by Janet Dawson
Jill hefted the blue bag. “Okay, you can help me. We have lots of stockings to stuff.” She opened the compartment door and stepped out to the passageway, stopping abruptly as she came face-to-face with Mike Scolari. “Hello. We’re heading for the diner to get ready for the children’s Christmas party. Come on, Emily.”
The little girl stepped into the passageway, smoothing the sweater she wore over her plaid skirt.
“Let me help with that.” Mike Scolari took the bag and peered inside.
“It’s just a few things I picked up at Woolworth’s,” she said. “Christmas stockings and candy for the children’s party.”
“On your own dime? That’s really nice of you.” He rooted around in the bag. “Candy canes. Bit-O-Honey. Sky Bars. Necco Wafers. Hey, Hershey’s Kisses. My favorite. Did you know there was a shortage of Hershey’s Kisses during the war?”
“Yes, and I really missed them.” Jill loved Hershey’s Kisses, and the little chocolate candies had been in short supply during and just after the war. Rationing of raw materials during that time meant no aluminum foil for the wrappers. “If you’ll help us stuff these stockings, I’ll see that you get some Kisses.”
He grinned. “Chocolate, or the other kind?”
Jill put on her best no-nonsense face. “Chocolate, Mr. Scolari.”
“Well, I’ll take whatever kisses I can get, Miss McLeod.”
Emily tugged on Jill’s sleeve. “Come on, let’s go. We gotta get ready for the party.”
Mike Scolari laughed. “Lead the way.”
“I like Necco Wafers,” Emily said as they walked to the diner. “So did my dad.”
“My father loves them,” Jill said. “He likes the lime green ones. What flavors do you like?”
“The yellow ones, lemon,” Emily said. “I don’t like the black ones, ’cause I don’t like licorice.”
“Brown for me, the chocolate,” Mike Scolari said. “I’m a chocolate kind of a guy.”
“I gathered that,” Jill said.
In the diner, the waiters had the tables set for the party. On a table in the center of the diner was a two-layer cake frosted in snowy white, its top decorated with a Christmas tree drawn in green icing, with colored candy balls as ornaments and red frosting piped around the rim.
“It’s beautiful,” she told the chef. “You’ve outdone yourself.”
“Vanilla,” he said, “with a chocolate custard between the layers.”
“Good.” Jill smiled as Mike Scolari set the bag on the steward’s counter. “We were just having a conversation about chocolate.”
Jill wasn’t sure how many children would be on the train this Christmas Eve. During her foray to Woolworth’s, she bought fifty Christmas stockings. Whatever was left over could be used another time. Once on the train, she’d kept track of the children. Some had gotten off the train at earlier stops. Right now there were twenty-seven children on board, ranging in ages from infants to teenagers.
She pulled the stockings from the bag. Each stocking, made of red or green felt, was six inches deep, had a white cuff and was decorated with a Santa Claus, a Christmas tree, a snowman, or a wreath. Jill handed Emily a fistful of candy canes and directed the little girl to place one candy cane at each place setting.
“This canyon is beautiful,” Mike said as he tucked a Bit-O-Honey bar into a stocking.
“I never tire of it.” Jill glanced out the window of the dining car, as she picked up a handful of Hershey’s Kisses.
“Have you ever stayed at the Hotel Colorado?” he asked.
“Once.” Jill smiled at the memory. Her family took the train, one of the Zephyr’s precursors, to Glenwood Springs and they’d spent several days at the old resort hotel, soaking in the hot springs and exploring the town. “That was the summer of nineteen forty-one. We were living in Denver then. My father’s a doctor, he was at St. Joseph Hospital. Then came Pearl Harbor. Dad joined the Navy. We stayed in Denver and lived with my grandmother.”
“Where did your father serve during the war?”
“The South Pacific. He was on a carrier, the Essex.”
“Then he saw action at Wake Island and Tarawa,” Mike said. “I was on the Intrepid, at Leyte Gulf.”
“Were you a flier?” Jill asked. He nodded. “I thought so, when I saw that leather jacket you were wearing. Did you go to Korea?”
He nodded again. Jill was just about to ask him more questions when Emily appeared, scowling at her. “You’re supposed to put candy in stockings, not talk. The other kids will be here soon.”
