Killer On The Train

by Bruce Alan Jensen

  “Thank you, Mr. Beaumont,” Alicia said, taking the mic. “I know you have many questions, but please hold off asking any until the investigators speak to you. Mr. Beaumont told you David Hatchett died. This occurred under suspicious circumstances on the Wine Train over two hours ago.” Tomlinson surveyed the crowd.

  “We need your help in identifying the perpetrator. We will interview each of you, for elimination purposes, and to determine anything you may have witnessed. The smallest detail could speed up the process. Our Bureau investigators and Sheriff's Department Deputies will ask questions. They may require additional interviews with you. Please help us by complying with our requests. I thank you all, in advance, for your cooperation. We will complete our interviews as quickly as possible, but understand, death has occurred, and we need to be thorough. I ask that all the train staff, event personnel, winery representatives, the press, and photographers gather in that corner.” Tomlinson pointed to a section of the bleachers where Agent Cordero Smith was waving a hand-written placard with the display: #1.”

  She continued dividing the attendees into two other groups and directed them to areas identified as #2 and #3. The distance between the interview areas prevented one group from hearing another. Hank impressed with her handling the crowd knew it was imperative to have everyone separated so they couldn't share details or contradict anyone's observation.

  Bureau Agent Lee Michaels led the #2 group, and Agent Tomlinson assigned the Sheriff to the third. She and Bridge would check in with each group. Agent Donovan and several deputies assisted with the interviews and note taking.

  Tomlinson asked Charles and Hank to join her as she took Stan Klein, the bar helper, and Jackson Crow, the bartender, aside for questioning. “Stan, please tell us what happened,” Agent Tomlison asked.

  Klein's hands shook. He repeated his story, almost word for word. “I went to get more wine from the cooler. We were running low, and the line of customers getting long. I walked back to the cooler, opened the door and this guy was lying on the floor with a knife in his gut. I almost threw up. I've never seen a dead person before, and I freaked. I rushed back to the bar to tell my boss and then we found Mr. Beaumont. It was horrible. I know that no one liked the guy, but this?”

  “How do you know he wasn't liked?” Alicia asked.

  “I knew his name, and I heard people at the bar saying that.” Klein wiped the perspiration from his brow with his shirtsleeve before continuing. “I'll help you as much as I can, but that's really all I can tell you. The bar was very busy, and me too.”

  Klein agreed to give a formal interview at the Bureau offices on Thursday afternoon if needed and would add anything else he might remember.

  Something else was bothering him, Hank thought.

  Since Crow had not left the bar during the train trip, he was of no help and not considered a suspect. Both he and Klein agreed that if they remembered anything, they would call. Tomlinson gave them her card, giving them the standard instruction, “Don't leave town without notifying me first.”

  The two were walking toward an empty bleacher section when Crow turned back. “Agent Tomlinson, ma'am, if we aren't needed anymore, would it be okay if I called my wife to come get me? I live in Napa, and I can give Stan a lift.”

  She thought for a few seconds before responding. “I don't have a problem with it as long as you both stay available and in town. Make your call.”

  Relieved, the young men rushed to the exit. Charles excused himself and headed toward Dan Alioto. Hank turned to Agent Tomlinson, “That was kind of you, given the circumstances, though I doubt either of them had anything to do with the murder. That poor kid is still in shock, and his boss isn't in much better shape. Agent Tomlinson, if I’m out of line saying this, I apologize.” Hank felt pressured to do his best not to step on this woman’s toes. He wanted her to like him.

  “Not a problem Mr. Carson, may I call you Henry?”

  “Hank, please. Charles is the only one who calls me Henry.”

  “Okay, Hank it is. In private you can call me Alicia. Can't have my 'boys' thinking they can get familiar.”

  Hank shook his head. “I know the need for maintaining the chain of command. I noticed that there were many people taking photos of the event, besides the professional photographers. Maybe one or more of the guests caught something. This might help place people in various locations near the crime scene. I didn't find video cameras on the train.”

