There was alarm in her voice. “The courthouse? You're not going to turn us all in, are you? He'll kill you."
Now I looked at her. “I helped your boyfriend find and kill a war veteran. A decent guy, all in all. Not perfect, but a guy with a conscience he listened to once in a while. Something most of us never do. And now he's dead because of me."
Tears filled her eyes as she pulled to a stop in front of the courthouse. “Callahan's not my boyfriend. Not anymore."
"Who are you trying to kid, Lana? You're perfect for each other. You have to be or you'll end up dead like Bormann."
She began sobbing.
I got out and walked into the courthouse. Room 29 was easy to find, its pebbled glass door stenciled with the words “Minneapolis Police Department."
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I had to hurry to catch the 12:01. Lana had dropped me off at the courthouse at 11:40, but she was gone by the time I left the building so I'd had to run the three blocks to the depot. The reservation was still there for a double bedroom in a sleeping car. I bought my ticket with the first half of the money—the only money—Callahan had paid me.
As I pulled my suitcase out of the storage locker, I heard the final boarding call for the Rock Island Twin Star Rocket on Platform 1. I hurried through the waiting room and pushed through the double doors to the vast train shed that covered the platforms. It was a dead-end station, so all of the trains were backed in, their engines pointing toward the way out.
I spotted Buzz-cut wading through the crowds to the left, moving slowly in the direction of the other platforms. There were no trains directly to L.A., so he had no idea which connector I'd take, or if I'd even be here at all. He was trying to look casual as he searched for me, as casual as someone can look while holding a loaded gun in their coat pocket.
The conductor on Platform 1 yelled, “All aboard!"
I sprinted to the train and hopped onto the first step of the vestibule to the last car as the Rock Island Rocket began to pull away. When I turned back, Buzz-cut was still looking toward the other platforms. He hadn't seen me.
Not until he heard Lana call my name.
"Darrow! Darrow, wait!"
She'd just come through the double doors and was running toward Platform 1 in high heels and a yellow chiffon dress. Her platinum blond hair fluttered behind her like a white flag.
Buzz-cut spotted me and drew a black and oily gun from his pocket. Passengers near him on the platform screamed and scattered. His aim settled on us just as Lana reached me. I grabbed her arm and swung her up on the steps behind the protection of the metal vestibule frame.
I never heard the shot. I'm not sure Buzz-cut even fired one. When I looked around the corner of the vestibule, his gun was lowered and he was barking out curses that got lost among the screams of women and the groans of the engines. Then, as travelers pointed at him and yelled for security, he turned and ran for the exit.
As our train moved slowly out of range, Lana held her body hard against mine.
"Go home,” I said with conviction that was already beginning to fade.
"I don't want to.” She tilted her head up at me. “I've always dreamed of going to Hollywood."
A couple of questions clung to me just as tightly as she did: How had Buzz-cut known to come after me? Who had told Callahan what had happened at Bormann's house? Only Lana and Pinstripe had that information. Pinstripe may have dragged himself to the phone and called, but that might have taken more dedication to his profession than I gave him credit for. And as Lana had come running across the platform, she'd been running for dear life. The problem was I couldn't tell if the dear life she'd been running for was hers or mine.
The train was slowly picking up speed. We'd left behind the shadows of the depot's shed and had moved into the afternoon sunlight.
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"Because I stopped at the courthouse when you asked me to."
She had. She'd given me the chance to try to make amends. To drop off the brass compass and leave quick instructions as to how to use it to find Callahan. I'd felt confident this would put Callahan in jail, until I remembered what the document clerk had said. His requests to the Minneapolis Police Department had gone unanswered, which meant that Callahan probably had someone inside the department who made sure such things got lost. So there was no guarantee that the compass would lead anyone anywhere.
But I guess that's the trouble with compasses. They tell you where you are, but not where you're going.
At that moment I had no idea where my life was going. No idea whether being a private investigator was worth the trouble or not.
But at that moment there was one thing I did know. I knew what I had. I had Lana under my arm and a ticket for a double bedroom in my coat pocket.
I didn't need a compass to tell me to head in that direction.
Copyright © 2009 by C. J. Harper
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ELLERY QUEEN'S MYSTERY MAGAZINE. Vol. 134, No. 1. Whole No. 815, July 2009. ISSN 0013-6328, USPS 523-610. Dell GST# R123054108. Published monthly except for combined March/ April and September/October double issues by Dell Magazines, a division of Crosstown Publications. 1-year subscription $55.90 in U.S. and possessions, in all other countries $65.90 (GST included in Canada), payable in advance in U.S. funds. Subscription orders and mail regarding subscriptions should be sent to Ellery Queen, 6 Prowitt St., Norwalk, CT 06855, or call 800-220-7443. Editorial Offices, 475 Park Ave. South, New York, NY 10016. Executive Office, 6 Prowitt St., Norwalk, CT 06855-1220. Periodical postage paid at Norwalk, CT and additional mailing offices. Canadian postage paid at Montreal, Quebec, Canada Post International Publications Mail, Product Sales Agreement No. 40012460. ©2008 Dell Magazines, a division of Crosstown Publications, all rights reserved. Dell is a trademark registered in the U.S. Patent Office. Protection secured under the Universal Copyright Convention and the Pan American Copyright convention. ELLERY QUEEN'S MYSTERY MAGAZINE(R) is the registered trademark of Ellery Queen. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, 6 Prowitt St., Norwalk, CT 06855. In Canada return to Quebecor St. Jean, 800 Blvd. Industrial, St. Jean, Quebec J3B 8G4. Printed in Canada.
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