Murder on the Sugarland Express

by Angie Fox

  “No,” I said, “she’s really gone.”

  He blinked a couple of times. Hard. “How do you know?”

  Because I was the one who’d found her. But this was tough enough without me telling him that.

  I clasped my hands together in my lap. “My boyfriend is a police officer. He’s with the body right now.”

  “Sucks to be him,” he said, clearing his throat, avoiding my eyes so he could fiddle with his coffee cup. “Good thing I didn’t know her that well.”

  Just looking at him, I could tell that wasn’t true.

  “How did you know her?” I asked, truly interested.

  He glanced back toward the table where the Abels sat, as if he would catch them eavesdropping. “Stephanie did some business with me. It’s over now. Obviously.”

  “The thing is, I was never quite sure what Stephanie did for a living,” I began. She hadn’t talked about it at dinner, and that was really all the time I’d had.

  His lips twisted into a wry grin. “Market development,” he said, with false sincerity. Lord, when he said it like that, he truly did look like one of Frankie’s mobster friends.

  “And you just happen to be on the maiden voyage of the Sugarland Express. With her,” I added, saying it plain.

  He held up a finger. “Not with her.” The not anymore was implied. Before I could say anything more, he threw his napkin onto the table. “I gotta go.”

  “Wait,” I said, standing with him.

  “When you get tired of your cop, you know where to find me,” he said, spearing me with a saucy, parting leer that glanced right off. He didn’t have the energy for it, and I didn’t have the time.

  He walked past me, not looking back, heading to the passenger cars.

  I watched him go. He’d seemed genuinely surprised when I’d told him about Stephanie’s death. Before that, he’d spoken about her in the present tense, as if she were still alive.

  He could be faking. A practiced killer would know to do these things, and I could say with a fair amount of confidence that Ron wasn’t the nicest guy. He certainly didn’t respect women.

  But a jerk and a killer were two different animals entirely.

  Unless he was a murdering jerk.

  As I pondered my encounter with Ron, I began catching snippets of conversation from the Abels still ensconced at their table near the back of the car.

  “Well, you shouldn’t wander a dark train, even if you do have insomnia,” Mary Jo scolded.

  “I’ll walk wherever I damned well please,” Dave countered.

  It was none of my business. And I wasn’t the sort to pry, but this was literally a case of life and death.

  Heavens. When had I gotten so dramatic?

  I picked up my coffee cup—no sense letting it go to waste—and waved as I approached, giving them plenty of time to regain their composure. It would be rude to barge in on their conversation. Even if I was extremely interested in what Mary Jo had just revealed.

  “Good morning,” I said, glad when she motioned for me to sit.

  “Is it good, dear?” she asked, clutching her cup. “Have you heard?”

  I cringed as I scooted my chair in. “I was passing in the hall when her boyfriend opened the door and found her,” I said. Mary Jo appeared as horrified as I’d felt. “It was awful.”

  “Poor thing,” Mary Jo clucked. “Let’s get you some breakfast,” she said, waving over the waiter.

  “I’m not hungry,” I said.

  She waved the waiter away. “I hope our son wasn’t rude,” Mary Jo clucked.

  “Your son?” I asked, glancing back at the table I’d shared with Ron. “I hadn’t realized you were traveling with anybody else.”

  “He’s not talking to us,” Dave said curtly. “A family issue.”

  “You’re both so stubborn. Maybe I should go and try to talk to him again,” she said, starting to rise.

  “Mary Jo,” Dave cautioned, touching her on the arm, “let him be.”

  “I hear he dated Stephanie,” I said, fishing for information. And, truly, I think it had been said, if only by me.

  “She had her hooks in him briefly,” Mary Jo stated plainly. She waved a hand. “Oh, what am I saying? That poor dead girl.” She closed her eyes and shook her head, her dangling sea-glass earrings swaying. “It isn’t the same world I grew up in.”