Jill looked at her watch. “Goodness, she’s right. It’s twenty minutes past two, and the party starts at half past.”
The train had left Glenwood Canyon by now. It was nearing the little town of Dotsero, where the Eagle River flowed into the Colorado. The old mining town was also the southern end of the cutoff that had joined the Denver and Rio Grande Western line with the Moffat Route—so named because of its founder, David Moffat, the man for whom the tunnel under the Continental Divide had also been named.
Outside the window, snow blurred the landscape as the train followed the curve of the Colorado River. Jill, Emily, and Mike finished stuffing candy into the stockings, just as Billy and Chip Benson ran into the dining car, followed by their mother.
“They’re so excited about the party I couldn’t keep them still,” Norma Benson said. “Here, give me a bunch of those stockings. I’ll put them on the tables.”
As the train emerged from the Sweetwater tunnel, more children streamed into the dining car. George Neeley was at the head of the group from the sleeper cars, while Tina Moreno came from the other direction, with a contingent of children from the chair cars. Soon the dining car rang with voices as the children and adults sang “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” Jill led a chorus of “Deck the Halls.” Then four waiters harmonized like a barbershop quartet as they sang of chestnuts and an open fire.
When Mr. Gaskill, the conductor, arrived, he boomed a question in his “All aboard” voice. “Does everyone know the words to ‘Jingle Bells’? Good. Let’s see if we can sing loud enough for the engineer to hear us.”
The children obliged and the familiar Christmas song reverberated through the dining car. Then, with great ceremony, the chef cut the cake. The waiters distributed plates and glasses of milk. In between bites of cake, Mr. Gaskill let the children try on his conductor’s hat.
“This is a lot of fun,” Mike Scolari said. “It’s really nice of you to put on a party for the kids, especially on your own hook.”
Jill smiled. “I enjoy it, too. Since I’ll be away from my family at Christmas, this helps me bring Christmas to the train. Look, it’s snowing even harder.” Jill gestured at the white flakes, spinning and dancing above the icy river.
Mike Scolari stood beside her and smiled. Then he sang in a light tenor, “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.”
Chapter Fifteen
The last of the carols had been sung, and the lovely Christmas cake had been reduced to a pile of crumbs on the big platter. Children and parents straggled out of the dining car, the youngsters carrying their stockings and candy. The waiters laughed and talked as they cleared up, carrying dishes and cutlery to the kitchen.
Jill and Mike Scolari gathered the remaining stockings and candy, tucking them into the carpetbag they’d set atop the steward’s counter.
“The train’s stopping,” he said as the Zephyr slowed.
Jill looked at her watch. “Three-twelve, on schedule. This is Bond. We have an engine crew change here, getting a new engineer and fireman. We won’t be here very long.”
As Jill predicted, the train halted briefly, then got underway again. As the Zephyr picked up speed, three children appeared from the rear of the car, Tina Moreno, followed by Billy and Chip. They ran through the diner, sidestepping the waiters, and darted into the passageway alongside the kitchen and pantry, heading forward to the Silver Hostel and the chair cars.
Jill smiled. “Goodne
ss. Wonder what that’s all about?”
“I bet it’s the scavenger hunt you told me about,” he said. “They’re going to find all the things on that list and beat the other team.”
“Something tells me I shouldn’t have proposed that scavenger hunt.” Jill put the last of the candy into the bag. “I really appreciate your helping me with the party, Mr. Scolari.”
“Call me Mike.”
“Not on duty,” Jill said. Though she wouldn’t mind calling him Mike off duty.
“Ah, strictly business.” He inclined his head. “All right, Miss McLeod. Is there a chance I can see you off duty? Say, after the holidays, when I get back to San Francisco?”
She nodded. “I think that’s possible. I’m just across the bay, in Alameda.”
“You know, Oklahoma! just opened at the Geary Theatre. I really want to see that. How about you?”
“I love musicals,” Jill said. “And I would very much like to see Oklahoma!”
“Great. I’ll get your phone number before I get off the train in Denver.” He grinned as he picked up the bag. “So, we take these Christmas goodies back to your compartment?”
“Yes. Then I need to start making dinner reservations. It’s quarter past three already.”
Now other children boiled into the diner, coming from the rear of the train. Emily headed the group, flanked by Nan and Cathy, with George bringing up the rear. Emily stopped in front of Jill and looked up. “I can’t find Tidsy. She’s not on the train.”
