Himalayan Hazard (Pet Whisperer P.I. Book 8)

by Molly Fitz

  We closed the rest of the distance back to our entry and exit point, and I was just about to step through into the train when an anguished cry rang out from deeper in the tunnel.

  A cat’s cry.

  “Octo-Cat!” I shouted and took off running. There was no way I was leaving him to face whatever danger lurked nearby on his own. I just hoped Dad could keep up.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Angie, wait!” my dad yelled, but I kept running as fast as I could toward the spot where Octo-Cat had cried out into the black night. By the time I found him lying on his side amidst the gravel, I’d practically run out of breath both from the burst of exercise and my pumping adrenaline.

  Please be okay. Please be okay.

  Praying hard, I scooped him into my arms and clutched him against my chest. “What happened? Are you okay? Octo-Cat, talk to me!”

  “Oof, take it down a couple notches, would you,” he muttered, shaking his head as if my volume had physically injured him.

  “What happened? Did you see the killer?” I demanded, searching his glowing amber eyes for answers.

  “The killer? Of course not. I’d tell you if I found the killer.” He actually had the audacity to laugh at me.

  “Then why did you scream? I thought you were hurt.”

  Now that I knew my cat was okay, I wanted to wring his furry little neck for striking such fear straight into my poor pet-owning heart.

  “I am hurt,” he said with a low growl, then shifted in my arms and shoved a paw into my face. “I got a little rock or something stuck between my toe beans. See.”

  “That reaction was about your toe beans?” I practically screamed but then, remembering the need not to disturb the other passengers on the train, dropped my voice to a whisper yell.

  “Don’t act like you don’t love them.” He laughed again, and it took all I had to keep listening as he spoke. “Now can you please be a good human and dislodge this thing for me?”

  Quickly, I plucked the pebble from his paw and tossed it away, then set him back on the ground.

  “Thank you,” he said, walking back toward our exit door with an exaggerated limp that I had no doubt he was faking for my benefit.

  “What happened?” Dad asked, concern still etched in his features despite my utterance of the ridiculous phrase toe beans.

  “Cat drama,” I explained in a growl, still beyond angry at Octo-Cat for worrying me needlessly. “C’mon, let’s go back to Mom and Dan.”

  We marched single file back toward the open door with me leading and Dad following. Once aboard, we stopped to inspect the door handle but found no blood marring its smooth surface. We did, however, find another spot on the carpet, only a few feet from the door, but—given the fact that each car was close to a hundred feet long—quite far from Rhonda’s room.

  Any dripping blood fell infrequently. No gushing here.

  It was fully likely we’d find more if we continued investigating outside the train, but the whole toe bean incident had spooked me thoroughly. It also made both Dad and I realize how vulnerable we were out there with no real way to protect ourselves.

  “What did you find?” Mom asked, greeting us at the door to Rhonda’s room and throwing her arms around Dad as if they’d been separated for days and not mere minutes. “I heard something, but Dan wouldn’t let me go investigate.”

  “Good man,” my dad said, giving the young redhead a fist bump.

  “Nothing happened,” I explained, then took on a cutesy voice I knew would drive my cat crazy. “The wittle kitty just got an ouchie in his wittle paw.”

  “Angela!” he cried, mouth gaping open in horror. “Not in front of another cat!”

  Grizabella laughed, which made me laugh, too.

  Dan just looked at me like I was certifiable. Maybe I was.

  I returned his lantern to him, then caught everyone up on the droplets of blood Dad and I had discovered. “Did you find anything more in here?” I asked once I’d finished.

  “Nope. You weren’t actually gone all that long, you know,” Dan answered, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms.

  Mom shrugged and offered me a weary smile. “Unfortunately, no.”

  We weren’t going to solve anything by staying huddled together in this room. Someone had to search the train, and that someone was me.

  “You guys keep searching here, and don’t let anyone else inside,” I said. “I’m going to see if I can find anything a bit further afield.”