  “It’s not the world, it’s this damned train.” Dave clutched the handle of his cup. I could tell he hadn’t slept well. He had dark circles under his eyes and appeared brittle in a way he hadn’t before. “I said it last night. This trip is a disaster and it’s only getting worse.” He took a big gulp. “God, I hate decaf.”

  “You should at least try to get some rest,” Mary Jo urged him.

  “Maybe.” He pushed his cup away.

  “Go. I’ll be fine,” she said, patting him on the arm.

  He closed a hand over hers for a moment, then rose from the table, a bit more at ease after her reassurance. “You two girls be careful,” he warned, as if he were leaving us in a bad neighborhood after dark.

  “He’s really worried, isn’t he?” I asked, a moment after he left.

  Mary Jo watched him go, concern etched on her forehead. “He feels trapped, which has never happened on a rail trip before. And I tell you, we’ve taken plenty.”

  “We have gotten off to a rough start,” I admitted.

  “Dave likes being in touch, and when that Wi-Fi system went down—” she glanced around to make sure we were alone “—it was worse than you think.”

  “How so?” I asked, leaning my elbows on the table.

  She did the same. “They touted this route as being historic, and it is. But it also means we’re cut off from the main commercial routes. We’re isolated. Dave liked the idea at first, and so did I. But it can’t be a coincidence that the communications system was sabotaged shortly after we entered an area where that system was our only way to reach the outside world.”

  “We have to switch tracks right now,” I said. Surely even Virginia would see the need to change course.

  “Rail routes are carefully planned and assigned,” Mary Jo said. “We can’t just switch. Another train might be on that track and we’d have no way to even let them know we’re coming.”

  “Shoot. I hadn’t thought of that,” I said, starting to get a bit claustrophobic myself.

  “The route wasn’t designed to stop at any towns along the way. The ride is the entertainment. Or at least it was…” she trailed off, worried. “We have hundreds of miles to go, in isolated hills and forests, until we reach the next stop.” She pressed her hands together in front of her. “It’s spooky. We’ve been having trouble settling in, and Dave didn’t sleep hardly at all last night.”

  “I heard you talking about his late-night walk,” I confessed. “Did he see anyone else out?”

  “I asked him the same thing,” Mary Jo said, fiddling with her rings. “He says he didn’t see anybody.” She paused. “But I did.”

  “Last night?” I asked. They were in the first passenger compartment, just past the lounge car.

  “Early this morning.” She clutched her hands together. “It’s going to sound strange.”

  “Try me,” I urged.

  “Well,” she said, “I was worried about Dave. It was half-past two in the morning and he’d been walking for a while. I thought I’d go after him and see if I couldn’t bring him back to bed.” She fidgeted with her earring. “We’re good together because when he gets worked up, I help him calm down. I teach him how to smell the roses, but he knows where the park is at,” she joked, as if she’d said it a million times. “Anyway, I opened the door and I saw her.”

  “Stephanie?” I gasped.

  “No.” She appeared uncomfortable. “I saw a ghost in a kimono drifting down the hallway. I swear to St. Peter.”

  “I believe you,” I told her.

  “I slammed the door, turned on every light, and said about a hundred prayers to Jesus.” S
he touched her fingers to her temples and let out a short laugh. “It feels good just saying it out loud.”

  “I understand completely.” In ways she couldn’t imagine. “My house back home is haunted. I have a gangster living with me.”

  Her jaw dropped open. “Then you’re one of the few people who wouldn’t think I’m half-baked,” she said with obvious relief. “Anyway, I left poor Dave out there to fend for himself.” She placed a hand on her chest, as if shocked by her own action. “Course when he got back a half hour later, I said he couldn’t go out again. Not with a ghost floating around.” Her gloom returned. “Little did I know he’d be out there with a killer.”

  “We’ll figure this out,” I promised.

  Mary Jo grew serious. “There’s only one thing to do. We have to get off this train.”

  I was all for that. “You said it yourself. It’s not safe out there.”

