Charles provided Hank with specific items Hank wanted to include in the article he was writing for Wine Specialty Magazine. “Traditionally at the stroke of midnight on the third Thursday in November, the long-awaited release of each year’s bottles of Beaujolais Nouveau from France becomes available. This celebration offered an opportunity to get together with friends to celebrate at home, at local French restaurants, or at many locations across the globe.”
“It's a relief to know that a trip to Beaujolais, France isn’t needed. I'm sorry I missed it when I was in France two years ago. I think these varieties are distinctive in and of themselves,” Hank said. “Glad we now have a domestic option. You're incredible. Every time we get together, I learn something new. You are my best source of information.”
“You flatter me. I hope the wineries agree. Is there anything I can do for you? How about I arrange for a plate of food and wine sent to you?”
“Thanks, but I'm not hungry, and wine won't keep my head clear. Black coffee would be nice. I’ll hang out here until we get to St. Helena and meet up with the authorities. Too bad I didn't get to visit the last car with the observation deck. It would have been fun. What about you?”
“Oh, yes. I've reminisced many times regarding the Presidential candidates and industrial magnates that stood on similar platforms during campaigns and celebrations over the decades. I wonder how many other murders or assassinations have taken place on this or other trains. Well, I should return to the cars and mingle. The show must go on.” Charles smiled and left the vestibule; his head held high.
“What a day!” Hank whispered to himself. Here I am on a writing assignment but winding up being a cop for a day.
A few minutes passed as he contemplated the situation, a young female waiter arrived. “Sir, here's your coffee.”
“Thanks,” Hank said. Sipping the hot brew, he reflected on how he boarded the train, at the McKinstry Street Station this morning, joining a long list of invited and paying guests. Narrowing down the suspect pool from that crowd and identifying the killer may become a nightmare.
He stared out the vestibule window, Reality has a way of clashing with one’s visions and remembrances.
Even though he was a loner, he found enjoyment in this new life. Most of the time, he avoided contact with people except in a casual manner. Life’s experience had convinced him to not deal with intentions of permanency or a future in any of his relationships. No longer the good old boy who showed up on a moment's notice. No longer the boyfriend. No strings and no expectations. Keep it simple.
Since leaving the Los Angeles Police Department, Hank enjoyed his solitude which enabled him to concentrate on his writing assignments. Foremost in his life was a lack of a stable relationship. His biggest regret was letting down his wife and daughter.
A song by Willie Nelson, 'Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain,' brought back memories of separating from Betty, seven years ago. Every time he heard the tune, he remembered the tears leaking from her gorgeous, sad, blue eyes, as she explained her need for them to part. His neglect of her and their daughter caused his wife to become a single parent. Since then, for the past three years, Hank tried to understand why he'd been so self-involved. They had a child, and he loved Betty, but never as much as she deserved. His daughter barely knew him. He'd tried his damnedest, over the last couple of years to make up for it, to salvage something. Lately, she seemed more receptive.
The lesson he learned is there's no going back in time to correct errors in judgment and make things right. What he needed to figure out was how to care more for another person than himself and give without expectations. Easier said than done.
Before his thoughts went any further, Alioto stepped up to him. “Excuse me, Detective. Mr. Beaumont asked me to let you know we are keeping things under control, and no one seems to be the wiser.”
“Thanks, Dan. But, please, I'm retired, call me Hank. How long before we get to St. Helena?”
Alioto looked at his watch. “About an hour, why?”
“Should we slow the train? We don’t want to arrive before the authorities.”
Raising his eyebrows, Alioto said, “You’re right. I never thought of that. I’ll ask the engineer if he can give us more time. Thanks for the suggestion.” Hank, amused that, like so many people, Alioto preferred to be a follower in unknown situations.
His plan was to stroll through the train. Hank approached Mr. Stafford. “How are you doing, Kevin?”
“Fine sir. Nobody has bothered me as I strolled the hallway. I haven't noticed anyone who looks suspicious.”
“That's good. Do you need anything? We arrive within an hour.”