  “Meaning you’re going off by yourself,” Dad summarized with a stern set to his jaw

  “I’ll take the cats,” I said, drawing another strange look from Dan; he had the good grace not to say anything, though.

  I didn’t stick around to argue the point with my dad anymore. There were dozens, maybe hundreds of people aboard this train. And only one of them was a killer. That is, if the killer hadn’t disembarked and run away like we now suspected.

  I turned on my phone to guide our way. Twelve percent battery left. Dan said the lights would be back on soon, and I was banking on that in a huge way now.

  “Why are we doing a sweep of the passenger cars again?” Octo-Cat asked, obvious irritation laced in his nasally voice. Apparently, my little trick earlier had cost me his pleasant cooperation. This didn’t bother me much, given that I was already well accustomed to working with a crabby tabby. Things actually felt more natural now.

  “She doesn’t trust us,” Grizabella answered for me.

  We moved into the next car, heading in the direction of the viewing car, dining car, and eventually our assigned seats. I paused after assuring no one had eyes on us.

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you guys. I mean, of course I trust you guys. But sometimes things are worth a second look, right?”

  “Uh-huh,” Octo-Cat responded with a furious flick of his tail. “You’re right. She doesn’t trust us.”

  “Told you,” Grizabella said, also flicking her fluffy tail. So glad they were bonding over this.

  I sighed, then spoke while trying to keep the frustration from my voice. “Can you guys just… We’re working together, not against each other. We all have the same goal here, so let’s act like it.”

  That shut them up fast. Thank goodness for small miracles.

  “Keep an eye out for any strange behavior, and keep trying to think of new ideas in case this doesn’t work,” I said when I was sure neither would hurl another argument at me.

  “It won’t work,” Grizabella complained, and I had to bite my tongue to avoid flying into a full-scale lecture about what I’d only just said. Could she really not see how hard I was trying to help here?

  Help for me came from an unlikely source. “She’s trying her best,” Octo-Cat explained softly. “Even if it’s not very good.”

  Grizabella harrumphed but continued to follow me as I marched off toward the next car.

  Oh, boy. I really hoped we’d find something on our tour of the train, because I’d love to make these cats eat crow.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Well, it looked like I’d be the one eating crow in the end.

  Our sweep of the train turned up nothing, just as the cats had warned. Most of the passengers appeared to be sleeping. The few who had woken up seemed relaxed and unbothered, probably because they didn’t know about the dead body that lay several cars back.

  I corralled my feline companions into the tiny vestibule between cars to chat about what we should do next. “Before you say I told you so, listen up. We can’t exactly shine lights in everyone’s faces and ask them if they killed Rhonda.”

  “Why not?” Grizabella asked with a long, flat face as she sat back heavily on her haunches.

  “Darling, please. Let the professionals talk.” Octo-Cat raised a paw to the Himalayan’s mouth to silence her. Wow, he had a lot to learn about women.

  And, okay, perhaps I laughed a bit too hard when she bit him right on his poor injured toe bean. Served him right for condescending to h
er, especially after he saw what happened when I attempted to shorten her overly fancy name.

  A whir sounded overhead, announcing the repaired electrical system. As the overhead lights popped backed on, muffled cheers rose from the cars on either side of us. People wanted to celebrate, but not wake their seatmates, which could definitely work to our advantage.

  “Well, look at that.” Octo-Cat deadpanned as I rubbed my eyes and wished for my sunglasses. “The lights are back on. Now, shall we return to plan A?”

  “There wasn’t a plan A,” I reminded him as bright spots danced at the edges of my vision.

  “Then why was there a plan B?”

  “Just listen!” I yelled. Enough was enough already.

  Apparently, Octo-Cat was just as fed up with me as I with him. “Well, jeez. You don’t have to yell,” he rasped with his signature snark.

  “Octavius, please,” Grizabella interjected, scooting closer to him so that their furry bodies touched at the sides.

  Thankfully—and probably just as Grizabella had suspected—this rendered the chatty tabby completely silent. Finally.

