by Janet Dawson
“Where are we now?” Mrs. Constanza asked Jill after she’d made an eight o’clock reservation for the opera singer and his wife. “It’s so beautiful, with all the snow and the ice on the river.”
“We just passed State Bridge and Yarmony.” Jill looked at her watch. “In about twenty minutes we should be near a place called Radium, and then we go into Gore Canyon, which is very beautiful. I recommend that you go up to the Vista-Dome. You should be able to see most of the canyon before the sun goes down. This late in December, that will be about a quarter to five.”
Mike Scolari greeted her at the top of the stairs leading to the Vista-Dome. “No sign of Mrs. Tidsdale?”
“No. In the meantime, I’m making dinner reservations. You’re getting off in Denver. Did you want something earlier, for you and your grandfather?”
“I’ll have the porter bring some food around five-thirty. I’m heading back to our compartment. I seem to have reached my limits for entertaining kids. George left a while back and the girls are looking at the scenery.”
He headed down the stairs. Jill went to the front of the Vista-Dome, where Emily was crowded into the front seat with Nan and Cathy.
“Did you find Tidsy?” Emily asked, jumping to her feet. When Jill shook her head, Emily’s eyes filled with tears. “What if something awful happened to her, like what happened to my daddy? I thought she was kind of strange at first, but I got used to her. And I like her. What are we going to do? About me? Tidsy was supposed to make sure I get to Denver all right.”
Jill set down the binder, knelt, and put her arms around Emily. She hugged the little girl close, then leaned back and looked at Emily’s tear-stained face. “I don’t know what’s happened to Mrs. Tidsdale, but we’ll find out. And I’ll make sure you get to Denver all right. We get into Union Station at seven o’clock. That’s just a few hours. I’ll bet your grandma and your Uncle Robert will be there to meet you. In the meantime, I’m really behind my schedule. Will you help me make dinner reservations? Let’s do that, and then we’ll have dinner in the diner.”
Emily brushed the tears from her eyes. “Okay. It’s those cards, right? Different colors for different times?”
“That’s right.” Jill picked up the binder. “On the second day out the colors are different for the Chef’s Early Dinner, light blue for four-fifteen and yellow for five. For the other times, the colors are the same, red for six o’clock, white for seven o’clock, and blue for eight o’clock.”
A man sitting nearby smiled and said, “We’ll take a white card, then, for seven o’clock.”
“Certainly, sir.” Jill filled out the card. Then she and Emily went down the stairs. They left the observation car, walking forward through the Silver Rapids and Silver Pine. Emily insisted on holding the binder as they made their way along the aisles of the sleeper cars, while Jill talked with passengers and distributed the cards. There were fewer reservations for this second night on the train, because so many of the passengers were getting off in Denver.
When they reached the Silver Palisade, Frank Nathan was near the vestibule, at the door of the clean linen locker. He smiled as he shut the door. “Have you got an assistant?”
“Yes, Emily’s helping me.”
Jill and Emily rounded the corner. Mike Scolari was at the doorway of bedroom F, talking with Ed Benson, who was showing off his camera. “I got this Nikon earlier this year and I really like it.”
“I was admiring the camera when you were back in the observation car,” Mike said, hefting the camera. “Thanks for letting me take a look at it. My camera is a Leica but it’s pretty old.” He smiled at Jill and Emily. “Dinner reservation time.”
“That’s right.” Jill glanced down at Emily. “I’ve already made a reservation for the Bensons. The next bedroom is D. That’s Mrs. Clive.”
Emily shifted the binder from one arm to the other. “Is she that crabby lady who’s been fussing at Billy and Chip?”
Crabby, indeed, Jill thought, agreeing with Emily’s characterization.
“Crabby lady is right,” Ed Benson said with a sigh. “She’s been complaining about my boys since she got on the train. I think she went to the lounge. Haven’t seen her come back.”
Jill tapped on the door, but there was no answer. Mrs. Clive had not returned from the lounge. Bedroom C was vacant for now, since Mrs. Tatum left the train in Grand Junction. It was likely another passenger would be traveling in that room once the train left Denver. Jill knocked on the door of bedroom B.
