by Angie Fox
He gave a small smile. “The Green Lady. She was a passenger on our last journey. She likes to wander and is fond of the library, but she only comes out late at night.”
“I think I’ll wait up for her, then,” I said, formulating a plan.
Heels clicked down the hallway outside.
“Ellis,” Virginia’s voice rang out, clearly taken aback.
I opened the door and stepped directly into their chance encounter.
“I was just looking for you, Mother,” he said. “And you as well,” he added to me.
“I have a cause of death, but it’s not what we thought,” he added quietly. “Mind if we duck in here?” He nodded toward the radio room.
“Let’s go somewhere else,” I said quickly. The conductor didn’t need to be listening to the gory details. He was upset enough.
“In my office,” Virginia said crisply. She led us a short distance past the crew car to a hole-in-the-wall alcove with a desk at the very front of the library car. I was almost surprised we all fit. I leaned against the precisely organized desktop.
“Stephanie Marconi was stabbed in the back and bled out,” Ellis stated. “The killer used a knife from the galley. The chef confirmed it this afternoon.”
“Heavens,” I whispered. Anyone could have taken that knife.
Ellis glanced from me to his mother. “The body is also showing clear signs of pre-mortem strangulation.”
“I don’t get it,” Virginia said. “Why do both?” she added, as if it were a time-saving question.
Ellis crossed his arms over his chest. “Noise travels on this train. My guess is that the killer snuck up and had his hands around her windpipe before she could make a sound.” He turned to me. “When she was sufficiently subdued, the killer ended it with the knife.”
“So the killer got the jump on her, which means he had a key,” I said.
“Not necessarily,” Ellis cautioned.
Virginia stood rigid. “Compartment doors lock when a passenger leaves. Either the killer had a key, or Stephanie knew the person.”
“Unless Beau didn’t close the door all the way when he left for the bar,” I suggested. I hated to bring it up, but my ex wasn’t the most thorough person. “Ellis is right. All we know is that the killer closed the door tightly behind him.”
Virginia shot me a look that could boil water. “It wasn’t Beau.”
“It wasn’t,” Ellis said, more relieved than put out. “He had the good sense to spend from eleven in the evening until six in the morning drinking in the lounge car. One of the waiters stayed up to serve him. He even talked one of the off-duty porters into drinking with him. Mom, you really need to establish bar hours on this train.”
“I didn’t think anyone would stay up all night,” she snapped. “But I’m certainly glad it happened this time,” she murmured to herself.
“The porter didn’t happen to be the young, extremely skinny guy, did he?” I asked.
Ellis appeared startled. “Yes. Why?”
“I’m keeping my eye on him,” I said.
Virginia drew back. “Is he offering subpar service?”
“It’s not that,” I said. “He’s just always…there.”
“He’s a porter,” Virginia said, as if I were daft. “That’s his job.”
“True,” I admitted. Okay, so he was in the clear. “We also know the engineer didn’t do it because he was driving the train.”
“We need to get this train stopped soon,” Ellis said. “I’ve processed the scene, but we need to contact the local authorities and get a team in there.”
“All right.” Virginia nodded. “We arrive in Gatlinburg tomorrow.”
Ellis barked out a laugh. “That’s not good enough.”
“Well, it’s the best I can do,” she shot back. She paced the tiny room. “We’re not cleared to leave our route. We can’t call for help, and I can’t make the Gatlinburg station any closer than it is, which is at least one day away!”
I braced my hands behind me on the desk. “Virginia, we have a killer on board, not to mention a body.”
“And how does that fix my comms system?” she snapped.
“Calm down,” Ellis said, stepping between us. “We at least need to put the body in cold storage and tell the passengers what’s happening.”
Virginia glared at him. “Absolutely not. You’d cause a panic.”
“Most already know they’re on board with a killer,” I told her. I didn’t mention that a few of them had heard it directly from me.
They had a right to know.
Ellis rubbed a hand over his face. “I just wish we had more facts. We have a sabotaged train, a murdered girl, and the killer potentially still on board. I’m not sure that calling the passengers together in a large group is a good idea, but you need to visit each of them individually and explain the situation.”
Virginia pursed her lips. “I don’t like that.”
Of course not, it would mean admitting her latest project wasn’t perfect. It would mean addressing their fears and concerns. A woman like her was more comfortable creating chaos than calming it.
“Let me explain,” Ellis began.
“It’s okay not to have all the answers,” I assured her.
“Speak for yourself,” she snapped.
Ellis cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m more worried about either one of you being alone with a killer,” he said. “Both of you, please, be on your guard.”
Shoot. I hadn’t even thought of that. At least I’d only been alone with the Abels. Oh, and Eileen Powers. I’d be more careful in the future.
Ellis planted his hands in his pockets. “What I was going to say is that I need to question the passengers individually anyway. Mother, you can go with me. Your assurances will help put them at ease, and I’ll be watching for their reactions when you talk to them about the killer on board.”
Virginia ran her hand over her face. “This is a nightmare.” She looked almost ready to cry. I’d never seen her this way.
“It is,” Ellis agreed, “and we’ll get through it.”