  She nodded for me to continue with what I had to say.

  “Most of the passengers are still asleep,” I explained, keeping a close eye on Octo-Cat to make sure he wouldn’t derail us yet again. “If the murderer is still on board, then he or she is definitely not just sleeping it off. That narrows our pool considerably. We couldn’t find any suspicious behavior when we simply walked through the cars, so I think our next step should be to add a little pressure.”

  “Good plan. What did you have in mind?” Grizabella asked while Octo-Cat purred beside her.

  “Nobody knows Rhonda’s dead except the people we’ve spoken with… and, well, I guess the killer knows, too. I say we pretend to have an urgent message for her and use that as an excuse to talk to the passengers who are awake.”

  “But Mistress is dead. How can we have a message for her?”

  “I know that, and we know that. But most of the people aboard don’t know that, so asking them won’t freak them out, right?”

  Grizabella’s eyes shone bright as understanding swept over her. “Oh, yes!”

  “So we’re just going to go up to each person we notice who’s awake and ask if they know where we can find Rhonda?” Octo-Cat asked, rejoining the conversation with a sappy grin stretched between his whiskers. Ahh, the power of love.

  “Pretty much,” I said. “I’ll do the talking, obviously. And you guys keep all your senses peeled.”

  Grizabella tilted her head to the side. “What does that—?”

  “Human expression,” my cat translated with a giant roll of his amber eyes.

  “Sorry,” I said with a chuckle. “You guys can smell changes in people’s hormones, right? So if someone were to get really stressed by my questions, you could tell… Yes?”

  “Yeah, humans are super easy to read,” Octo-Cat responded haughtily. “Such simple creatures.”

  I scowled at him, then turned back to the Himalayan with a smile. Finally, she was on my side, and it felt great. “Are we ready to do this?”

  “Let’s.” She rose to her feet and waited for me to open the door into the next car for her. We’d made our way back to the very front of the train a few cars in front of the one that held my family’s seats.

  “Excuse me,” I said to a woman who sat with a sullen looking teenager who was immersed in her phone. Probably not our killer, but I had to talk to everyone to avoid suspicion. “Do you know where I can find Rhonda Lou Ella Smith? I have an urgent message for her.”

  “Nope,” she answered with a slight shake of her head. “I’m sorry. Good luck.”

  I’m going to need it.

  I talked to several more people, both men and women of all ages, but not a single person showed any sign of recognizing the name. I checked with the cats between each car, just to make sure they hadn’t found something.

  They hadn’t.

  We entered the car that held our seats, and I immediately spotted a problem that I’d forgotten we had. Our special writer friend Melvin Mann paced up and down the aisle, talking to himself and eliciting the stares of every single person as he did. No one here was sleeping. Not a single soul.

  “Melvin, what are you doing?” I shouted, rushing toward him.

  “Trying to figure out the murder, of course,” he told me, tapping a pen against the fingers on his other hand.

  Someone cleared his throat across the aisle, and I laughed nervously. “Um, Mel. This isn’t the best time to plot out your next novel. These people are trying to sleep.” I laughed again and shoved him toward the end of the car, hoping and praying that our culprit hadn’t been sitting in that car while Melvin prattled on about all the pieces of evidence he’d either collected or overheard.

  As we approached the vestibule, I rasped in his ear, “Go back to the car. Dan and my parents are there. They’ll get you caught up.” I was hoping they wouldn’t tell our resident loose cannon anything, but I needed to offer something to get him to fall in line.

  “What car?” he asked, twisting toward me. A garish smile split his face as he realized. “Oh, the scene of the murder.”

  I pushed him through the door. “Get out of here, and—for goodness’ sake—try to keep a low profile.”

  “Hey, I’m a writer, not an actor.” He lifted a hand overhead and shook his finger at no one in particular. Not an actor, but he sure was a character.

  I stood in the vestibule, watching to make sure he kept going toward the sleeper cars without upsetting any more of the passengers.

