Loco Motive

by Mary Daheim

  “Maybe,” Renie suggested, “they put the phony Willie in it and wheeled him to the baggage car.”

  “I wouldn’t want to spend time in here with a corpse.” Judith studied the room. It was neither tidy nor trashed. “Watch for anyone coming downstairs. I wonder where Wayne slept. There’s only room for two.”

  Renie took up her sentry post by the door. “Did someone say Wayne was in one of the roomettes down here?”

  “Makes sense.” Judith peeked inside a big green tote bag filled with cosmetics, hair products, apparel, and other travel accessories. “Pepper must have her purse and wallet with her. I don’t see any ID.”

  “I do,” Renie said, gesturing at the window by the lower bunk bed. “That looks like the same train info I keep by our window.”

  Judith went across the room, but paused at the side of the bed. “This must be where Willie died. He couldn’t have used the upper berth.”

  “Berth and death,” Renie remarked. “Can you reach the packet?”

  “Yes,” Judith said, “but I feel like a ghoul.”

  “Oh, coz,” Renie said with a sigh. “You’re used to it. If you had to, you’d crawl over Willie’s dead body to get at what you think is some kind of clue. Heck, you’d make your way through dozens of fatalities in a bus crash or plow over a couple of hundred earthquake victims or—”

  “Ooof! I dropped the damned packet.” She stuck her hand between the bed and the wall. “Got it. Hmm…” Judith murmured, feeling some sort of thick folder. “What’s this?”

  “Got me. I’m still on guard duty.”

  Judith removed the train info packet first before tugging at the larger item. She finally dislodged a thick, dog-eared manila envelope that bore the logo and name of Back Bay Insurance Company, Boston, Massachusetts. Holding on to the envelope and the train packet, she slid off the bed.

  “Jiggers,” Renie said under her breath. “I hear voices on the stairs. Sounds like those young women.” She slid the door almost closed, but peered through the open half inch as Tiff and Maddie came into view.

  Judith joined Renie. The two young women were still talking, their voices subdued and serious.

  “I’m at a loss,” the blond Maddie said. “What do we do with him?”

  Tiff shook her head as she opened the door to their roomette. “Beats me. We never should’ve gotten mixed up in…”

  They disappeared and closed the door behind them. “They’re not yakking about Nordquist’s,” Renie said. “Who’s ‘him’?”

  “Good question.” Judith gave the room another once-over.

  “Maybe we should get out of here.”

  “What’s with that stuff you got by the bed?”

  “I don’t know yet. There’s only one way to find out.” Judith opened the door. “Let’s go.”

  “You’re stealing that?” Renie asked, taken aback.

  “I’m borrowing it,” Judith said. “We’ll put it back later.”

  “Okay,” Renie said, “but as sometimes happens, your curiosity makes me nervous. What do you expect to find?”

  “If I knew,” Judith responded as they walked past the luggage racks, “I wouldn’t have to swipe—I mean borrow it, would I?” She stopped just short of the stairs. “Luggage. Camera. How the heck did that camera get into my suitcase?” She stared at the door to the family room. “What else did Emily brag about having collected when she ran off with Purvis’s cell?”

  Renie frowned, trying to remember. “She mentioned a game—a video game, I think. It’s been so long since I had to buy the latest high-tech toys for our kids that I don’t know what’s hot these days. Do you?”

  “I leave that up to Mike and Kristin,” Judith said. “They have computer games, handheld games, video games, and for all I know, a microchip you can insert in your head and make up your own.”

  “Gee, maybe you just invented the next generation of gaming technology,” Renie said.

  “If we could put microchips in our heads to solve mysteries, we wouldn’t be standing here like a couple of obsolete fogies. I’m still wondering what happened to those old Speed Graphic cameras reporters used.”

  “Ah!” Judith exclaimed. “Emily had a camera. I’ll bet it’s the one you dropped when the pickup collision occurred. Let’s buddy up to her.”

  Renie gasped. “Who else? Hitler? Attila the Hun? Vlad the Impaler?”

  Judith headed for the family room. “Why didn’t we look at the photos?”

