Loco Motive

by Mary Daheim

  Judith smiled. “I can’t do that, but maybe I can get your husband to give up his seat. I may not look it, but I’m handicapped and my…nurse is bringing me something to drink.”

  “It better not be what this bozo’s tossing down,” Irma said, shrewd blue eyes scrutinizing Judith. “You’re really a cripple?”

  “I’ve had a hip replacement,” Judith said quietly.

  Rowley attempted a leer. “Want to show me your scar?”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Irma barked. “Shut up and get up!” With her bright golden hair curled up into little peaks atop her head, she reminded Judith of a cockatoo. “My sis got one of them artificial things a while back. She’s doing all right, but she didn’t walk so good in the first place with those bowlegs of hers. Couldn’t catch a pig in an alley.”

  “Never wanted to see her scar,” Rowley mumbled, his head having sunk onto his chest. “Homelier than a gopher, whiskers and all.”

  “Never you mind about my sis!” Irma yelled. “Move your butt!”

  “Huh?” He squeezed his eyes together and wiggled his nose several times. “A gimp?” Rowley said, focusing on Judith. “She looks pretty good to me.” His lopsided grin revealed a couple of missing teeth.

  “Just get up,” Irma ordered. “C’mon, Rowley. You need to walk. You want them blood clots coming back?” Slinging her patent leather purse over one shoulder and a knitting bag over the other, she reached out to help pull her husband from the chair.

  Rowley heaved a big sigh before grasping Irma’s hands. “I already walked today,” he muttered. “All the way to that creek. They got some peculiar notions about fishing around here. One of them fellas couldn’t stand up on his own two feet, let alone cast a line.”

  “A damned-fool stunt on your part,” Irma said as Rowley grunted a couple of times before he finally stood up. “That was hours ago. You’re lucky the train didn’t leave you stranded.”

  “Pshaw!” Rowley sputtered, narrowly missing Judith with a spray of saliva. “We wasn’t going anywhere with all that mess on the tracks.” He leaned on Irma, but didn’t move. “We ain’t going anywhere now,” he said, peering out the window. “Where the heck are we?”

  “We’re still in this one-horse town, waiting for that engine.” Rowley frowned. “What Injun? Is this where Custer had his last stand?”

  Irma shook her head and turned to Judith, who was making sure Rowley wasn’t leaving any undesirable evidence of his occupancy on the seat. “Thanks, hon,” Irma said. “Pay no mind to him. He’s been seeing things even before he started swigging down that damnable liquor.” She punched her husband’s upper arm. “Let’s go. Walk!”

  As the couple moved awkwardly toward the coach car, Judith sat down and placed her handbag on Irma’s vacant chair. Only a couple of minutes passed before Renie appeared with their drinks.

  “You did it,” she said with a big grin. “Nice work, coz. Did you have to arm-wrestle somebody for these chairs?”

  “I didn’t, but the wife of the husband who was blotto practically had to put him in a headlock to get him back to their coach seats.” Judith accepted the already poured Scotch from Renie and laughed softly. “Irma—the wife—had made fried chicken to eat on board. What does that remind you of?”

  Renie laughed. “Our family picnics with Grandma and Grandpa Grover. We never went anywhere without our own food because we couldn’t afford restaurants. Grandpa insisted on eating in cemeteries because he hated hot weather and wanted to sit on the cold tombstones. There was always running water nearby and big shade trees.”

  Judith nodded. “He insisted graveyards were much quieter than picnic areas. It was easier for Grandma to set everything on the flat stone markers. We always had fried chicken, unless we were on the road long enough to eat two meals. Then it was sandwiches and whatever fruit Grandma and Grandpa had in season from their trees in the backyard.” She paused, thinking of how much fun the family had managed to have, even on the cheap. “The only surviving tree in the backyard is the cherry. After our grandparents and my father died, Mother couldn’t take care of the others on her own.”

  “I know.” Renie’s smile was bittersweet. “Apple, pear, peach, apricot, plum—and cherry. There was an exotic one, too. What was it?”

  “Figs,” Judith replied promptly. “Don’t you remember how Mr. Tweedy would steal them when he lived on the other side of the back fence? Grandpa almost killed him.”

  “Mr. Tweedy could run faster,” Renie said after taking a sip of Canadian whiskey.