“No, thanks.”
Hank stepped into the men’s room to toss his empty coffee cup when he noticed what appeared to be bloodstains on paper towels in the waste can. He called out, “Kevin come here, please.”
When Kevin walked in, Hank said, “I need you to keep people out of this restroom until I determine if what I’ve found is evidence. Explain that they are inoperable.”
“You can count on me, sir,” Kevin said pursing his lips, his face a study in consideration.
Hank left to view the patrons in other cars. The aromas in the lounge car were enticing, so Hank grabbed a small plate and sampled a few items from the buffet table. Tempted to taste another wine, he avoided the bar. The train continued toward its destination, but at a slower pace. No one suspected what was going on as they reveled in wine and gourmet delights. Conversations grew louder and more exuberant as the travelers received more wine than planned. Within the few hundred yard length of train cars, the killer would be present.
Hank spotted Charles, “Please have the train manager inform the passengers of the delay in disembarkation due to a problem with the train. They don't need to know the Sheriff and other law enforcement have to figure out what to do next.”
“I hope to keep the passengers occupied Henry, but I hope the wait isn't too long. We could have a major problem on our hands. Most of these people expect VIP treatment no matter what’s going on, plus they are unaware there’s been a murder. I expect more than one or two of them sue me due to the change in the program. Fortunately, my trust fund is larger than their combined income.”
That was the first time Hank had heard Charles refer to his wealth. Hank wondered if the nouveau riche passengers realized the extent of his old money fortune. Charles tried smiling but didn’t quite make it. He left to mingle with the crowd, doing his utmost to make the best of a dreadful day.
FOUR
The train pulled into the station as the storm blew passed them to the north. Thirteen minutes passed before the agents from the Bureau of Investigations arrived at the St. Helena station, exited their vehicles and walked to the platform. Waiting for them were the Napa County Sheriff and six of his deputies.
Dan Alioto stepped from the train onto the damp platform. As the train’s manager, it was his responsibility to inform the Bureau of Investigation personnel what had transpired. Hank was right behind him.
Charles joined Alioto and Hank on the platform as the agents approached. Trying to hide his shaking, Alioto turned toward Hank, who knew he wished he could run. The man’s expression cried out, “I'm out of my element here.”
The lead investigator stopped in front of the three men. Glancing at each she said, “My name is Alicia Tomlinson, and the three agents with me comprise the Special Investigation Team from the Sacramento office assigned to this case.” A fourth man walked up and stood beside her. She introduced them. “This is Sheriff Jeff Billings. The men with him are his Deputies.”
Charles reached out to shake hands with Agent Tomlinson, introducing himself, “I'm Charles Beaumont, the host of this fundraising event.” Pointing to the men with him, he said, “This is Dan Alioto, the train manager, and Hank Carson.”
Alioto shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He then provided information that Hank had been the one who secured the crime scene. “We've left the tr
ain's chief of security, Kevin Stafford, to guard the room with the body,” Alioto said, displaying discomfort at having a responsibility he didn't want. He stepped back to allow Charles to relate the rest of the details.
“Once informed of the find, I enlisted my friend, Henry Carson, here, to assist. He knew what we should do, and he secured the crime scene.” Charles placed his hand on Hank's shoulder. “Agent Tomlinson, Hank deserves all the credit here.”
“Please, call me Alicia, Charles,” she smiled with evident admiration.
“Mr. Carson, why did you know you needed to secure the crime scene?” Her voice was soft, yet authoritative.
He held his hand out to her. A smile reached his eyes. “I'm a retired LAPD homicide detective on board to write an assignment for a magazine. No other experienced criminal investigator was here. Charles and the train manager asked me to help. I've known Mr. Beaumont for some time. He's the reason I got this writing assignment for Wine Specialty Magazine.”
She took his outreached hand for a quick shake. “Mr. Carson we will talk soon.”
Hank's gaze swept over her. Her full lips and hazel eyes, rimmed in gold intrigued him. This stranger standing in front of him looked like the woman he'd been dreaming about.