  Grizabella paced and flicked her tail impatiently. “What now?”

  “We keep going and hope for the best.” I thought back over the details of the night, then smiled. “He wasn’t pacing and muttering to himself when we passed through the first time, so he must have just started when the lights turned back on. Just to be sure, I’ll shoot my dad a text and ask him to collect Melvin and get him away from the rest of the passengers.”

  My fingers moved over the keyboard on my phone. Eight percent battery now, but we had light, which made the dying phone far less of a problem that it was before.

  “Now, let’s get on with our search,” I told the cats, pushing into the next car, more determined than ever to find the murderer before circumstances beyond my control—or more specifically, Melvin—ruined everything.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I’d asked so many people if they knew where we could find Rhonda that my voice stung from overuse. The corners of my mouth also hurt from all the forced smiles. The cats and I had already hit up all the cars between the front of the train and the dining car, which meant there were only a few more to cross before arriving at the sleeper cars, and only a handful of those to try before we ran out of people to question altogether.

  C’mon. C’mon, please. We have to find something.

  I took a few more steps down the aisle, then turned to an older woman with shoulder-length black hair and large brown eyes rimmed with thick lashes. I could tell she’d been pretty in her youth because she was still stunning even now. She wore a hooded sweatshirt that you didn’t often see women her age sporting, and she definitely didn’t look like the type of person who’d have associated with Rhonda Lou Ella Smith, unless she was also a cat enthusiast.

  I smiled and took a deep breath, leaning closer to her as I spoke. “Excuse me. Do you know where I can find Rhonda Lou Ella Smith?” I asked pleasantly, widening my smile as I waited.

  She frowned and mouthed, “Sorry” without actually making a sound. Respecting her sleeping seatmate, how thoughtful. I’d been far less considerate in my search, jostling several passengers from sleep unintentionally.

  “We’ve got a live one here!” Octo-Cat bellowed.

  “She knows something,” Grizabella confirmed in her melodic voice. “I can smell it all over her.”

  Showtime.

  “Excuse me,” I said to the woman who had already returned he
r attention to the paperback novel in her hands. “Are you sure you don’t know Rhonda? It’s really quite urgent.”

  “No. Now please let me return to my reading,” she grumbled, then raised her book higher to block me out.

  “She’s lying!” Grizabella shouted. “She’s lying!”

  I pushed the book down and forced the woman to look me in the eye. “I’m sorry, but if you don’t know Rhonda, then why are you acting so nervous?”

  “Nervous?” she asked, then laughed nervously. How convincing. “I’m not nerv—”

  “No more lies!” Grizabella cried, jumping right onto the woman’s lap and unleashing a terrible hiss.

  “G-G-Grizabella?” the woman stuttered. “What are you—?”

  “So you do know her!” I widened my stance to block her into her seat in case she tried to make a run for it. I might be angering a violent criminal, but at least the train car was filled to the brim with witnesses. She wouldn’t be so bold as to try anything in front of them… Would she?

  The woman set her book down without even bothering to adjust the bookmark. “What’s the message? Perhaps I can give it to her.”

  “It’s really quite urgent. Would you come with me? The conductor’s been searching for anyone connected with Rhonda, because we need your help. Urgently.” Ugh. I needed to keep repeating urgent over and over again like it was some kind of magic passcode.

  “But I thought you said you had a message for her?”

  “Yes, and for you. Now will you join me, or should I call security?” I didn’t even know if this train had security, but the threat worked to get the woman out of her seat.

  I surreptitiously texted my mom and asked her to meet me in the viewing car so we could escort the woman back to Rhonda’s room together. For all I knew, she was the killer and could try to take me out at the first opportunity.

  As much as I trusted my cat partners to want to protect me, they were no match for a human with a weapon and a motive. I needed to keep her talking as I walked behind her and guided her toward the sleeper cars. Maybe she hadn’t figured out that I suspected her—or at least not yet.