BUCKAROO WAFFLE MURDER

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  If something else didn’t come up soon, Robert would more than likely be arrested upon arrival at the station. Unless someone else had stolen a key to get that bullet, there was simply no one else who could have done it.

  Frank groaned, growing more and more frustrated with the situation. “And who had access to the gun itself after we got on board?”

  “Everyone,” Robert snipped, letting his sadness from earlier melt into a twisted grimace upon his lips. His eyes shot accusatory daggers at each of the other staff members.

  “Fine, I’m sure the police will want a complete list of all employees on board, your shifts, your duties, everything. Do we have access to that kind of information?” he looked at Jake, seeing as he had been the most reliable source of help since the death.

  However, none of the staff members had a chance to answer before the train jolted again, indicating they were slowing down.

  “We must be coming up to the station,” a red headed reporter noted, leaning toward the window to look out. She still had her notepad clutched in one hand, and Sonja noticed a mini tape recorder in one pocket.

  She was clearly collecting as much of these conversations as possible.

  Robert, too, peered out a window—but he was shaking his head. “N-no, no. That’s not possible. We’re nowhere near the station yet. We haven’t been reversing for long enough.”

  “He’s right,” Jake interjected, getting as close to the glass as possible to look out.

  “Then what’s happening?” Frank asked, his lips tightening with impatience.

  “We’re still out a ways in the canyon. We shouldn’t be getting back for another ten to fifteen minutes at the least.”

  “Then why are we stopping?” Frank snapped, holding his hands out in desperation.

  “I’ll go and talk to the driver,” the conductor replied, rushing for the door.

  Frank was shaking his head in bewilderment. “This is absolutely ludicrous.” He looked around the room at all the faces, looking for someone to blame. His vision landed on Sonja and she could read him like a neon sign.

  He had finally thought of the ghost again.

  Not wanting to end up in an argument about the supernatural with her fiancé, she headed for the door after Jake and stepped onto the small outdoor walkway. The chill of the winter air instantly stung her face, but what she saw just beyond the caboose at the far end of the train was far more breathtaking.

  Towering in behind them, lodged in between the canyon walls, was a barricade of snow—clearly the results of an avalanche that now completely blocked the tracks.

  Puttering about at the foot of the snowy expanse was the prospector.

  He looked up at Sonja with a wicked smile.

  CHAPTER 8

  * * *

  It was amazing to watch the overall mood of the group go from relatively calm and somber to irritated and angry all at once.

  “Are you saying we're stuck out here?” one woman demanded.

  “This is ridiculous,” a man insisted.

  Sonja knew that most of them were probably upset because they had a big story to get back to their offices, but there was no helping it now. “I don’t know what you’re all complaining about. If anything, you should all be darn glad that the avalanche didn’t come down on the train itself while we were pulling through,” Sonja pointed out, not thrilled with having to listen to all of them.

  She was already dealing with Frank’s sour mood as well as the reality that a ghost might have caused the avalanche. And while she was feeling the acute claustrophobia just like the rest of them, she was refusing to let it get to her.

  “Now, everyone please just calm down,” Frank said, holding up both hands for everyone to be quiet.

  “How can we calm down when we’ve basically been snowed in with a murderer? We all heard your conversation earlier. Someone deliberately killed that man,” one older woman with dyed red hair argued.

  “I think the Sheriff is right,” Jake added, coming to Frank’s defense. “We aren’t trapped here, we just can’t go backward at this moment.”

  Sonja found it a little odd that Jake was helping to take control of the situation when Robert was technically the one who should be in charge. On the other hand, she could hardly blame him. He’d just killed someone, after all.

  “That’s right. I’ve talked to the driver myself and we’re just going to continue our normal course like originally planned. We’ll arrive tomorrow afternoon back at the station taking the loop.”

  “And we’re just supposed to be okay staying here on the train with a dead body and the killer?” the woman reiterated.

  Sighing, Frank shook his head. “I don’t much like it either, believe me. However, we don’t have much of a choice right now.”

  “Well, you’re a sheriff. Do something about it,” she demanded.

  The turn of events, triggered by the blocked off pass, was shocking to Sonja. These people had seemed so calm only minutes earlier. Now, it seemed, the sense of being closed in was a source of anger—never mind the added stress of a murderer on board.

  “Everyone, I think it’s best that you all just head to your sleeping compartments for the time being. It doesn’t look like we’re going to be getting off this train anytime soon. I’ll be working with the employees on board to make sure you all have food and other necessary accommodations until we can reach the station and hand this whole thing over to the proper authorities.”

  There were a few residual grumbles, but overall, everyone agreed with Frank’s plan. It helped that he was a sheriff in another town with significant experience in homicide investigations.

  “As we mentioned earlier, all your names will be labeled next to your compartments,” Jake reminded them, motioning for them to file out.

  As the guests all moved toward the sleeping car, Sonja hung behind a little to see if there was anything she could do to help. If nothing else, she wanted to wait and hear if Frank said anything else, or asked any questions, to Jake and Robert. Frank was watching the movement and his eyes met Sonja’s. She knew she’d been caught.