  “Do you have any observations or thoughts about the suspect?”

  “I doubt that the suspect isn't a novice since the scene doesn't appear premeditated. I expect the suspect just reacted to a situation.”

  “Thanks for this observation. Now excuse me,” Tomlinson said, walking over to the #1 group.

  Hank wasn't comfortable that her expression supported his comment. As he watched, she talked with Bridge and Sheriff Billingsly, for fifteen minutes. From the way she held her head, he knew she had good investigative skills. She strode back toward him. He loved watching the way she walked. Self-assured but sexy as hell.

  “Hank, I appreciate your suggestion. The Sheriff will ask everyone if they took photos and collect the deputies will collect the digital and film if needed.” Her professionalism no longer in question, nor her position in the pecking order at risk, she loosened up. He noticed her shoulders relax as she grinned at him.

  “Hank, if you hadn't taken control of the scene, there's no telling what we would have found. It could have ruined any evidence, and we would have had a hell of a time figuring this out. It's difficult enough with so damn many potential suspects. I want you to know I appreciate your professionalism.”

  Hank's attention focused on her pools of hazel and gold, while attentive to her words, hoping she didn't notice where his mind was going.

  “Are you aware you have a huge smile on your face?” Alicia gave him a querying look. “Is there something amusing about what I said?”

  Hank could not stop smiling. There was a disconnect between her serious words and his facial expression. “I'm sorry. I was thinking of something else. As far as thanking me, I only did what I could. I want to help your team. Once a cop, always a cop.”

  “You're still smiling, Hank. What's going on?”

  This beauty was pushing Hank into a corner. He either had to fess up or come up with an excuse. He felt like a teenage boy asking for a first date. What a dipshit! Now he forced himself to stop smiling, he became tongue-tied, and not sure of what to say to ease the situation.

  FIVE

  “Agent Tomlinson, Henry. I’ve brought you sandwiches and coffee,” Charles said, walking up to them, balancing a tray with a smile on his face.

  “Charles Beaumont, you are my hero,” Hank said, smiling as he took the food from his friend. “Thanks.”

  Charles, always considerate of others, arranged for food and drink for the guests at his expense. The man was amazing. This gesture reduced much of the tension and boredom of waiting.

  Alicia and Hank sat on the bleachers to eat the ham and cheese sandwiches and sip the hot coffee. Alicia remarked, “Food never tasted so good. I didn’t realize how famished I was.”

  While eating, he and Alicia concluded the murder was spontaneous. “The murderer hadn't disposed of the weapon or tried to hide the body. Pretty sloppy,” Hank commented. “The problem is the man wasn't liked, thus many suspects.”

  Alicia finished her sandwich and excused herself. “I need to talk with Michaels who just arrived.” Hank stayed in the bleachers and watched the action. He assumed forensic evidence along with people relating to the event would lead to the suspected killer of Hatchett.

  A half hour later she returned. “The M.E. and the Crime Scene Unit (CSU) teams have taken charge of the train and murder scene. The CSU tested the area for contaminants, then the photographers did their thing with preliminary observation, focused on the lethal stab wounds to the chest of the victim. There was little blood splatter and limited cast-off from a weapon, no f
ootprints, or any other visible indicators were found at first. Michaels also picked up more info from a CSU tech.”

  Alicia summed up that after the removal of the body by the M.E., evidence got collected. The CSU tech team had suited up, put on ventilator masks and sprayed Luminol throughout the cooler, the hallway, and the restrooms. Using an Ultra Violet light, all the blood became visible.

  “I'm sure you're familiar with this procedure.”

  “Yes, very. What about fingerprints?” Hank asked.

  “They used Cyanoacrylate Fuming to identify fingerprints throughout the cooler and hallway. The prints got dusted with applicable powder and photographed before being saved. They collected thirty-eight different fingerprint cards, most of them poor quality. The tech said one set of prints on the door jamb stood out. It was a perfect specimen of a thumb, the index, and third finger of the right hand, and there is a possibility these are the prints of the murderer.”