  “Because we didn’t know how to do it?”

  “We should’ve tried. I’ll bet its owner is connected to the Weevil bunch.”

  “There may not be a Weevil bunch,” Renie noted, “or at least no Willie.”

  “Doesn’t matter. They wanted us to think Willie was alive.” Reaching the family room, Judith motioned for Renie to step out of sight. “You don’t want to get us off on a bad foot, do you?”

  “About now, I’d like to get off, period.” But Renie moved away toward the shower and toilet stalls.

  Emily’s mother opened the door a bare inch. “Yes?”

  “I’m Mrs. Flynn,” Judith said. “I’m sorry to bother you, Ms. Mueller, but I think your daughter has my camera. It has the last photos I took of my dear mother before she passed away.”

  The curly-haired young woman looked puzzled. “It has?”

  “Yes.” Judith suddenly realized that Courtney Mueller might have already looked at the photos. “Mother’s in the background in her wheelchair. You might not have noticed if you checked the pictures to see who the camera belonged to. It was a present from my uncle Al before he was run over by a cement mixer.”

  “I…” Courtney paused. Judith saw Emily creeping up behind her mother.

  “Yes?” Judith coaxed. “Those photos mean the world to me.”

  “Call me Courtney,” the woman said, and turned to Emily.

  “Darling, could you get the camera you found? We don’t want this lady to cry, do we?”

  “Why not?” Emily retorted. “I can cwy, too.” Proving the point, she erupted into high-pitched sobs.

  Judith winced. Renie’s obscene comment was drowned out by the earsplitting shrieks.

  “Howth dat?” Emily asked, pleased as punch.

  “Very nice,” Courtney said, “but you’re a big girl. Big girls don’t cry.”

  Emily peered at Judith through the narrow opening. “She’s a big girl. A reawee big girl. Can I thee her cwy?”

  “She might cry for being happy after you give her the camera.” Emily’s violet-blue eyes studied Judith. “You gob bibeo gamth?”

  “Video games?” Judith shook her head. “You like video games?”

  “I wove ThmackBown. Ith wethling with goob and bab guyth.” Courtney forced a smile. “Emily enjoys wrestling. Her dad wrestled in high school and college.”

  “That’s nice,” Judith said hastily. “About my camera…”

  To Judith’s surprise, Emily trotted off out of sight. One of the twins started to fuss. Courtney opened the door another inch, but Judith still couldn’t see Emily or her siblings. Their mother looked to her right. “Don’t do that to Dylan, Emily. He doesn’t need changing…oh! Oh! What a clever hiding place for the camera! Maybe we should wipe it off before we give it back to Mrs. Flynn.”

  “Yes,” Judith said, trying to remain patient. “It would be kind of you to make sure the camera’s…tidy.”

  “Of course,” Courtney agreed. “I’m sure it’s—no, no, Emily! Stop! Don’t run it under the water!” She rushed off in the direction of the sink.

  Hearing Renie groan, Judith warned her to shut up. “If Emily sees you, it could be a deal-breaker and we can kiss off the camera.”

  Both twins were bawling by the time mother and daughter returned to the door. “Here,” Courtney said, holding the camera out on a damp facecloth. “Is this one yours?”

  Judith took a good look. “Yes. Does Emily have more than one?”

  Courtney nodded. “She’s quite the little colle
ctor when it comes to technology.”

  “Thanks,” Judith said, taking the camera from Courtney. “And thank you, Emily.”

  Manners weren’t Emily’s strong suit. Her gaze was combative. “Wanna wethle wif me?”

  “Not now,” Judith replied. “Bye-bye.”

  With one last sour look, Emily shut the door.

  Judith carefully wrapped the camera in tissues and put it in her purse. “Want to guess who the other camera belongs to?”

  “You?” Renie asked as they moved on.

  “Maybe. But this model looks a lot like the one Wayne used to take pictures of Willie’s ill-fated leap, though how it ended up in my luggage baffles me.”

  “Not ‘how,’” Renie chided. “But ‘who.’ You admitted you misplaced the key after our trip to Scotland. Did you ever look inside your suitcase to see if it was tucked away someplace?”