“Fine.” She held up a hand. “I’ll talk to the passengers. But in the meantime, I need both of you on task. Figure out what’s happening on my train.”
“You want me as well?” I asked, genuinely surprised.
She raised her chin. “I don’t always approve of your methods,” she said to me, “or your job choices,” she added to Ellis, “but, yes, I’m counting on both of you.”
“All right,” I said.
Ellis gave a sharp nod. “Let’s do it.”
Chapter 16
So we had a plan. Ellis would continue to question the living, and I’d take care of the dead. I headed back to find Frankie and instead ran into Beau drinking a vodka and Red Bull at the bar and keeping company with the server behind the counter.
Goodness. “How are you doing?” I asked. He looked miserable, disheveled, and he still wore yesterday’s clothes.
“Verity.” He said it like an accusation. “Your boyfriend won’t tell me what happened to Stephanie. Will you?”
Beau certainly wasn’t in any condition to hear the details.
“I’m sure he’ll let you know when there is something he can report,” I said, forgiving his brusque manner. He was obviously hurting. I left out the part about Ellis wanting to call in the police in Gatlinburg, and about putting his girlfriend’s body on ice. “These things take time. We’re lucky to have him on board.”
He rolled his eyes and went back to his drink.
“I’m sorry about Stephanie,” I said gently.
He took a large swig. “Me too.”
I paused, desperately wanting to say something to make it better, knowing I couldn’t. Any attempt by me would probably make it worse.
I just wished he would look at me or even turn toward me instead of tapping his red cocktail straw over and over against the bottom of his glass.
“Are you done?” he asked.
Yes. But I couldn’
t just leave him. “Ellis is doing his best and so am I,” I promised. “I was up front, talking to your mother—”
“Now I really must be drunk,” he snorted. At least he turned and looked at me. “What in hell did you have to say to her?”
“Beau…” I began. He never used to act this way or speak in such a vulgar manner. He’d been a fun party guy, but he’d never been such a drinker. I wasn’t sure what had happened to him in the past year, and it worried me. I sighed. It wasn’t my place to say anything. Not anymore. “Just…take care of yourself,” I said, leaving him to his drink.
“Run away, Verity,” he called after me. “Leave. You’re good at that.”
Shame on him for making it such an easy decision.
The kicker was, Beau could actually aid in this investigation—if he stayed sober and focused. We had a killer on the train and needed all the help we could get.
I passed through the hallway next to the galley and wondered about the knives I’d seen strewn on the floor after the near miss with the rocks on the track. I hadn’t gotten a good look at the one that the killer had planted in Stephanie’s back. But if they were the same, well, anyone could have gotten hold of it in the confusion.
But who would want Stephanie dead?
Despite Beau’s callous attitude, I didn’t believe for a minute that he’d killed her. His alibi held up, and besides, things had seemed to be going well between them. He’d invited a police officer to bunk next door. And even if she had somehow upset Beau enough to make him leave in the middle of the night, he’d barely started seeing her. He’d known me for two years, lost me the night before the wedding, and watched me date his brother. In all that time, I’d never once felt like Beau was out to physically harm me. He’d also appeared genuinely shocked this morning when we’d found the body.
So if not Beau, then who?
The train shuddered, and I paused between cars to gain my footing.
Ron was an obvious choice. Maybe he’d gotten tired of Stephanie pushing back on him. She’d denied any relationship to him, but he’d made it clear that they had some history. Mary Jo had confirmed it. And I knew what I’d seen in the alley. If I had to guess, I’d say he followed her on board. Let’s face it, a vacation through the countryside on a train full of happy couples was not a mecca for randy, single guys. And it was clear he hadn’t come to spend time with his parents.
Then there was the reporter, Eileen. There was no proof she’d gone to the back of the train when she’d left the dining room on that first night. She could just as easily have snuck to the front to sabotage the radio.
I suspected the murder and sabotage were connected. With communications out, our isolation made it too easy for the killer to remain at large and for potential evidence to be lost. No matter how well Ellis secured the scene, he didn’t have the resources or the manpower.
He was supposed to be on vacation.
I’d almost made it through the lead passenger car when the last door on the right clicked open. I jumped, ready to flee the other way, when the skinny porter stepped out of the room.
“Good afternoon, miss,” he said.
I looked behind him and caught eyes with Ron, who quickly looked away. Probably sheepish from his behavior this morning.
“Can I get you anything?” the porter asked.
“I’m fine,” I said quickly. I flashed him a smile. “I do appreciate you taking care of Beau Wydell last night,” I added, hoping he might say more.
He gave no reaction. “I take good care of all my passengers,” he said, sliding the door closed behind him. When I didn’t continue on, he hesitated. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”
“Positive,” I assured him, making haste for the last passenger car.
He nodded and strode up toward the dining room.
I watched him over my shoulder as I hurried the other way.
I let myself into my compartment and sighed in relief at the click of the lock behind me.
Of course, Stephanie had been in a locked room as well. It hadn’t stopped her killer.
Our room had been cleaned and converted back into a formal day area. I grabbed a nutrition bar and a bottle of water and sat down on the plush velvet sofa.
Most likely Stephanie had known her killer and let the person inside.