“Of course she’s on the train. She must be in your bedroom. Or in the lounge.” Then Jill paused, considering. If Mrs. Tidsdale had left her bedroom and gone to the lounge in the Silver Hostel, she would have to come through the dining car. Surely Jill would have seen her, even with all the children here for the party. Mrs. Tidsdale stood out in a crowd.
Emily shook her head. “She’s not. We’ve looked in every car between here and the Silver Solarium.”
Jill frowned. “What about the chair cars?”
“Tina and Billy and Chip are looking at the chair cars,” George said.
So that was why the three children had rushed through the diner just moments ago. Now they were back. “No Tidsy, no Tidsy,” Chip called.
“I climbed up to all the Vista-Domes,” Billy said.
“I even looked in all the ladies’ restrooms,” Tina reported. “I didn’t see her.”
Emily put her hands on her hips. “We can’t find her anywhere.”
“It’s a mystery, like Sherlock Holmes,” George added.
Little Chip Benson repeated his chant. “No Tidsy, no Tidsy.”
“Hush up, Chip.” Billy put a hand over his younger brother’s mouth. All the children looked expectantly at Jill.
“Uh-oh,” Mike Scolari said.
“Uh-oh, indeed.” Jill’s mind whirled. Mrs. Tidsdale had to be on the train. Before lunch she’d been in her usual spot in the lounge on the Silver Hostel, at that table near the bar, with her cigarettes and ashtray in front of her, a tumbler of Scotch close at hand. Then she and Emily had gone to the dining car with Jill. But suddenly Mrs. Tidsdale complained of a headache. She was going to take an aspirin and have a nap, she’d said as she left the dining car.
An unwelcome thought crept into Jill’s mind. Mrs. Tidsdale had been flirting with Mr. Paynter, ever since they’d met the day before. What if the two of them were in his bedroom on the Silver Gull? It wouldn’t be first time people had used the Pullman cars for assignations.
Jill drew a quick breath as another unwelcome thought occurred to her. What if the children were right and Mrs. Tidsdale wasn’t aboard? What if the woman had stepped off the train during the brief stop at the Glenwood Springs station? What if she hadn’t boarded again? It was tempting for passengers to walk over to the Hotel Denver, just beyond the station. It wouldn’t be the first time a passenger left the platform during a short stop and got left behind. Jill had seen it happen before, at the longer Grand Junction stop and the crew change in Oroville.
“I’ll look for her,” Jill told the children. “I’m sure the conductor, the porters, and I can find her. We can look in places that you can’t go. You kids go back to the Silver Solarium. And please don’t tell anyone about Mrs. Tidsdale, not just yet.”
“But we want to help look for her,” George said.
“You’ve already done your part,” Mike said. “I think we should do what Miss McLeod says. After all, she’s the Zephyrette. She’s a member of the train crew, and we passengers have to do what the train crew says. Let’s all go back to the Silver Solarium and keep out of Miss McLeod’s way. ” The children grumbled, but they turned and headed for the sleepers.
“Thanks,” Jill said. “I’d rather they didn’t spread the news that Mrs. Tidsdale seems to be missing. After all, she may turn up.”
“Right.” Mike set down the bag. “I’ll check on Gramps. Then I’ll go back to the observation car and keep those kids occupied.”
Jill put her hands to her temples. She was getting a headache herself. She’d like nothing better than to take some aspirin and spend fifteen minutes stretched out on the berth in her compartment. But she had to find Mrs. Tidsdale.
Jill looked at the dining car steward, Mr. Gridley, who’d been listening. “She didn’t come through the diner during the party,” he said. “She’d have passed right by the counter, and I’ve been here most of the time.”
The waiter nearby, putting fresh white cloths on the tables, shook his head. “I haven’t seen her, Miss McLeod, not since she left the diner during lunch. I’ll ask the kitchen crew and the other waiters, but I agree with Mr. Gridley. She didn’t come through the diner.”
Jill left the bag behind the steward’s counter and walked back to the sleeper section. In the Silver Palisade, she passed the roomettes and rounded the corner to the passageway outside the bedrooms. She knocked on the door of bedroom A. No answer. She looked up and saw Frank Nathan, walking toward her from the rear of the car.