  “So? Aren’t you going to ask the inevitable?”

  “That walk down memory lane distracted me.” Judith cocked her head at Renie.

  “Well?”

  “Not much to report. The Cowboy Hats were there. So were those two young women we saw in the dining car. They came down just as I was coming back up. I don’t think they recognized me.”

  “That’s it?”

  “What did you expect?” Renie retorted. “A police lineup?” Judith shook her head.

  “Hardly. But I figured the state trooper would ask me more questions. I wonder what happened after he talked to his superiors.”

  “Maybe he tried to find you, but we weren’t in our room. Gosh, he might show up here and arrest you in front of all these respectable people.”

  “Not funny.” Judith noticed that the snow was letting up. “We can finally see something outside.”

  “Such as?” Renie asked, looking outside. “There’s nothing to see.”

  Judith pointed at the tavern. “A couple just came out.”

  “Wow. Shall I take notes?”

  Judith ignored the remark. “The woman is going in one direction and the man in the other. What’s the shortest way around the train?”

  “Is this a math puzzle? You know I never got beyond long division. In fact, I never got long division.”

  “To cross the tracks,” Judith said, exasperated.

  Renie assumed a thoughtful look. “I like riddles. Why did the drunkards cross the tracks?”

  “Would you please stop—”

  Renie held up a hand. “Wait. I’ve got it. To get to the other side.” She feigned a triumphant expression, but sobered quickly.

  “I see your point. As I recall, we’re toward the front of the train. Two engines, but the damaged one probably has been detached. Then maybe some kind of support car, baggage car, crew car, two sleepers, dining car, dome car, maybe three or four coach cars, and one at the end that’s used as a view and snack car for coach passengers. The residents of Scuttle would probably have to walk at least a city block to get across the tracks. Dare I ask why you want to know?”

  “Can we can get off the train instead of sitting here like lumps?” Renie looked taken aback. “With snow on the ground? Maybe ice? Why would you do that?”

  “I want to find out if Joe and Bill are set for tomorrow’s flight. I’d also like to make sure everything’s okay at home, including Mother. Will you call Bill?”

  “Are you insane? Bill’s worse than Aunt Gert about phone calls.”

  “True,” Judith allowed. “Maybe they won’t let us off.” She checked her watch. “It’s after six. We don’t have much time before dinner.”

  “If you must phone Joe, go between the cars and ask somebody to open a door so you can at least stick your head outside.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Judith said. “Where’s the best place to do it?”

  Renie motioned toward the diner. “Somebody there can open it.”

  Judith handed Renie her drink, took out her cell, and set her handbag on the seat. Between the cars, she peered into the diner. Earl was serving desserts at the nearest table. When he finished, Judith opened the door and called his name. “You may not recognize me,” she began, “but at lunch you—”

  Earl smiled. “The tomato lady. Did you miss your dinner call?”

  “Ours is six-thirty,” Judith replied. “Could you open the door between these cars? I want to call my husband
to ask about my elderly mother. I assume we’re not allowed to get off the train, is that right?”

  Earl made a face. “Yes, but that’s not stopping some folks. We may be moving on in the next half hour or so. If they aren’t back by then, they’ve got a long wait for the next Empire Builder.”

  Earl led the way. It took only a moment for him to open the outer door. “Thanks,” Judith said. “I appreciate your extra effort.”

  “No trouble. I’ll set the step outside, but don’t stray, Mrs….”

  “Flynn,” Judith said.

  “Got it, Mrs. Flynn.” He was putting the step down when the Cowboy Hats entered from the dome car. They glanced at Judith before speaking to Earl.

  “Are we too early for the six-thirty dinner?” the man asked. The waiter turned around.

  “Five minutes,” he said cordially.

  “One couple didn’t want dessert. You can wait here until the table is cleared.”

  “Thanks,” the woman said, with another glance at Judith.

  “Aren’t you in the same sleeper we are?”

  Judith remembered that their name was Johnston. “Yes. My cousin and I are on the other side of the Kloppenburgs.”

  Mrs. Johnston seemed amused. “Is that their name? We haven’t seen or heard anything out of that roomette. I thought it was empty.”

  “They keep to themselves,” Judith said. “They must have food sent in.” She turned to Earl, who was starting back into the dining car. “Do you know anything about the Kloppenburgs next to our compartment?”