It could have been Eileen, following up on their clandestine meeting, the one she’d lied to me about.
Would I open the door right now if the reporter knocked?
Not for all the tea in China.
I doubted Stephanie would have opened the door for Ron after the way he’d tried to manhandle her in that alley. She might have let me in, or for that matter, the newlyweds or the fiftieth-anniversary couple. If she hadn’t felt under threat, she might have opened it for anyone. She could have answered a knock assuming Beau had forgotten his key.
I bit down on the chocolate-almond Kind bar. Perhaps Stephanie hadn’t opened the door at all. That skinny porter had a key that unlocked both her room and mine.
I scooted to the far side of the couch, keeping an eye on the door. I wished I had a heavy piece of furniture to slide in front of it.
So I wasn’t safe in my own compartment, or in anyone else’s—lest they be a killer. And I could just as easily be attacked in an empty hallway.
My boyfriend and protector was busy safeguarding his barracuda of a mom and learning from the living, while my next move would be to risk life and limb to get back to the caboose, where I might or might not find a ghost.
“Oh, Frankie.” I sighed.
How had this getaway gotten so complicated?
“What?” the gangster asked. His head popped out of the top drawer of the vanity, where I kept my unmentionables.
I leapt a foot in the air. “Frankie!” Of all the… “What are you doing in there?”
“Smoking,” he said, his full body appearing in front of me, cigarette in hand. “Thinking. Small spaces are good for taking a load off.” He took a drag. “Plus, I knew Molly wouldn’t look for me in your personals.” He flicked the ash off the end of his smoke. It disappeared on the way down to the floor. “Nice red teddy, by the way.”
“Are you and Molly in some sort of fight?” I asked. He’d been trying to get closer to his girlfriend for days. What had changed?
“Nah,” he said, making himself at home on the opposite side of the couch, elbow up to take another drag. “She’s expecting some hero detective, and I don’t know how to do that. So I’m lying low.”
“You have to try,” I insisted. “Your investigator buddy will get suspicious otherwise,” I added, appealing to Frankie’s sense of self-interest.
He raised his brows while taking another drag. “De Clercq will go off a bridge tomorrow. Besides, he can’t figure it out. There was absolutely no motive. Everyone liked Emma, and the kid had no enemies, nobody who would want her dead.”
“There’s always a motive,” I told him. “We just have to find it.”
“You sound like De Clercq.” Frankie shuddered. “All he’s got is a scrap of paper he found under the body. It’s got some kind of encrypted message. What am I supposed to do with that?”
I wasn’t half-bad at puzzles. “Well,” I said, “let me see.”
He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and placed it on the couch between us, then sat back and wedged a wing-tip shoe on the nice velvet.
“Foot off the couch,” I said automatically, taking a good look at the ghostly paper. It wasn’t a scrap. It was a very neat, although miniscule, note.
I knew better than to touch it. While I could handle objects from the ghostly plane, they felt uncomfortably cold and wet. Worse, my touch caused them to fade quickly. The detective had trusted Frankie to keep his clue in one piece.
The paper was no bigger than two postage stamps put together. It bore a scrawled message: 14/00 crow’s nest.
“It looks less like a code and more like a place,” I told him. “I mean, the words are real words at le
ast.”
“So what does that tell us?” Frankie asked, unimpressed.
“The numbers could be room numbers, only the compartments only go up to 10 and there’s no 00.”
Frankie groaned and planted his foot back on the couch. “If you’re going to point out the obvious, I’m going to hide somewhere else.”
“Fine.” We’d approach it from a different angle. “How many ghosts are on board right now other than you and the investigator?” I’d seen one in the dining room right after the train stopped. “Leave out the conductor for now.” He wasn’t involved as far as I could tell.
The mobster rubbed his chin. “Okay, then there’s three ghosts who are back.” He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. “All from the original wreck. All of them knew the murdered girl, Emma Flores, who is gone now after reliving her death last night.”
“Okay,” I said, mimicking his pose. “Who do we have still on the train?”
“There’s her sister, who shared her cabin. She’s an heiress and quite the looker.”
“And this impacts the case how?” I asked.
“I gotta pay attention to everything,” he said. “There’s some namby-pamby timber baron in compartment 8.” He gave me a side look. “Oh, and I almost forgot the spinster from compartment 10.”
“Are you joking?” I asked.
“No,” he snapped. “Geez. I’m asking for help, here.”
“Okay, so there are three suspects, plus the Green Lady.”
“Oh, yeah,” Frankie said. “I forgot about her.”
Great. I could see exactly why De Clercq chose him over me.
I tried another tack. “I hear the Green Lady walks the halls after the passengers have turned in for the night. Have you met her?”
“Briefly. I tried to bum a smoke. She flicked my hat off my head and told me she didn’t talk to fellas like me. She’s a jerk.”
It didn’t matter. “We need to question the ghosts, see what they know. That will help us put together the events that took place on the night of the murder. We need to use all the evidence De Clercq has so far.”
“This is the only clue we’ve got,” he protested.
“All right.” We’d make it work. “I need you to help me find the ghosts. Especially the Green Lady. She may know something about Stephanie’s murder.”