Agent Tomlinson looked striking. About five-foot-six, slender, mid-thirties, with a smooth, freckled complexion. The dark blue pantsuit she wore enhanced her stunning figure. Simple, gold post earrings were the only jewelry she wore. There was no sign of a ring on her left hand. And those eyes! Where have you been all my life, ricocheted throughout Hank's brain, catching him off guard? For the first time in months, he realized he was lonely for female companionship. He wondered what sort of character was she. He wanted more than a four-legged companion. Molly was not enough. The sound of her voice interrupted his reverie.
“Mr. Alioto, please show Agent Michaels to the crime scene. Michaels, take a deputy with you to secure the scene and have him wait for the Crime Scene Unit and the M.E.” The three men nodded as she gave the orders, then headed to board the kitchen car. Agent Tomlinson faced Beaumont and Hank, “Gentlemen, please stay here and describe the events in more detail.”
Hank offered his observation. “A homicide occurred on the train with over two hundred potential suspects. The crime scene is a wine storage cooler in the kitchen car. A famous food and wine critic is the victim. The method was violent and appeared to involve a knife stuck in the victim’s chest. There’s no visible sign of any other weapon. A bar employee found the body inside the cooler. We don’t know when the crime occurred.”
“Is that your take on it as well?” Agent Tomlinson asked Beaumont in a patient tone. He nodded his agreement.
“I have called for the forensic and coroner crews. They will be here as soon as possible. The Bureau takes the lead and investigates with the help of the local Sheriff. We will divide the staff and public into three groups for interviewing,” Tomlinson said, addressing her agents, Charles, and Hank.
No one offered any comment as Tomlinson discussed with her agents the number of participants and personnel to get ready for interviews. She identified the manner for interviewing and documentation of the passengers. Agent Tomlinson assigned Agent Chris Bridge, her second in command, to disembark all passengers except the locomotive crew. She instructed Agents Randy Donovan and Cordero Smith, and a few deputies from the Sheriff's department, to divide the public into groups for transport, by school buses, to the local high school. “Donovan, I want you to check each departing person against the boarding and guest lists. Agent Bridge will interview the locomotive crew aboard the train.”
Hank impressed by how well she held her own in a testosterone fueled career while maintaining her feminist appearance and demeanor.
Agent Michaels and Mr. Alioto joined the group. Michaels held up a wallet in one plastic bag and a cell phone in another, showing them to Agent Tomlinson. She said to Michaels, “Call the office and give the victim's name and information to Ferguson. Instruct him to do a follow-up and notification of next of kin. Be sure to give the phone to CSU when they arrive. Then when the people are ready for interviews be sure to collect the photos from any professional photographers and any cell phone and other photos taken by the public.” Michaels nodded then walked away with his cell phone in hand.
She asked Beaumont and Alioto to make an appropriate announcement to the passengers on the train. “After you make the announcement, have your staff follow normal procedures for assisting the passengers to exit in a safe manner. Do not explain the cause for this departure.” The men nodded and then excused themselves and entered the train.
She turned to Hank, “Do you expect to be a part of this investigation, Mr. Carson?”
“I'm offering my help to fill in any gaps, and I might have insight. Not only do I have a lot of experience, but I saw the body after its discovery. I took photos of the scene with my phone. If you want it, here it is.” He held the phone out to her.
“That's not needed now, but maybe later. So you are not on active duty?”
“I got forced into retirement. If you doubt my experience or qualification, I will step aside and provide my statement. If my credibility is in question, you may call Captain Jacob Meyers, LAPD Robbery-Homicide Division. He will vouch for me. However, if you don't need my help, I have no desire to get in your way.” His visceral attraction to her was causing him to be headstrong.
Alicia smiled, a perfect little smile of brilliant white teeth that stirred Hank.
“I might call him if I need to. But you seem like a straight up guy so why don’t you observe the interrogation team as they interview the train staff and promotion crew? Don’t contact the staff or passengers. No interviews, no questions.”
