by Sandra Balzo
‘Or a Resident Beach Parking permit,’ contributed Danny.
Absently, I wondered how he hyperlinked to that connection. And which of the two permits Danny had attempted to get.
The young man stepped past me to take hold of Audra’s non-shooting arm. ‘She’s really upset,’ he told Pavlik. ‘Can we go to the club car, maybe find her something to drink?’
‘As long as she doesn’t expect to get this back anytime soon.’ The sheriff held up the gun and we watched Danny and Audra shuffle/stumble off.
‘Interesting,’ I said under my breath. ‘A variation on the Deathtrap twist, perhaps?’
‘What?’ Pavlik asked.
‘Never mind,’ I said, linking my arm with his. ‘We’ll watch it together some time. What’s next?’
‘Excuse me, Sheriff.’ Carson/Count Andrenyi was standing in front of us.
‘Yes?’
I couldn’t remember if Pavlik knew who the man was. ‘This is Carson, the lit—’
‘Of course,’ the sheriff said. ‘I saw you in the club car earlier. You’re Mr Potter’s and Ms Edmond’s agent.’
But when Pavlik extended his hand, Carson leaped back like a two-legged gazelle.
‘He doesn’t shake,’ I whispered to my lover.
The sheriff lowered his hand. Slowly, I thought, so as not to embarrass Carson any more than the man had himself. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I do understand that you’re interviewing people in order and I should wait my turn.’
‘He’s Count Andrenyi,’ I said to Pavlik. ‘In Christie’s sequence, the second to last.’
The sheriff shrugged. ‘It sounded like a good idea at the time, but I think that moment has passed. Why don’t you follow us?’
I led the way and got Carson a glass of water while Pavlik settled in across from him and opened his notebook. ‘Do you have something you’d like to tell us?’
I tried to hand Carson the water, but he just waved me off, refusing to touch the glass.
I set it down and picked up the smart phone. ‘Do you mind if I video our conversation?’
‘No, I suppose not,’ Carson said. ‘Though I’d appreciate both of you keeping this confidential unless it has a bearing on Larry’s death.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ Pavlik said, ‘but you have to understand that I don’t have jurisdiction here. We’ll need to answer the authorities’ questions when they arrive, just like everyone else on this train will.’
Carson thought about that for a second. ‘Understood.’ He leaned forward. ‘I’m a little concerned about Audra and that young man.’
Pavlik rocked three inches backward. ‘That “young” …?’
‘Danny,’ I interjected. ‘The one who was so interested in your workshops and who just escorted Audra to the club car.’
Mystery 101’s principal forensics speaker shook his head. ‘I’m starting to think you know more people here than I do.’
I shrugged. ‘I get around. You’ve been … monopolized.’
‘And I’m sorry about that,’ Pavlik said. ‘When we get—’
Carson cleared his throat.
‘Sorry.’ Pavlik shook his head again. ‘It’s been a long day. And night.’
‘I understand,’ Carson said. ‘I just want to get this off my chest before I have time to think better of it.’
‘Shoot.’ The sheriff raised his pen. ‘Uh, Danny?’
‘Correct. The young man saw a trade announcement about a novel that Larry and Audra are working on. Danny got it in his head that Larry stole the idea from him and sent me an email outlining his accusations literally chapter and verse.’
So Rosemary, even under the influence, seemed to have been right.
‘How is Potter supposed to have come across this “idea”?’ Pavlik asked.
‘Danny apparently sent him the manuscript originally, hoping to get Larry’s endorsement or perhaps a referral to an agent, like myself, or an editor. Larry says … said that he didn’t even open the package.’
‘Did you believe him?’ Pavlik asked.
‘Of course. He’s my client, after all.’ An embarrassed smile. ‘Or was.’
‘So why has Danny been cozying up to Audra,’ I asked, ‘if he thinks she might have been in on this?’
‘I have no idea. Perhaps he hopes Audra will confide the plot of their new novel, and therefore prove Danny right about the plagiarism.’
Or, I thought, maybe the two already were acquainted and had hatched a plot of their own. One that didn’t include Laurence Potter lasting until the final chapter.