“How was the Christmas party?” he asked.
“It went very well. The children enjoyed themselves. Mr. Nathan, when was the last time you saw Mrs. Tidsdale?”
He thought a moment. “Before we got to Glenwood. There were several folks heading up to the diner for lunch. Mrs. Tidsdale was coming from that direction. She stepped aside to let the other people pass, right near the door to my compartment. I said hello to her. She told me she had a headache and she was going to lie down.”
“She’s not answering the door.” Jill rapped again. “Mrs. Tidsdale?” She turned the handle. The door wasn’t locked. She opened it. Bedroom A was empty.
The porter shook his head. “She’s not there. I didn’t see her leave. Is there a problem?”
“I’m not sure.” Jill retraced her steps forward. As she reached roomette 2, she saw the door was ajar. Professor Kovacs was inside, papers piled around him. He looked up, then he set his papers aside and stood, opening the roomette door wider.
“Hello, Miss McLeod. A lot of coming and going this afternoon. I gather there was a party for the children. I overheard some of them talking.”
“Yes, there was. Professor, about Mrs. Tidsdale… You do know her.”
He nodded. “Grace Tidsdale and I met in nineteen forty-one, before Pearl Harbor. I was at Georgetown University and she worked in a government office. She was a widow. Grace and I had a relationship. There was a time I thought of marrying her. But…it didn’t happen. Then I met Rivka and married her. I went to Oak Ridge and then to Los Alamos.”
There was more to the story, Jill was sure. Someday she hoped to hear it. But now the problem was more immediate. “Professor Kovacs, have you seen Mrs. Tidsdale this afternoon? In the past hour or so?”
The professor frowned. “Not since we were in the dining car, when she complained of a headache and left. She said she was going to lie down. She’s not in her bedroom?”
“No, she isn’t. Thank you, Dr. Kovacs.”
Jill headed forward.
In the diner, she grabbed the bag of Christmas stockings and candy she’d left behind the counter. The steward had polled the kitchen and dining car crew. None of the waiters or chefs had seen Mrs. Tidsdale come through the car. In the Silver Hostel, she stashed the bag in her compartment, then headed for the lounge to talk with the steward behind the bar, who was polishing glasses with a cloth. He hadn’t seen Mrs. Tidsdale since she left the lounge right before lunch. Jill thanked him and continued forward, to the Silver Palace.
Jim Gaskill was in the conductor’s office at the rear of the car, a cup of coffee on his desk, talking with the brakeman. Jill stood in the doorway. The office wasn’t much bigger than her own compartment, and three people inside would make it very crowded indeed.
“Hello, Miss McLeod,” Mr. Gaskill said. “Mr. Bradshaw and I were discussing the train orders we got in Bond. Same as before—wet weather, and watch for loose and falling rocks.”
“Yes, sir, I imagine so, with all the snow we’ve had,” Jill said.
“The Christmas party was a lot of fun,” the conductor added. “I appreciate your putting that together, and I’m sure the children and their parents do, too.”
“Yes, sir. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Mr. Gaskill, we may have a missing passenger.”
The conductor frowned, the lines in his face deepening as Jill explained the situation. “Is it possible she left the train at Glenwood?”
“I don’t know,” Jill said. “We weren’t on the ground long in Glenwood, we never are. I can’t imagine why she’d get off the train during such a short stop. Mrs. Tidsdale has spent a great deal of time in the lounge, drinking. She was… Last night when she was leaving the lounge, about ten o’clock, she got turned around and headed forward, instead of back to the sleeper cars. She was singing. And weaving. She seemed to be quite intoxicated.”
“Sounds like she’s got a hollow leg,” the brakeman said.
Jill nodded. “She does seem to drink constantly. She’s also been flirting with one of the male passengers, Mr. Paynter. He’s traveling on the Silver Gull, in bedroom A. I’ve seen them together several times in the lounge, most recently this morning after breakfast. And I believe she had a drink with another male passenger, a Mr. Washburn, in his bedroom. That’s also the Silver Gull, bedroom J. There may be nothing to it, but I’m considering every possibility. If Mrs. Tidsdale didn’t get off the train and she’s not in her bedroom or in any of the common areas of the train, she may be in someone else’s compartment.”