  “That's great. Are the potential suspects being printed?” Hank asked.

  “Those individuals identified as having prior contact with the victim, and having had access to the cooler or proximity to the crime scene got separated, interviewed, and fingerprinted by a Sheriff's Department technician. We hope to narrow down the list of suspects,” Alicia whispered to Hank who nodded.

  Alicia and Hank watched the questioning conducted by agents Bridge and Smith. The questioning of the train passengers continued for over three hours. Most of them claimed they had never met Hatchett nor seen him on the train. All individuals identified themselves and gave their address and phone numbers.

  Once the sun descended at 4:45, the temperature dropped. The storm clouds cleared the area and the landscape faded to gradients of gray shadows, growing longer and longer until an inky coat lay over the town and vineyards. The fog rolling in soon would last until mid-morning.

  Interviewed guests waited for their traveling companions. They talked in groups. Objections and melodramatic threats had long since stopped, replaced by the excitement of being part of a murder investigation. With harrowing tales to tell anyone who would listen, they could become vicariously famous. There was no such thing as bad publicity. The prospect of telling this story at the golf course, at dinner, or in the health spa, could be a mollifying factor. Never underestimate the need for feeding the already over-developed ego. Although cautioned not to discuss the case with others, the chattering of the groups was continuous and animated.

  By seven o’clock twenty-two people became advised they would need to appear for additional interviews at the Bureau headquarters in Sacramento. Appointments got made for the next three days. Narrowing down suspects and ruling out anyone who appeared to be the least bit suspicious was an impressive job. The forensic team had collected all available evidence. By the time they left, the crime scene floor was free of any blood or contaminants.

  Once interviewed, the process of transporting the passengers back to the Wine Train station in Napa began. The deputies escorted folks out of the auditorium to the waiting buses on a rotating schedule, leaving every thirty minutes. The wealthier travelers made arrangements to leave by limousine.

  Charles approached Alicia and Hank. “Henry, I am so sorry you had to wait all this time,” Charles' said in a serious tone. Even though he looked exhausted, he gained a cheery voice and demeanor. “Our plans to get together later is delayed. I will be here long after the last person leaves. The clean-up crew will be here soon. After they complete their job, I've scheduled my car to pick me up. I hope to get to my hotel soon, soak in the hot tub and attempt to forget this day.”

  Hank's heart went out to this kind man who never failed to go above and beyond what's required, rather than have others take on any burden. Hank was about to tell Charles he would grab the last bus when Alicia tapped his arm.

  “Why don't you ride with me and Agent Bridge? We can drop you in Napa at your car.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that,” Hank said, pleased with her invitation. “Charles, I'm sorry that you had to deal with this situation. Your genorisity is awesome. Go and relax. I'll ride with the agents.”

  Soon after Alicia said his name, Agent Bridge walked up to them. “Boss, we're nearly finished, and everyone should be out of here shortly. The Sheriff and deputies will close up and ensure everyone is returned to the Napa train station.”

  “Thanks, Bridge. We'll meet you at the car when you're sure we can leave.” Bridge nodded and left.

  Alicia and Hank walked out of the gymnasium side by side. At the Bureau vehicle, they waited for Bridge to arrive. Hank watched her expression deepen, so he remained quiet.

  “You can ride shotgun, Hank. Chris won't mind relaxing in the back seat, will you, Chris?” Alicia asked Bridge after he arrived.

  “Not at all, boss. Hope you don't mind if I catch a few winks.” He settled into the back seat as Hank belted up in the front passenger seat.

  Alicia started the cruiser, put it into gear and pulled south onto the road toward Napa. “Mr. Carson, do you have any impressions or hunches about the perp?”

  She avoided the first name basis as promised. “Please, call me Hank,” he grinned. “From what I picked up, Hatchett’s restaurant reviews were more personal than professional which, intrigues me. The guy was aptly named considering the reviews he did on many restaurants and wines. The only reviews I heard about got the 'Hatchett-job.' Pun intended.”