“Oh, sure, I’ll take a six o’clock reservation,” Mrs. Loomis said when she opened the door. Jill let Emily fill out the red card.
Frank walked past them, heading for the front of the car, then he stopped as Norma Benson called to him. “I’m afraid Billy spilled something. We need some clean towels.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll get those for you.” Frank retraced his steps to the clean linen locker at the rear of the car.
Jill and Emily rounded the corner at bedroom A, heading into the aisle between the roomettes. Jill tapped on the door of number 10, dreading the response from the unpleasant Mr. Smith. “Did you want a dinner reservation, sir?” she asked when he opened the door.
“God damn it…” he began.
“You shouldn’t say bad words like that,” Emily said. She crowded closer and looked past Mr. Smith into his roomette. “You’re messy, too. You have a lot of stuff in there.”
“Mind your own business, you little brat.” He glared down at her and shut the door with a bang, before Jill could see the mess that Emily was talking about.
Mrs. Barlow appeared in the doorway of roomette 9. “That nasty man. Doesn’t have a pleasant word to say to anyone, just swears or calls the porter names. I just can’t abide rude people. And he’s so odd, holed up in that roomette, or skulking around the corridors. Are you making dinner reservations, dear? Good, I’m famished. You wouldn’t think so, with the lunch I had. But traveling on trains makes me hungry. I think I’ll take an early reservation tonight, at six o’clock. I’m getting off the train later this evening, you know, in Akron, Colorado.”
“Yes, Mrs. Barlow, I remember. You’re spending Christmas with your son and his family. So let’s make a six o’clock reservation, Emily.” The little girl pulled a red card from the binder and Jill filled it out, handing it to Mrs. Barlow.
“Thank you, dear.” Mrs. Barlow smiled. “You’ll make a fine Zephyrette some day.”
“Maybe I will be a Zephyrette,” Emily said. “I like riding on trains.”
They moved on to the next roomette, which was occupied by a middle-aged man who’d boarded the train in Helper, Utah. While Emily asked him if he’d like to make a dinner reservation, Jill thought back to what Mrs. Barlow had said about Mr. Smith. Ever since he’d boarded the train in Sacramento, he’d stayed mostly in his roomette. But not always. He’d moved around the train as well.
Jill had seen Mr. Smith on the Silver Gull that morning, after breakfast, when Si Lovell had bumped into the man and Mr. Smith had turned on him, swearing and calling him names. At the time Jill assumed that Mr. Smith was returning from breakfast. And Mr. Smith could fit the description of the man who’d supposedly entered the Scolaris’ compartment by mistake.
There had been three thefts aboard the train—three that they knew of—all on different sleeper cars, items taken while people were in the diner, lounge, or observation car. What if Mr. Smith…?
Emily tugged on Jill’s sleeve, interrupting her speculation about the thief. “Miss McLeod, we need a red card, for a six o’clock reservation.”
Jill filled out the card and gave it to the man. Then they continued down the aisle. They worked their way to the end of the aisle. Roomette 1 was empty, the passenger having left the train in Glenwood Springs. Jill knocked on the door of number 2, Dr. Kovacs’s roomette. There was no answer. She tapped again.
“I guess he’s not there,” Emily said.
“Maybe he’s gone forward to the lounge,” Jill s
aid. “We didn’t run into him walking back to the observation car.”
The train suddenly swayed as it moved into a curve and the pocket door to roomette 2 slid open. It hadn’t been closed all the way. Jill reached for the handle so she could shut the door. Then she saw Dr. Kovacs slumped in the seat, his head tilted toward the window. The papers that were usually on the seat next to the professor were strewn on the floor. His glasses were on top of them.
“The professor’s here after all. He’s napping.” Jill reached for his glasses, picking them up by one of the earpieces. “I’ll just leave these glasses on the seat. We wouldn’t want the professor to step on them when he wakes up.”
The train came out of the curve as Jill set the glasses on the seat. Then she stared. The professor’s head had shifted with the movement of the train. His eyes were open. He wasn’t asleep. He was… No, that couldn’t be.
Chapter Seventeen
Jill stepped into the roomette and reached for Laszlo Kovacs’s hand. It was cold and she could not find a pulse. The professor was dead.