  “No,” Judith admitted. “Maybe I should do that now.”

  “I thought you wanted to confront Pepper.”

  “I can’t do that when I don’t know where she is.”

  “She can’t be far. She’s got to be in the club or dome cars or…” Judith waved the manila envelope at Renie. “I can hardly start a conversation with her when I’ve got this in my hand, can I?”

  Renie kept a straight face. “Probably not. Though it’d make a good opening gambit if you want to get arrested.”

  “Unfortunately, Pepper is postponed,” Judith declared. “I’m taking this to our roomette. If you want to look for the key, go ahead. When you’re done and I’ve checked out the train tickets and what’s in this envelope, we can try to view the pictures.”

  “Wow,” Renie said sardonically. “Have we got entertainment or what?”

  Judith ignored the comment and headed upstairs. She almost ran into Jax, who was hurtling around the corner.

  “Oh!” Jax exclaimed. “Sorry. Mr. Peterson just told me he’s letting the trooper off so he can find the passengers we left behind in Scuttle.”

  Judith involuntarily clutched the manila envelope and the train information packet closer to her chest. “That’s a relief. I felt sorry for the old couple. I hope they’ve been inside all this time.” She stopped speaking as a sudden thought struck her. “They were in coach, right?”

  “Yes,” Jax said, regarding Judith curiously. “Is something wrong?” Judith wanted to say everything was wrong, but held her tongue. Jax had enough problems. “No, though I wondered if the senior Gundys could be related to Ms. Gundy downstairs. By the way, do you know where she is?”

  Jax shook her head. “The last time I saw Ms. Gundy was about an hour ago when Mr. Weevil was moved.”

  “Moved?” Judith said.

  “Ah—in a way,” Jax said, looking ill at ease. “We have a standard policy to abide by the survivors’ wishes, which means transporting the body to the nearest funeral home or, if that’s inconvenient, to keep the deceased on board until we reach the final destination.” She grimaced. “I’m not saying that right, but often the deceased is going home.” She grimaced again. “I mean, to where the person lives. Lived.” Jax put a hand to her head.

  “I’m doing a poor job explaining it, but usually family members or close friends make the decision.”

  Judith decided it would only further upset Jax to ask where the body would rest while still on the train. “I understand,” she said sympathetically. Cold-storage car, baggage car, or propped up in a vacant coach seat, Judith thought—it’d make no difference to Willie…or his alter ego. “Then I assume the other Gundys aren’t related to Pepper—I mean to Ms. Gundy.”

  “I don’t know.” Jax checked her watch. “I have to dash. I’m way behind.”

  Entering her room, Judith heard Jax greet Renie on the stairs. Their exchange was brief. When her cousin arrived, Judith had settled into her chair.

  “You’re the only person I know,” Renie said, tossing a luggage key on the table, “who’d hide this in a slight gap between the inner lining and the exterior.”

  “Oh.” Judith offered her cousin a sheepish smile. “I put it there after we got home from Scotland. Sometimes the pocket zippers get stuck and I can never remember which one I put the key in. I figured it’d be easier to find it that way.”

  “It would,” Renie agreed, “if you recalled where you put the damned key.”

  “Okay,” Judith admitted. “But you do weird things, too. What about a few weeks ago when you put your phone in the microwave?”

  “That,” said Renie, glaring, “was a mistake.”

  “It sure was. I didn’t realize you could defrost a phone—or call somebody on a frozen chicken drumstick.”

  “I get it,” Renie snapped. “What’s with the insurance and the tickets?”

  “I haven’t had time to look.” The train’s slight jarring movement caught her attention.

  “We’ve stopped. They’re letting Trooper Purvis off so he can find the other Gundys and the Zs.”

  Renie looked out the window. “I can’t see anything except a lonely old clapboard church. It’s not snowing here, though.”

  “We must be close to a highway,” Judith said. “Another trooper is probably waiting for Purvis in a patrol car.”

  “A patrol car? They’re going to need a patrol bus to bring four people to our next stop at Malta.”

  “Let’s assume they know what they’re doing.”