‘So what’s the book about?’ Pavlik was asking.
‘I can’t really tell you that.’
‘Carson, I’m certainly not going to steal Potter’s plot,’ Pavlik said. ‘And even if I considered the possibility, I can’t write.’
‘It’s true,’ I told Carson as we heard the sound of the far vestibule door opening. ‘The sheriff is addicted to redundancy.’
We all looked toward the door, but nobody entered.
Pavlik turned back to Carson. ‘The plot?’
‘The reason I can’t tell you is because, well, there really isn’t much of one.’
I mulled that over. ‘So … Potter couldn’t have stolen it?’
Carson shifted uncomfortably. ‘From what I could tell from Danny’s email, his manuscript doesn’t have much of a plot, either.’
I felt like banging my forehead on the tabletop. Again. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘You’ve read Rosemary Darlington’s most recent book?’
‘No,’ Pavlik said.
‘I haven’t either,’ I said, ‘but I understand it’s very steamy. Erotic. Is that what you’re talking about?’
‘Pretty much.’
‘And that’s what Potter’s new book was to be like as well?’ Sounded to me like Rosemary had more of a case against the recently deceased than Danny did.
‘Everyone’s doing it,’ Carson said, ‘which is part of the problem. Larry and Audra’s had the twist of being written by a man and a woman. The reader sees the scenes from two different viewpoints.’
‘Top and bottom?’ I guessed.
Pavlik stifled a laugh. ‘And what about Danny’s … uh, “plot”?’
‘From a man’s point of view only.’
‘Gay or straight?’ I asked.
Carson cocked his head. ‘You know, I’m not sure. But that might be a great twist for—’
This time Pavlik interrupted. ‘Do you believe that Danny could have killed Potter over any of this?’
Carson shrugged. ‘I wish I knew. These aspiring writers take everything so seriously. They don’t understand that there are only a handful of basic plots with shoulders broad enough to carry the three-to-four hundred pages of a novel, and what we’re all doing is re-imagining – no, more spinning – them. And even if someone did steal a concept, no two writers would come up with the same book.’
A gust of wind rattled the window next to us, making even our stationary train car sway.
Carson stood up. ‘I’ve had my say, and thank you for the opportunity. Do with the information as you will.’
Pavlik stuck out his hand reflexively and then retracted it nearly as so. ‘Thanks very much.’
After Carson left, Pavlik looked at me. ‘Well, what do you make of his story?’
‘Could be true, I suppose. According to Rosemary Darlington, Potter once tried to browbeat her into writing a novel to his specifications, with the further conditions being she’d publish it under her own name and split the proceeds fifty-fifty with him. Rosemary, smart woman, finally told him where to stick his book, but maybe Potter saw a brand-new opportunity when Danny’s material landed on his doorstep. Except this time he had no intention of splitting the money or credit with anyone. Or at least not anyone but his wife.’
Pavlik nodded approvingly. ‘Anything else?’
‘Everybody seems to be writing dirty books.’ I’d slid around to the back
of the booth and was peering out the window.
‘Makes you wonder where they’re getting all their ideas, doesn’t it?’ Pavlik dug in his jacket pocket and produced the matchbook. ‘Here, perhaps?’
‘Here where?’ I had my cheek close to the glass, a hand cupping my eyes in an effort to cut down on the glare of the interior lights so I might see into the natural gloom.
‘You spot something out there?’ Pavlik asked. ‘Maybe a gremlin on the wing?’
‘Twilight Zone, season five, Nightmare at Twenty-Thousand Feet, starring William Shatner,’ I recited, still looking out. ‘And, if you think about it, trains don’t have wings. Though current events have persuaded me that fins mightn’t be a bad idea.’
‘The rain’s coming down hard again?’
‘Not really. In fact, I can see the moon. But there sure is a lot of water out—’
A rumble beneath us sent my face crashing against the glass.
TWENTY-SIX
‘Are you all right, Maggy?’
‘I think so.’ Trying to sit up, I groaned. Apparently when the train shifted, I’d slammed my head and then shunted onto the floor beneath our table.