  “You too, Sonja,” he instructed, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  “You sure you don’t want me to hang around?”

  “Positive. Besides, if you’re trying to eavesdrop on some homicide investigating, you’ll be disappointed,” he noted, somewhat teasingly calling her out. It was clear he was trying to keep a positive attitude despite the circumstances.

  “You’re right,” she admitted, turning to head into the sleeping car.

  “I’ll come in and see you in a few minutes.” His voice lowered to an almost inaudible whisper. “We can discuss our unwanted boarder then.” The glint in his eye indicated that he was less than happy about the ghost and even suspected the spirit’s involvement.

  Sighing unhappily about the prospect of having to have another supernatural discussion with her biased and fearful fiancé, she disappeared outside and into the next car. Guests were filing into the cramped rooms.

  Scanning the name tags tacked onto the wooden doors of each room, she finally found her’s smack dab in the middle. Opening the door, she moved into the tiny space. There was a small washbasin attached to an indentation in one wall with a foggy mirror above it. On the other side was a very short and very skinny bed. Her bag lay there on its side, her toothbrush falling out of one of the pockets.

  “Some service,” she complained, picking it up.

  Taking another look at the length of the bed, she sighed. She’d have to sleep with her knees up at an angle to even fit in it. There would be no stretching out as on newer trains.

  A window looked out into the snowy landscape as it passed by. The train was on the move again and heading in its original direction.

  The final touch on the private compartment was a curved wooden door which presumably led into a closet. Why hadn’t they put her bag in there instead of dumping it on the bed?

  Reaching for the handle, she paused when she h
eard a distinct shuffle from inside. Pushing her eyebrows together, she wondered if the noise could be coming from one of her neighbors. The wooden walls weren’t exactly Fort Knox thick.

  Shrugging and deciding that it had to be someone next door, she grabbed the door handle. Pulling on the latch and swinging it open, she screamed as a man’s body tumbled out, knocking her backward onto the bed and pinning her there.

  CHAPTER 9

  * * *

  Pushing at the heavy weight on top of her, she continued to scream. The simple fact that there had been someone inside the compartment with her—and it wasn’t a ghost—freaked her out. Him being on top of her only made matters worse.

  “Sonja? Sonja, where are you?” Frank shouted from the hallway outside the door.

  A second later the door burst open, hitting the body in the legs.

  “Oof,” the man cried.

  Both Frank and Sonja froze cold, looking at the crumpled figure.

  This person wasn’t dead at all. He was very much alive.

  “I-I’m so sorry, Miss. I didn’t mean to fall on you,” the blonde-haired man apologized, using the basin to lift himself up.

  Sonja sat back on the bed with a slack-jawed expression. Not only had this assailant been hiding in her cabin—in the closet no less—but he seemed so nonchalant about the whole situation, apologizing like he’d simply bumped into her on the street on accident.

  Not being fazed at all, Frank didn’t hesitate to grab onto him with a firm grip that only a trained police officer could muster.

  “Ooow, hey. What’s the idea, here?” he argued as the sheriff twisted his right arm behind his back.

  Still laying in a sprawled position on the bed, Sonja looked up at the man. “Nathan Potter?” she asked, recognizing him for the first time. She’d only seen him for a brief moment at the station that morning, but she rarely forgot a face.

  Frank twisted the man around and looked him directly in the eyes. His jaw dropped. “Nathan. It is you,” he exclaimed.

  “H-Hi, Frank. Long time no see.”

  “What in heaven’s name are you doing on this train?” he demanded.

  “And in my compartment?” Sonja snapped, not too happy with having just been scared witless for no good reason. “I thought you were another dead body.”

  “Or the killer, even,” Frank added, his eyes darting from Sonja and back to the short man.

  Nathan’s face twisted with confusion. “Body? Killer? What the heck are you guys talking about?”

  “What is all this?” Jake chimed in, appearing over Frank’s shoulder.

  “It’s Nathan, Vaughn’s brother.”

  “Nathan?” Jake gasped, squeezing into the tiny compartment—much too full already—for a look at the man. “What in the devil are you doing on the train? Robert told me that Vaughn left you behind at the station in his private apartment.”

  Nathan’s cheeks reddened slightly as he gave a sheepish shrug. “I-I don’t know. That old building always gave me the creeps, like it was haunted or something. I didn’t much like the idea of being left alone there overnight.”

  At the mention of the word haunted, Frank turned a knowing eye on Sonja.

  Averting her gaze from his, she looked out the window toward the snowy slopes, half expecting to see the eerie prospector climbing about the ice and rocks.

  “You were afraid to stay at the museum?” Jake asked, a skeptical wrinkle appearing on his brow.

  “Come on, Jake. You know me almost as well as Vaughn or Robert. I’m a scaredy cat.”

  “Not too scared to hide in some poor woman’s closet and frighten her half to death,” he scolded him like a father to a child. Sonja got the impression that, even though Jake was just an actor and employee, he was somehow like the patriarch of the whole crew.

  “He’s right, Nathan. Why didn’t you just ask to come along for the ride?” Frank pressed.