  She laughed, and Bridge gave a muffled groan.

  Hank continued his analysis. “Did any of the chefs and restaurant owners you interviewed who had received bad reviews appear angry or vengeful? They would have a motive. Then again, any of the train's kitchen staff, bar runners, or bartenders could be the perpetrator.”

  “Once we get the interviews compiled and organized, we'll have a better picture. This may be a tough case because there are so many suspects. When we're alone, first names are okay,” Alicia said looking into the rearview mirror. “Chris, have Austin compile a complete list of all passengers and staff aboard the train. Then have him do a 'wants and warrants' search for all the staff and passengers. What did you pick up in your interviews?”

  “The owners of the Cafe Rouge, Bistro Margot, and Cafe Aix acted distraught over the reviews from Hatchett,” Bridge replied. “The chef and owner of the 960 Restaurant & Bar, Chez Gerard, Cafe Angéle, and Bistro Rendezvous of Napa had similar attitudes and comments. We need to compile our notes to see if there are others with a similar opinion or motive. I'll know more after we talk to Cordero tomorrow about his interviews with the wine reps. Sheriff Billings will be available if we need him.”

  “Billings is a good guy, smart and experienced. We’re lucky to have him. He was a cop in Seattle and dropped out of the rat race when his kids became teenagers. Told me when we first met a few years ago that he and his wife, Brittney, wanted a slower, simpler life. I doubt he had a day like today in mind when he told me that.”

  Bridge added, “I think we need to look closer at the ones who got the worst reviews from Hatchett.”

  Hank leaned toward Alicia. “I feel the kitchen crew, considering the proximity of the kitchen to the crime scene, may need more detailed questioning. Their information may help flush out a suspect.” She nodded in agreement. Hank continued, “I assume you can narrow down the suspects and identify the perp from those interviewed tomorrow. Do you think I can be of any more help?”

  “So far your insights are sound, but it’s unlikely we will include you in the investigation. Oh, Chris, CSU has Hatchett's cell phone. Have them search it to see if there are any matching names to the list Austin is to put together.

  “Sure, boss.”

  Being left out of the investigation hit Hank hard. “I understand that you don’t need me,” he said, not wanting her to sense his disappointment. “But if something comes up and there is anything you need from me, I’m at your disposal,” he said, finding it difficult to let go.

  Although Hank was interested in solving the murder, a lot of
his feelings related to his attraction to this woman. He hated to admit he would do whatever possible to get to know her better. During the hours they’d spent together, Hank felt chemistry developing.

  Bite the bullet, don’t be a jerk.

  As she pulled into the railroad station and before saying goodbye, he looked at her, then asked if he could call her. Waiting for her response, he held his breath.

  “Good idea, I have a few issues to discuss. It is rare to have a qualified investigator at the scene of a murder. Can you come into headquarters tomorrow to observe the additional interviews in Sacramento?”

  “I can be there about ten,” Hank answered, surprised and pleased with her request. Maybe she was interested but wanted to keep things on the work level instead of making it personal. For the time being, he’d take what he could get.

  “Good. See you tomorrow at HQ.” Alicia said, handing him her card as Hank exited the car.

  Walking to his car, he was glad he'd arrived early and avoided the remote lot and shuttle service. Even with the illumination from the parking lot lights, he realized how dark the night was.

  Driving to the RV park in Napa, Hank continued to daydream about Alicia. The attraction he felt was overwhelming. Over and over he speculated on the possibilities of them being together. Never once did he imagine a one-night-stand or a brief affair.

  My God, what am I thinking? Am I losing my mind? Shaking his head to clear these pipedreams, he concentrated on his driving.

  The thought of spending more time with Alicia gave him a warm feeling. He loved smart, good-looking women. She was a take-charge woman, confident in her role as supervisor. A strong woman, who delegated to her team with authority. Hank found those traits appealing. He'd watched as she spoke to each member with respect and used praises when appropriate. The agents he’d met looked to her for guidance, taking orders without a hint of resentment that their superior was a woman.