Pavlik, crouched in the aisle, extended his hand toward wending me out. Once emerged, I saw that the dining car was cockeyed, the side where we had been sitting noticeably about six inches lower than the other.
Engineer Hertel came lurching up, much like his train. ‘Sorry, folks. Seems like all that rain we’ve gotten has undercut even these tracks we’ve just been sitting on. The ballast might be washing away and I’m starting to fear we’re on the ground. Or will be soon.’
He fears we’re on the ground? Ballast? I rubbed my temple where I could feel an unsightly egg already forming. I’d been thinking about airplanes before the crash, but …
I looked around. Nope, definitely a train, not a plane. Nor a submarine. ‘I hate to ask this, but do we need to get to higher ground?’
Hertel scratched his nose. ‘Well now, that wouldn’t be a bad idea. If we had some, I mean. Not much in the way of elevation in these parts, although you might want to stay away from the lowest parts of the train so combined weight don’t go flipping us over.’
My sheriff’s head was swiveling. ‘The club car behind us looks like it’s at more of an angle than even this one. Any idea if the locomotive we’re towing beyond is still on solid ground?’
‘Well, sir,’ Hertel said, hitching his fingers behind his overall straps. ‘You gotta be careful when you’re talking with a railroad man. Being “on the ground” is our way of saying derailment.’
‘Derail …?’ I echoed. ‘Why—’
‘Because a train’s place is on the tracks, you see. Our wheels touch the ground and we’re in real trouble.’
Ahh, now his earlier statement made sense. ‘You said you feared we might be “on the ground.” So you do think the train’s derailed?’
‘Not a clue, pardon my pun around you folks. Like I said, the ballast – that’s the rocks in the train bed – might not be laid down proper. If that’s so, there could be more problems coming.’
More problems?
Pavlik seemed to think about that. ‘Is there anything we can do to head them off? I’m just thinking that if something as heavy as our rear locomotive tipped, it might be putting extra strain on the rest of the cars.’
I thought I saw what he was getting at. ‘You mean like a Slinky, with the locomotive being the first coil starting down the stairs and the rest of us following?’
‘Well, now.’ Hertel pulled on his left earlobe as he considered that. ‘I’d say it depends on how much of the track is washed away. I hate to speculate, you understand, but I’m startin’ to wonder if, when they were running out of money, a few corners mightn’t have been cut.’
‘You mean a few more corners, right?’ I asked. ‘In addition to our not having a conductor?’
‘Aw. Little lady, we don’t need no conductor. All’s they do is boss everybody around. Those FRA guys just want to provide work. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.’
‘FRA – Federal Railroad Administration?’ Pavlik looked at me. ‘I assume you spoke to Zoe or Missy about the train staffing?’
‘Missy,’ I confirmed. ‘Somehow she managed to slide by the authorities – whatever they are for an “off-the-grid” operation like this – with a fictional conductor-backslash-bartender.’
‘Well, now, that’s not fair,’ Hertel protested. ‘Everything is fiction, when you think about it.’
I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the mystery train or whether we were about to take a detour into Hertel’s vision of metaphysics and the meaning of life.
I was inclined to pursue the subject, but Pavlik retook control of the conversation. Probably a good thing, since my mother always said if you’re afraid of the answers, then you shouldn’t be asking the questions.
‘Assuming some of the cars are still … stable,’ Pavlik said, ‘would it make sense for us to uncouple any that might do us damage?’
‘If you was Superman, maybe,’ the engineer said.
‘I take it that’s a no?’ Pavlik kept his tone even.
‘You ever seen two train cars being coupled, Sheriff? They bang ’em one right into the other, like two big ol’ Indian elephants doing the dirty. Sorry, ma’am.’ A wink at me. ‘These huge C-clamps, they hook together. Knuckle, we call it. You can’t undo that with no screwdriver and pair of tweezers, I’m here to tell you. But aren’t you getting ahead of yourselves?’
I looked at Pavlik, a little dazed by this outpouring of train lore. ‘Umm …’
‘Engineer Hertel’s right,’ Pavlik said. ‘We need to know what we’re dealing with and I’d like to leave Boyce here. Are you willing to be heroic again and come out with me to reconnoiter, Maggy?’