  “Let’s not. Most people don’t.”

  “I don’t see any action, either,” Judith said. “Purvis must be getting off on the other side. That’s probably where the highway is.”

  The train began moving again. Renie pointed to the manila envelope and train packet. “Well?”

  “I haven’t looked yet. I got sidetracked by Jax.” Briefly, Judith filled Renie in on Amtrak’s policy regarding an on-board passenger death. “But,” she went on, “Jax mentioned something else that bothered me. Were the Gundys wearing coats when we saw them by the motel?”

  Renie realized what Judith meant. “Maybe jackets, but not coats.”

  Leaning back in her chair, Judith nodded. “I heard Jane Z tell the old folks to bundle up and then she hustled them toward the sleeper cars. But the Gundys weren’t traveling by sleeper, and the coach section is at the other end of the train. Mr. Gundy had on a jacket and Mrs. Gundy was wearing a cardigan sweater. Not the sort of outerwear for a couple of old codgers in cold weather.”

  Renie frowned. “You think they wanted to freeze the Gundys?”

  “No, but they were in a big hurry to get them off the train. Looking back, I wonder if the Zs knew the train was about to move again.” Judith sighed. “Maybe I’m making too much of these so-called coincidences. They do happen.”

  “That’s why there’s a word for it—‘coincidences,’” Renie said. “But I have a hunch that something else is going on here. I also trust your judgment.”

  “Thanks,” Judith said, and meant it. “Okay, let’s see if the Weevil tickets are in this packet.” She found the schedule where Wolf Point’s arrival time was circled. So were Havre and Malta with question marks next to them. She handed the schedule to Renie.

  “What do you make of these marks?”

  “Wolf Point was their destination. Are the tickets in the packet?”

  “Yes,” Judith said, taking her first look. “The tickets were issued to Wilbur Weevil and two other adult passengers whose names aren’t listed. First class, accessible bedroom, and a roomette, A3.”

  Renie looked thoughtful. “That’s downstairs. I think all four of those rooms are for two people. If Wayne is in one of them, I wonder why he didn’t ask for a single—unless they booked so late that he couldn’t get one.”

  Judith flipped through the remaining information. “Just what you’d expect, same as ours. Any ideas about the circle and question marks?”

  Renie stared at the schedule. “It was between those two stops that the pickup hit the train.” She looked curiously at Judith. “It could be an innocent notation concer
ning the delayed arrival at Wolf Point. But…?”

  Judith nodded. “It could also indicate something more ominous. The pen that was used to circle those two stops is the same as the one for Wolf Point, but that only indicates the same person probably used it.”

  “Pepper?”

  “My first guess,” Judith said. “But Wayne’s a possibility.” Renie nodded. “I assume we’re thinking the same thing—one of them knew there was going to be an accident.”

  Judith took the schedule from Renie and looked at it again. “Not exactly,” she said grimly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “That there was no accident. The collision with the train was planned to cover up a murder.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Renie looked only mildly surprised. “That almost makes sense. But what happened with the pickup driver? Was he ever caught?”

  Judith sighed. “We’ve never heard a word about him. You’d think there’d be a certain buzz on the train if he’d been arrested.”

  “Maybe the state patrol or the Amtrak cops won’t make an announcement until they’re sure they’ve got the right perp.”

  “Yes, yes,” Judith said impatiently. “But…” She shook her head. “I’ve got to have some time to think this through—logically, of course.”

  Renie smiled. “Of course.”

  “Let’s check out this envelope.” Judith studied it for a moment. “It’s not new; it’s dog-eared and the little metal clasp tabs are worn off.” She removed a thick sheaf of paper. “It’s a life insurance policy.”

  “Do I win a prize if I guess it was taken out on Willie?”

  Judith scanned the first page. “Bingo. It’s a term policy, dated February thirteenth, 1977.” She noticed there seemed to be a second policy, separated from the first by a red flag. “Whoa! This is for Willie, too. The payoff is thirty mil to a company called WWF, covering accidental death, disability, and dismemberment.”

  “Sounds right for Willie,” Renie said. “What do they call it? The Piecemeal Plan?”