  She winced. “It’s not safe in here, either. I’m not a fighter like Dave. I don’t look for every problem ten steps ahead. But even I can see we’re trapped here by design.” She took my hands in her cold ones. “We’re on this train with a killer, and whoever it is, he wants it that way.”

  Chapter 15

  It hadn’t occurred to me that someone might have trapped us here on purpose. If that were truly the case, then the killings might not be over.

  But why would anybody do that? This wasn’t some Agatha Christie novel. This was real life. My life.

  “Will you walk me back to my room?” Mary Jo asked, pushing up from the table. “I’d like to lie down for a little while.” She paused and touched my arm. “Not that I think I’ll be murdered en route, mind you. But at least this way, I won’t hear about it from Dave.”

  “Sure.” I stood and offered her an arm. “I’m glad you feel safe with me.”

  She smiled at the gesture and linked her arm with mine. “Now let’s keep an eye out for killers behind the curtains,” she said, eyeing the floor-length cream drapes.

  “Not to mention criminals lurking behind potted palms.”

  That one was real.

  The Abels occupied the very first compartment in the lead passenger car. I dropped Mary Jo off in a suite twice the size of our modest room, with a seating area and a real bed.

  Dave stood by the window, watching the train rush through the mountain forest, while the skinny porter arranged a vase of roses on a nearby dining table for two.

  “Good. You’re back.” Dave noticed me. “And you were smart,” he said to his wife.

  “I’m always careful, dear.” Mary Jo dropped her sweater on the chair. “Now sit before you pace a groove in the carpet and eat all the chocolates.”

  “I wasn’t pacing,” he bristled.

  Maybe not, but I did notice a half-eaten box of Irish cream truffles on the coffee table. Paper wrappers littered the polished surface like casualties of war.

  “Will that be all?” the porter asked.

  “Yes.” Dave waved him away without a tip.

  Okay, so you didn’t have to tip porters.

  “Would you like to stay for a while?” Mary Jo asked. “We can play some cards to take our minds off things.”

  That was the trick. I didn’t want to forget our problems. I wanted to fix them.

  “Normally, I’d love to,” I said, “but considering the circumstances, I think I need to find Ellis.”

  “Be careful,” Dave warned as I left the cabin alone.

  I noticed he didn’t offer to go with me. For once, I was glad to see a slip in traditional propriety. What I had in mind, I’d rather do alone.

  While I was anxious to find Ellis and hear the latest on his investigation, I was more eager to locate Virginia and determine just how trapped we were on this train.

  Ellis would certainly shoo her away from the murder scene, which meant—knowing Virginia—she’d be holed up at the front, trying to manage a trip that had clearly gone off the rails.

  I passed through the lounge and dining cars, places meant for gathering and relaxing. The lack of patrons was eerie. Word had definitely spread.

  I moved farther up the train and pushed open the door to the observation car. There, I found the newlyweds gathered in close conversation with the fiftieth-anniversary couple. From their dire expressions, I could tell they weren’t trading happy marriage secrets.

  Long benches lined the center of the car in rows, with an aisle up each side. The couples gathered on a bench at the front. Large windows ran up the sides and over the roof, offering a spectacular view of the stark wilderness. No one noticed.

  “Hi,” I said, drawing near.

  The young woman on the end lifted her head, revealing a simple diamond stud in her nose. A tattoo of a dragonfly crested her shoulder. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

  “Other than the…incident this morning,” I hedged. All eyes turned to me. “I’m sorry,” I said. “We have a police officer on board who is working on it. I’m trying to learn more. Were any of you out and about last night?”

  The petite girl blushed and shared a glance with her handsome new husband. “We were very much in.”

  “Us too,” the older man said, without a hint of guile. “We go to bed early.”

  “Oh, I hear you,” I said, to both points of view. “Verity Long, by the way,” I added, offering the girl my hand.

  She didn’t seem like she knew what to do with it. “Madison Lemon,” she said, giving a small wave.