  “He told me no. He said some nonsense about me being in the way.”

  “In that regard, I’d have to agree. We didn’t have any open slots among the guests and you don’t know any of the protocols or routines for the employees,” Jake pointed out. “You should have just stayed put.”

  “Hey, don’t tell me what to do. Vaughn is my bother. He owns the place.”

  “And he told you to stay put,” Frank cut in.

  It was clear that Nathan had no idea he’d just implicated himself in a murder case of his own brother.

  “Okay, okay. You’re right. I should have stayed put. I’m here now, though, so what does it matter.”

  Frank’s expression tightened. What did it matter? It mattered because there was a murderer on board and someone hiding out on the train in a closet didn’t look very good in respect to motive and alibi.

  Nathan himself seemed to pick up on this cue, returning to an earlier comment. “Now, hold on folks, what was this you said about dead bodies and killers? Is this part of some sort of mystery train thing? I’ve heard of stuff like that.”

  Jake and Frank turned toward him, their eyelids dropping with realization. Someone was going to have to tell him that his brother was dead.

  Would he care? Sonja had to wonder, what with the little bit of history she’d learned about the family. If Nathan truly had run off and not seen his own brother for the last couple of years, would he really be disheartened that he was gone? Or, if he had only shown up again to ask for money, would he be pleased to possibly inherit something?

  Would he be able to inherit his brother’s money and possessions? If so, was that motive enough for murder?

  If nothing else, Nathan’s presence only added more complexity to an already tense murder investigation.

  “Come on into the museum car. I think you’ll want to be sitting down when you hear this,” Jake said, waving the lost brother to follow him.

  “Mind letting me go? I promise not to run off into the frozen wilderness,” Nathan said to the sheriff.

  A minor twitch on his upper lipped showed his distrust for the man, but Frank ultimately let him go. “Into the next car,” he ordered. Stepping out of the compartment, Frank turned back and looked at Sonja. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been through worse.”

  “As soon as I’m done with Nathan, I’ll come back. I want to have a little chat with you.”

  When he mentioned having a chat, Sonja knew exactly what he meant.

  Frank wanted to talk about ghosts.

  CHAPTER 10

  * * *

  Sonja took a moment to freshen up in the car. Despite the train being a “classic western experience” as described in the brochure, she was glad they hadn’t taken away her toiletries and make-up. A touch of color on her cheeks and a bit of mascara really helped to brighten her appearance after the trying morning she’d had.

  The only major downside was that she was starving. Those Buckaroo Waffles had looked so delectable, and she was downright interested in seeing how that coffee syrup tasted. It could potentially be a heavenly topping to an already perfect waffle, or it could be a gritty and bitter mess if cooked up in just the wrong way.

  Now, however, she couldn’t care less how it tasted and more about whether it filled her belly.

  A lightbulb turned on in her mind and she dug into her purse, remembering a granola bar being there. Shuffling around among the items inside, she finally retrieved the crinkling package. She smiled happily at the label. A picture of a man climbing an icy mountain made up most of the wrapping. The flavor was ginger and spice, a holiday special.

  Ripping the foil back, she took a big bite, savoring the taste as her mind returned to the matter at hand—the murder.

  Things were more complicated than ever now that Nathan was on board. At first, she could only assume that Robert had lost his sense of reason and shot his friend. However, that answer was just too simplistic and straightforward. While Robert did seem a tad unstable, what could he benefit from killing his business partner in front of a room of people?

/>   That could only mean that someone else on board the train had loaded the gun with a real bullet when no one was looking. The problem was, who stood to gain from his death? Did one of the reporters or columnists have a personal issue with the museum owner?

  That seemed unlikely.

  What about the employees? Surely there was always some tension between boss and worker on occasion, but was there someone who butted heads enough to resort to murder? What could they gain from such an action?

  The bigger issue in her mind was, why had Nathan snuck on the train in the first place? He claimed it was because he didn’t want to get left alone at the museum, which he seemed to believe was haunted. In some ways, Sonja couldn’t blame him.

  However, she couldn’t help but think this was just an excuse to cover up the real reason to be on the train. What other reason could he have for hiding in a closet for nearly three hours?

  She was at a loss.

  Then, of course, there was the ghost. What possible connection could that old prospector have with the place?

  A quiet knock came on the door and Sonja stood up to answer it. “Hey, Frank. How did Nathan take the news?”

  Pressing in and sitting on the bed, Frank clasped his hands and sighed. “Not well. He completely broke down.”

  A small part of Sonja secretly wished that she could have been there to see his reaction and try to decipher if it was sincere or not.

  “Jake is staying with him at the moment.”

  “That’s good,” she agreed, taking a seat on the bunk next to him. They were both quiet for a moment, taking in everything that had happened and what they should do next. “So, I assume you want to talk about the ghost,” Sonja finally cut into the silence, wanting to get to the point.

  It was always uncomfortable when she had to talk about the supernatural world, and her ability to sense it, with Frank. He was just so uncomfortable with the whole thing still, even after having known about it over a year.