  Earl frowned. “Kloppenburgs? Oh—Conrad and Lily in A10. Easier to remember their first names. Yes, they’ve had meals delivered. Some folks like to stay put.”

  Jack Johnson pointed at the door. “Smoke break?”

  “Not officially,” Earl replied. “But don’t wander off.” The waiter continued on his way.”

  Jack took his wife’s hand. “Come on, Rosie. Let’s go.”

  Rosie hung back. “It’s still snowing. I can wait.”

  Jack shrugged. “Okay. You can get us seated.” He doffed his ten-gallon hat to Judith, smoothed his sideburns, put the hat back on, and stepped onto the ground.

  Earl returned to the diner. Judith cautiously descended onto the step. The cell informed her that she’d missed a call from Mike. Maternal panic set in. Her fingers were stiffening from the below-freezing temperature, so it took her four tries to retrieve the message. “Ma,” Mike’s recorded voice said, “you may not get this right away, but Pa said none of my Willie stuff is at your house. Did you put it somewhere he wouldn’t check? No rush, but the boys are sulking.”

  The call had come through at 3:25 p.m. Judith didn’t know if that was Pacific or mountain time. She wondered how thoroughly Joe had looked for the missing items. It was a big house, and she knew that like with Joe, as with most men, if something wasn’t tweaking his nose, he wouldn’t find it.

  Shivering from the cold, she had trouble calling Mike back. She misdialed twice, wiped snowflakes off her cheeks, and noticed that Mr. Cowboy Hat—or Jack Johnston—was strolling around while he smoked and seemed to have his gaze fixed on the motel across the street.

  After finally punching in the right number, she got voice mail. Heaving a sigh, Judith suggested that if Kristin was coming into town soon, she could stop by and look for the lost items. If anyone could find them—or the Rhinemaidens’ lost gold—it’d be Brunhild McMonigle.

  Judith hesitated before calling Joe. Maybe she’d try his cell. It was almost five-thirty at home, guest check-in time and social hour preparations. She didn’t want to bother Arlene. She entered Joe’s number. He answered on the third ring.

  “Just touching base,” Judith said. “We’re stuck in Montana.”

  “What?” he asked. “You’re breaking up.”

  She spoke louder. “We’re stuck in Montana. The train was hit by a truck.”

  “Stuck? Truck? You’re stuck in a truck?”

  Joe’s voice was coming through loud and clear. Frustrated, Judith shouted. “The truck struck the train.” She winced. “Never mind. How are you?”

  “Fine,” Joe said, though Judith wasn’t sure if he’d actually heard her. “Hey,” he went on, “I’m pulling into the driveway. You okay?”

  “Yes. And Mother?”

  “A murder? Oh God, please don’t tell—”

  “No! No! Mother. How is she?”

  “Fine,” Joe said repeated. “Bill and I are all set for takeoff. By the way, Justin phoned you this morning. When you get a better signal, call him, okay?”

  Judith wondered if Justin had heard about Willie’s death. Then she realized that if he’d called in the morning, his uncle would’ve still been alive.

  “I’ll try,” Judith said.

  “Fine.”

  Judith’s teeth were chattering. “D-d-do you have J-J-Justin’s number?” she asked, realizing that she hadn’t brought it with her.

  “Jumper? Sorry. I can’t hear you. Here comes Carl. He’s taking some brownies Arlene baked to Gruesome Gertie. See you soon.” Joe rang off.

  Judith angrily snapped the phone shut. At least the snow had stopped. She’d started back inside when she realized Jack Johnston was nowhere in sight. The only sign of life in any direction was a man in a parka walking by the motel. To hell with Mr. Hat, she thought, and stepped into the train.

  “Aha!” Renie exclaimed. “I was starting to worry. They called us for dinner. It’s after six-thirty. I’m starving.”

  “Oh.” Judith took her drink and handbag from Renie. “Thanks.”

  “What’s wrong?” Renie opened the diner’s door. “You look traumatized.”

  “I’m just cold,” Judith insisted as Earl beckoned them to a table in the middle of the car.

  “Did that work for you?” he asked as Judith and Renie sat down.

  “The reception on my husband’s end was poor,” Judith replied, “but at least I got to talk to him.”

