “Oh my gosh, Lyndy. You’re getting as bad as my mother.”

  “Yeesh. Well, if it turns out to be something more than a medical reason or natural causes, I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough. Let me know, huh? I live vicariously through your escapades.”

  “I doubt this will be much of an escapade, but sure, I’ll let you know. Catch you later.”

  Finally, I was able to make myself a cup of coffee and a sandwich before tackling some of the smaller house projects I’d been putting off, like organizing my closet. True, it wasn’t exactly a “house project” in the real sense of the term, but it was a project for me, and technically, it had to be done in the house.

  When we first moved in here, we were happy to get as many boxes as we could unpacked and, in a rush to free up floor space, I’d hung and stacked my clothing wherever it would fit, regardless of season. I had bathing suits hung next to heavy jeans and long sweaters draped over tank tops. The whole mess gave me the willies. But not as creepy as the message I got from Augusta about a half hour after Lyndy and I finished talking. I was in the closet working and didn’t feel like charging over to the phone. The hair nearly stood up on my neck when I played the message back.

  “Phee, it’s Augusta. Mr. Williams and Mr. Gregory blew out of here as if someone lit their pants on fire. They wanted me to tell you Deputy Bowman called. He got an ID on that body, and when he went to deliver the unfortunate news to the maybe-not-so-grieving widow, he found out she was one of Mr. Williams’s clients. The one from yesterday. The Choo-Choo Chick affair? Call me when you get a minute. I’m going to be here for another hour.”

  Of all the coincidences in the world, Lyndy had managed to hammer down the entire situation with a darned good guess. The hairy arm Cecilia saw under the bench by the model railroad tracks belonged to Roxanne’s husband. What was his name? Willis? Winton? Oh crap . . . Wilbur. It was Wilbur.

  I stared at the phone, not knowing who to call first. Lyndy? And tell her it was time to consider a new career as a psychic? My aunt Ina? What was I? Crazy? Without giving it any further thought, I dialed the office and waited for Augusta to pick up.

  CHAPTER 6

  “She’s not a suspect, is she?” I blurted out the minute Augusta answered the phone. “Is that where Nate and Marshall went? To Roxanne’s house? Or did Deputy Bowman arrest her?”

  “Hold your horses. You’re starting to sound like your mother. And no, Mr. Williams’s client wasn’t arrested. Yet. And I say yet because the way things go around here, it wouldn’t surprise me. Anyhow, the men went to have a chat with Deputy Bowman. Something about a tampered circuit box for that model railroad. If you ask me, Bowman must think his office is going to be up to its elbows with that investigation, so he figured he’d get ahead of the game and clue Mr. Williams and Mr. Gregory in. Besides, the wife is already one of our clients.”

  “Knowing how things work, the county lab won’t get definitive results on that box for days. And as far as the body is concerned, other than any obvious wounds, toxicology results can take weeks.”

  “Yep. Got that right. Even if a body was mauled to death by a pack of hungry javelina, they’ll still want to know what the victim ate and ingested prior to that.”

  Yeesh. That’s a vision I can do without. “So, Wilbur Maines, huh? I wonder if he had any enemies.”

  “If he was flitting around with one of those chickadees in the Railroad Club, could be that woman’s husband wanted to put a stop to it.”

  “Geez, Augusta. This guy’s death is going to play out like a never-ending soap opera for my mother’s book club ladies. I suppose all the news channels will release his name later today.”

  “My money’s on the four p.m. slot on channel three. Aft
er that, anything’s fair game.”

  “So you think Nate and Marshall will get called into this?”

  “If it turns out to be murder, I do. Like I said, Bowman’s getting ahead of the game for once. The Sheriff’s Office is understaffed as it is. More cost efficient to hire consultants.”

  “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Thanks for keeping me posted. Have a good weekend. See you Monday morning.”

  “With bells on.”

  I decided not to make any other phone calls or I’d be mired in them for the rest of the afternoon. No doubt my mother would call me as soon as she watched the evening news. Lyndy, too, I imagined. Taking advantage of the remaining few hours in the day, I rearranged my closet, organized our kitchen drawers so the cutlery would be adjacent to the microwave, and threw in a load of wash.

  By the time Marshall walked in the door, our Crock-Pot dinner was ready and I was itching to know what he’d found out. Thankfully, he was just as eager to spill the beans.

  He planted a quick kiss on my lips. “I know Augusta told you about Bowman, but whoa! I think everyone’s going to be stepping into a landmine.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Wilbur Maines didn’t die of natural causes or an accident. Even if it does take days for the forensics team to issue an official report. And don’t get me started on the autopsy. Roxanne was adamant her husband’s body remain unscathed. Went berserk at the mention of the word ‘autopsy.’ According to Bowman, she put up such a scene, it made him suspicious she had something to do with the guy’s death.”

  “Did you and Nate speak with her?”

  “Nate went over to her house while I had the pleasure of continuing the conversation with Bowman and Ranston back at the posse office in Sun City West.”

  “And?”

  “Among the items taken in as evidence from the scene was that tap shoe you mentioned, a Phillips head screwdriver, which could have belonged to the victim, and get this—a few of the granite rocks near the circuit box that were covered with blobs of what appeared to be superglue or something similar.”