‘“Nigh-on” to heroic, I believe was your term,’ I said, smiling. ‘But, of course, I’ll go with you.’
In truth, my head was hurting where I’d bumped it, and the second last thing I wanted to do was to go outside with anyone. The very last thing, though, was to let Pavlik do it alone. ‘Should we check on the passenger car first?’
As I said it, the vestibule door from that direction slid open and Zoe stuck her head in. ‘You OK in here?’
‘We are,’ Pavlik said.
‘Thanks for asking,’ I said, a little snippy. We could have been lying dead on the floor for all they knew, yet it was only now our comrades had thought to check on us?
‘Assuming all is well in the passenger car, Zoe,’ Pavlik said, ‘Maggy and I are going to go out and take a look.’
‘We’re fine.’ Zoe had one of Missy’s shawls around her shoulders and, despite her words, seemed shaken. ‘You go ahead.’
Pavlik was studying her. ‘I should update Boyce first.’
Zoe held up her hand, palm out, and seemed to pull herself together. ‘That’s the least I can do, given everything you’ve already done for us.’
‘We shouldn’t be long.’ Pavlik seemed reluctant to leave. ‘You sure you’re all right?’
‘I am, Jacob.’ Zoe smiled. ‘But thank you.’
Enough of their lovefest. The egg on my temple was throbbing, and I wanted to get our second expedition in the books.
‘I think you’ll be just fine goin’ out that way.’ The engineer had the vestibule door between the dining and club cars open. ‘She seems to be holding steady.’
Yippee. I pulled on Pavlik’s sleeve. ‘The sooner we go, the sooner we’ll be back. You can brief everybody then.’
‘She’s right.’ Zoe was pulling off her shawl. ‘Would you like this, Maggy?’
Even I was getting suspicious. The woman was being too courteous, but, unlike Pavlik, I didn’t give a shit why. ‘Thanks, but I think I’ll be fine.’
‘You might wanna go while it’s clear and you can see by the moon,’ Hertel said, cocking his head toward the windows. ‘Down here, storms come on as fast as they go.’
Pavlik was
watching Zoe as she opened the door and stepped back through the vestibule. ‘We will, but would you mind checking on the passenger car?’
Hertel looked surprised. ‘Me? I thought I’d stand by right here. Make sure you get back safe?’
‘That’s not a bad idea,’ I said to Pavlik. ‘Whatever they’re doing in there, we’ll find out soon enough. Besides, we may need his help.’
Pavlik hesitated, then nodded. ‘You’re right.’
Back in the Flagler Suite, I would have asked the sheriff to repeat that, maybe teased him that he said it so seldom I wanted to hear it again.
But now, I just nudged one of our ‘fingerprint’ glasses out of the aisle with my toe. Another ‘good idea at the time.’ Too bad, but I assumed we’d each be fingerprinted officially when help finally arrived. After all, a man had been killed.
But as the three of us moved into the vestibule of the precariously tilted club car, a murderer amongst us seemed – however irrationally – to be the least of our problems.
TWENTY-SEVEN
‘Careful,’ Hertel called to us as I took the sheriff’s hand and jumped down to join him on the railroad bed. ‘That water’s gotten mighty close in.’
The engineer was right. The good news was that the cant of the club car meant the distance from the exit door to the tracks was reduced. And the moon was bright enough for us to see, at least a ways. The bad news was that it allowed us to see that the tracks were nearly submerged.
‘Hope those are old shoes,’ Pavlik said, looking at my kitten-heel sandals.
‘They are now, or at least they have been since our last foray out here.’ I held up one foot. ‘I think the cork platforms are coming unglued.’
‘They’re not the only thing here coming unglued.’ The sheriff started to slosh east alongside the tracks. ‘Did you notice Zoe was acting oddly?’
‘Must be the stress,’ I said, following him. Or maybe I’d scared her half to death with my talk of murderers everywhere. But it was true. Someone had killed Potter and right now it could be almost anybody, including Zoe herself.