She fought down shock and tried to be calm and professional. The professor could have had a heart attack. Or could it be something else? She moved closer, looking for any signs of injury. Then, on the front of his shirt, she saw blood staining the area around a small tear. Blood, and right above the heart.
He’s been stabbed, she thought. She tried and failed to banish the image of a knife plunging into his chest. Dr. Kovacs had been murdered.
Emily stood in the doorway. “Is something wrong with the professor? Let me see.”
Jill straightened and blocked the door, taking the binder from Emily. “No! Go find Frank. He’s back in Billy’s bedroom. Go as fast you can.”
Emily darted down the passageway. Jill took a deep breath, trying to slow the rapid beating of her heart. She discarded the dinner reservation binder on the seat in the empty roomette. Then Frank Nathan rounded the corner, followed by Ed Benson and Mike Scolari. They hurried toward her.
“Where’s Emily?”
“With Norma and the boys,” Ed Benson said.
“Emily says something’s wrong with Dr. Kovacs,” Frank said.
“He’s dead,” Jill said, keeping her voice low.
“Heart attack?” Mike asked.
Jill shook her head. “I think he’s been murdered. There’s blood on his shirt. Go find the conductor.”
“Good Lord.” Frank stared inside the roomette, then he spun around and headed forward.
Ed Benson stepped into the compartment, knelt, and peered over for a close look at the professor’s body. “You’re right. He’s been stabbed in the heart. We’ve got to secure the scene and take pictures. I’ll get my camera.” He backed out into the passageway and Jill shut the door of roomette 2.
“It’s secured for now. As for anything else, we wait for the conductor. He’s like the captain of the ship. He gives the orders. But yes, get your camera. I’m sure he’ll want pictures.”
“Are you okay?” Mike asked as Ed Benson headed back to his quarters.
Jill nodded. She had succeeded in slowing her breathing. “It’s just such a shock. But I’ll be all right. Oh, Mike, he was such a nice man.”
He reached for her hand and squeezed it. She squeezed his, glad he was there. They stood there for a moment. Then Ed Benson returned with his camera, followed soon after by Mr. Gaskill and Frank Nathan.
The conductor opened the door to roomette 2 and stood looking down at the professor’s body. “Well, it never rains but it pours. First a thief. Then a missing passenger. Now a murder. And I thought this was going to be a nice, quiet holiday run.”
Mr. Gaskill backed out of the roomette and turned to Ed Benson, who was standing nearby with his camera. “You, sir, with the camera, I’m sure we will need some pictures for evidence. Though I don’t know a damn thing about investigating a crime.”
Mr. Benson took the cap off the camera lens. “I do. I’m an investigator. I work in insurance now, checking out claims. During the war I was an MP, military police. I did a lot of investigative work then.”
“Ever investigate any murders?”
“No, sir. Some unexplained deaths, but not murders. I know we should leave the body where it is and photograph it to preserve visual evidence.”
“Sounds like you’re the closest thing we have to a detective,” the conductor said. “Go ahead and photograph the body and the roomette. Once you’re finished with your picture-taking, we’ll shut the door and leave it until we get to the next town.”
Jill had moved out of the way into the vacant roomette, number 1, across the hall. The conductor joined her as Mr. Benson went into roomette 2 and began taking photographs, the camera flashing rapidly as he moved in close for shots.
“I’d better check on Gramps,” Mike said. “I’ll talk with you later.” He headed forward, toward the Silver Gull. Just then a family from the Silver Pine came through the car and stopped, curious. The conductor stepped into the passageway and shut the door to roomette 2. He spoke with the passengers and they continued forward. Jill saw a light blue card in the man’s hand and realized the family was heading for the diner.
Jill looked at her watch. It was ten past four. The California Zephyr had entered Gore Canyon, with its beautiful rugged scenery, remote and forbidding, too, in its winter isolation. The train moved slowly along the sinuous curve of the Colorado River, which had narrowed as they traveled farther upstream. Right now they were close to the river, white water rushing between ice-clad boulders, pines marching up the steep slopes on the other side, a landscape of white, gray, and dark green.
“When was the last time you saw Dr. Kovacs alive?” the conductor asked as he returned to roomette 1.