  “Xander,” her husband said, taking my hand.

  “Bruce and Barbara Danvers,” the older man said, shaking my hand next.

  I couldn’t reach his wife. She was smaller than Madison and dwarfed behind her large husband. “So good to meet you,” I said, giving my own little wave. “I’m hoping to learn more about what happened yesterday and this morning. My boyfriend is the police officer working on the case.” That earned a few murmurs of appreciation, especially from the older couple. “I’m no detective,” I admitted. I was just a girl who liked to help. “But I do have a question that I hope at least one of you can answer.”

  “Sit.” Barbara motioned to me, her charm bracelet clinking.

  I eased past the group and took the spot next to her. “Thanks,” I said, enjoying her lilac perfume. “At dinner last night, when the train stopped, did you see anyone leave the dining car before or shortly after they passed out the drinks?”

  I received four blank stares.

  Madison raised her hand. “The Abels were looking for that reporter. She was sitting with them and then she was gone. She left her camera on the table.”

  “Did one of the Abels go after her?” I asked. That would have been the time Eileen was at the back of the train, calling her editor. If she was telling the truth.

  “Not right away,” Madison said, her husband nodding as she spoke. “People were scared and sticking together.”

  True.

  “Mary Jo talked to us too,” the older man said. “She said that if we saw that red-haired woman, to let her know that she was keeping her camera safe.”

  “They were so nice during the champagne toast,” his wife cooed.

  Yes, they were very nice. And they might have been sitting with a killer.

  “Did you see anything else?” I asked.

  “I don’t recall.” Bruce appeared tired as he took his wife’s hand. “This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation.”

  Didn’t I know it?

  Barbara turned to me. “The Lemons sat with us afterward, and we learned Madison here works with our granddaughter.”

  “We’re both maternity nurses up in Franklin,” the newlywed added.

  “That’s great,” I said, glad for them. These train trips should be all about meeting other interesting couples. I wished Ellis and I had more time to do it. “If you think of anything, let me know,” I said, grabbing a pen from my purse. I wrote my name and compartment number on a napkin for each couple. I added my phone number along the bottom as well on the off chance
we entered a service area. “Any time of the day or night.”

  I left them to their socializing and pressed forward. I’d have to ask Mary Jo exactly when she returned the camera to our intrepid reporter, and if she knew what Eileen might be investigating on the train.

  In the meantime, I couldn’t find Virginia in the library car or the small office beyond.

  I slid open the door to the old radio room, and what I saw inside surprised me. It was the ghostly conductor I’d met at the hotel. He stood in front of a card table full of broken components and pieces of plastic that he couldn’t touch or understand.

  “No one is fixing this,” he said, his hands moving helplessly through the mess. “We need this to work.”

  “I’m afraid it’s a lost cause,” I said, stepping inside, sliding the door closed behind me. “These are delicate instruments, and they’ve been smashed to bits. Even if we could put them together, they wouldn’t work.”

  “We’re running blind,” he said, “same as we did when I was in charge.”

  That was right. The radio had been disabled on the original trip.

  I faced him across the table full of broken parts. “There was also a murder last night,” I said gently.

  His face grew even paler. “The girl in compartment 9.”

  “From your side, and from mine.”

  He closed his eyes. “I tried to stop it. I did.”

  “I know. I wish I’d listened,” I said, although I still couldn’t imagine what I should have done. “I never dreamed it would turn out like this.”

  He nodded, his gaze hollow. “We’ll run blind until we get to the bridge over the Holston River tomorrow. It’s faulty. It’ll give. We’ll plunge to our deaths below.”

  Not this time, at least not in real life. I refused to believe that could happen to our train. At least I sincerely hoped it wouldn’t.

  The ghosts were another matter. But with any luck, we’d free them before their train crashed.

  “We’re working on solving both cases,” I promised. We might even have a witness to the 1929 murder. “One of the passengers said she saw the ghost of a woman in a kimono. Do you know who she’s talking about?”