Flattered, he realized she knew he was not only a resource but an outsider. “Yes, ma'am.” He nodded his assent.
“Stick around. If I have more questions, I want you available.”
“Yes, ma’am, you're in charge,” Hank said, visualizing himself snapping to attention and saluting her.
When she walked away from him, Hank felt like a high school jerk because he was watching her walk, paying particular attention to the way she moved her shapely butt. Slow down, boy, he told himself, jarred out of the complacency he had enjoyed for the past three years.
Standing on the platform, the PA system was so loud it made Hank's ears reverberate. Through the train car windows, he saw and heard Charles make the needed announcements. Again, Alioto had deferred to Beaumont. “Ladies and gentlemen we have an unexpected change of plans. There is a problem on the train, and we will have to use alternate transportation to return to Napa. The passengers and crew will need to exit the train. The local authorities are here to assist by taking us to another location for more information. I apologize for the change in the program, but I assure you, it is necessary. Please gather your personal belongings, leave the train in an orderly fashion, and follow the officers' directions.”
The passengers, surprised by the message, realized their tour was being cut short. Several voiced their unhappiness. A portly man puffed out his chest, trying to display his self-importance and declared, “This is outrageous.”
A woman, dressed in old-fashioned clothing, followed the man's indignation. “I’ve never been treated so rudely.” Similar sentiments rang out from passengers in each of the cars. Despite the rumblings, all the passengers retrieved their belongings and exited with a semblance of order.
Beaumont would have to deal with the fallout. Hank pitied his friend, who was a competent and fair guy. Charles might deal with complaints for weeks. Hank wished the killer had chosen a better time and place to carry out his act.
Under Agent Tomlinson's order, the Sheriff's Deputies assisted with crowd control and transportation to the St. Helena High School gym. The transfer of the female attendees was an issue due to high heels, furs, and expensive jewelry. Dealing with the attendees’ complaining and asking questions was an agonizing issue for the deputies.
> Many other people voiced objections. “How dare they treat law-abiding citizens this way? How dare they treat us like cattle! I can assure you, I will contact the governor about this,” growled one enraged woman. Another blusterer, face crimson with anger, kept repeating, “Do you know who I am?”
Charles went up to the malcontent, held out his hand to shake it, “I know who you are, sir! Do you know who I am?”
The man sputtered, took Charles' hand to shake it, saying. “Yes, you are Charles Beaumont.”
“Correct,” Charles replied. “Do you see me making a scene and looking like a buffoon?”
Scanning the crowd to see if anyone was witnessing his humiliation, he started to answer, but Charles cut him off, “Let us behave like gentlemen, shall we?”
“Agreed.” His mortification complete, he blended into the crowd as Charles continued speaking with the other guests to assure them that the disruption was unavoidable.
Comments and idle threats continued ad nauseam during the rest of the afternoon and into the evening.
Hank feeling relieved he no longer had to deal with people who felt entitled and exempt because of their bank balance. He’d spent too many years as a detective watching the privileged with their attorneys in tow, getting away with anything from minor infractions to hit and runs. This incident had his stomach churning just watching and listening to these assholes.
Hank felt sorry for the agents and deputies having to deal with these arrogant people as part of their jobs.
There were two, eighty-passenger buses. To keep the crew, the staff and the guests separated required one bus to make a second trip.
When the transport was complete the 235 attendees, staff, and coordinators got escorted into the school gymnasium where the agents and deputies divided them into manageable groups. Hank looked around the crowd seated in the gym. A three-ring circus was about to begin.
Beaumont used the gym's PA system to address the group. Agent Tomlinson stood by his side, looking calm and serene. Hank had no doubt she controlled every situation. A friendly demeanor would be the best way to go with this crowd. Nervous, Charles cleared his throat before speaking. “Thank you for being so cooperative. I am sad to say a guest whom many may know, Mr. David Hatchett, died earlier in the day.” A murmur ran through the crowd. “Quiet, please. Agent Alicia Tomlinson from the Bureau of Investigations is here to address your concerns.”
Killer On The Train Page 2