  Earl nodded. “You can’t predict how the signals work, especially in bad weather. I’ll be back after you’ve made your meal choices.”

  “Duck!” Renie exclaimed, looking at the list of entrées. “Yum!”

  “Sounds good,” Judith said, putting the menu aside.

  Renie scowled at Judith. “You haven’t looked at the menu. What now?”

  “Mrs. Hat.” Judith nodded discreetly across the aisle and down one table.

  “She came in just ahead of me. Why do you care?”

  “Mr. Hat—Mr. Johnston—is Jack,” Judith whispered. “She’s Rosie. He got off to smoke while I was outside. I never saw him get back on.”

  “So?” Renie said. “He’s probably stretching his legs.”

  “Maybe,” Judith said grudgingly, “but he kept staring at the motel.”

  Renie peered outside. “What else could he stare at? I don’t see the Statue of Liberty or the Mona Lisa. Except for a couple of kids making a snowman—check that, a snow woman—by the motel, I don’t see any riveting sights.”

  “Okay, okay,” Judith said, with a discreet look at Rosie Johnston. “She doesn’t seem worried.”

  “Nor am I,” Renie said, suddenly wide-eyed as she stared out the window. “I think those kids are making a snow hooker. Double-D boobs and everything but a beaded bag.”

  Judith glanced outside. “Kids these days. But appropriate for a motel.”

  “This town’s too small for hookers,” Renie said. “I’ll bet they’re all amateurs. A pimp in Scuttle somehow doesn’t seem…uh-oh,” she said under her breath. “We may have dinner partners.”

  Judith leaned around Renie to see the newcomers and did a double take. “The Zs,” she gasped, recognizing the mysterious thirtysomething couple who’d arrived unexpectedly at the B&B. “They’re here, too!”

  But the Zs were ushered to the table across from Rosie Johnston, who acknowledged the new arrivals with a brief greeting.

  Renie was puzzled. “The Zs? Where are the Zuiders? Oh, I know—they�
��re outside with Mr. Cowboy Hat. When traveling, the Zuiders Zee everything along the way, like that zeedy motel.”

  “Really,” Judith said earnestly, “I may kill you before we get to Boston. You’re acting like a ditzy sixth grader. What next? You turn into potty-mouth?”

  “It’s my defense mechanism,” Renie replied. “It shifted into gear the moment you saw Wee Willie Weevil wheeling his way to the twain.” She groaned and shook her head.

  “You see? I can’t help it, no more than you can stop obsessing about homicides.”

  Judith’s shoulders slumped. “You’re right. Sorry.”

  The cousins were silent for a few moments, though Judith had to forcibly restrain herself from looking at Rosie and the Zs. Renie finally spoke. “Go ahead, tell me about the Zs before you implode.”

  “Did I tell you they stayed at the B&B?”

  Renie shook her head. “Not that I recall. Nor have you told me what Joe said. Are the husbands ready to fly, fly away?”

  “Yes. Joe came through fine, but he couldn’t hear me very well.”

  “He’s a husband. They never can. So what?”

  “I mean there was a problem with—”

  “Skip it. Here comes Earl.” Renie grinned at the waiter.

  “Quack, quack.” She pointed to Judith. “That means for both of us.”

  Earl smiled obligingly. “Shall I start you with salads?”

  Judith spoke up before Renie could make another wacky response. “Yes, with blue cheese dressing.” She hesitated, but couldn’t refrain from inquiring about the Zs. “Do you know where the couple across from Mrs. Johnston got on?”

  Earl eyed the pair discreetly. “They were here for lunch, but not for breakfast. That doesn’t mean they couldn’t have come aboard earlier. Some folks skip breakfast. I’d better see to my other passengers.”

  As Earl moved on, Renie seemed bemused. “I might find this more interesting if I knew how you know the Z-zeers.”

  “I tried to,” Judith said, “but you interrupted asking about Joe and Bill.”

  “I know our husbands. I don’t know the couple across the aisle.”

  “Fair enough,” Judith allowed, still speaking quietly. “They checked in…Wednesday night? I’ve lost track of time. Too hectic. They didn’t have a reservation.” She paused to find a pen in her purse and spelled the name on a napkin: ZYZZYVA. “It’s pronounced Zee-zee-vah.”