Jill turned from the window. “It was when we were looking for Mrs. Tidsdale. He knew her, you see, during the war. I gather from what he told me that they had a romantic relationship. He was very concerned to hear that she’s missing. There’s something else you should know. Mrs. Cole, traveling in compartment B on the Silver Gull, she’s Dr. Kovacs’s ex-wife.”
“Well, that’s certainly interesting. Did Dr. Kovacs tell you anything about Mrs. Cole that might be important?”
“We talked right after lunch, when I was heading for my compartment to get the bag of stockings and candy for the Christmas party. Dr. Kovacs told me about his marriage to Mrs. Cole. They were both refugees who came to the United States just before the war. They divorced toward the end of the war.”
“And this professor, where did he teach?” the conductor asked.
“At the University of California in Berkeley,” Jill said. “That’s where I met him, at a talk he gave when I was an undergraduate. Dr. Kovacs was a physicist. During the war he worked on the Manhattan Project, at Oak Ridge, Tennessee, and then Los Alamos, New Mexico.”
“The atomic bomb.” Mr. Gaskill considered this. “Interesting, but I’m not sure how it relates to this murder. It may just be a coincidence that the Coles are on the train at the same time as Dr. Kovacs.”
The door to roomette 2 opened and Mr. Benson came out. “I’m finished with the pictures.”
“Good.” The conductor turned to Frank Nathan, who had moved out of the way, to his small porter’s compartment next to roomette 2. “Stay here and keep an eye on that roomette. Don’t let anyone go inside.”
“Yes, sir,” the porter said.
“I was telling Mr. Gaskill about Los Alamos,” Jill said. “The Bensons were there, too.”
“That’s where I was in the MPs,” Ed Benson said. “My wife was a WAC, driving in the motor pool. We both remember the professor but he didn’t remember us. I’d seen his wife, too, that redhead who’s Mrs. Cole now. My wife is sure she’s seen Mr. Cole before, at Los Alamos. But Miss McLeod here says she overheard him say he’d never been to New Mexico. Maybe Norma can jog her memory, figure out where she’s seen that guy before.”
“New Mexico keeps cropping up,” Mr. Gaskill said. “Can you recall anyt
hing else that might be important?”
Jill thought for a moment as the train entered one of the many tunnels in Gore Canyon. After a few seconds of darkness, the Zephyr emerged into the waning light. Dusk came quickly in the canyon.
“Dr. Kovacs knew Mr. Paynter, the man traveling in bedroom A on the Silver Gull,” Jill said. “Or at least he’d seen him before. When Mr. Paynter came into the diner during lunch, the professor seemed troubled at the sight of him. When I talked with the professor after lunch, he admitted that he’d seen Mr. Paynter somewhere before. And he…” She stopped, remembering the rest of the conversation. “Dr. Kovacs gave me an envelope. He asked me to keep it until we got to Denver. He didn’t say what was in it, just that he’d written down some things and he’d explain when we got to Denver.”
“Where’s the envelope now?” the conductor said.
“In my compartment. I left it there when I got the bag of things for the party.”
“I want to take a look at it.” Mr. Gaskill turned to Mr. Benson. “Please ask your wife to think hard about Mr. Cole and where she’s seen him.”
Ed Benson nodded and turned, heading back toward the Bensons’ bedrooms at the rear of the car. The conductor and Jill walked forward, through the Silver Gull and the dining car, where the first seating was underway. A family from the chair cars was there, talking with Mr. Gridley, the steward.
“The Zephyrette didn’t come around and make reservations,” the man said.
“I’m so sorry,” Jill said. “We’ve had a delay and I didn’t get to the chair cars.”
“Just seat people as they come in, whether they have a reservation or not,” the conductor told the steward. He led the way down the passage that ran alongside the kitchen and they went through the vestibule to the Silver Hostel.
Jill opened the door to her compartment and stepped inside the narrow space. Where had she put the envelope? She’d tossed it onto the bench seat, next to the Agatha Christie novel, and turned away, intent on getting the bag of candy and stockings for the Christmas party. The book was there, on the orange upholstery, just below the window. But she didn’t see the envelope. Jill picked up the book. Had she tucked the envelope inside the book? No, it wasn’t there. She stuck her hand down in the spaces at the back and sides of the seat.