by Mary Daheim
“And Mr. Cowboy Hat changed his appearance after he went out to have a cigarette. Curiouser and curiouser, as Alice would say.”
“Definitely,” Judith agreed. “I feel as if I fell down the rabbit hole. I wish I could peer into the looking glass and see something helpful. At the moment, we’re playing a waiting game.”
“Do you know what we’re waiting for?”
Judith sighed wearily. “No, but we’ll find out when it happens. And it will happen. I can feel it.”
The cousins sat in silence for a few minutes. Renie picked up her Roosevelt book, put it down, and took out a crossword puzzle magazine she’d brought along.
“I’ll work on my own brainteaser. What’s a six-letter word for ‘baffle’?”
“How about ‘Judith’?”
“Oh—it’s ‘puzzle,’” Renie said. “I got it by going the other way.”
“Good for—” Judith stopped. “Maybe that’s what I should do—look at this mess from another angle. What if the dead man really was Willie?”
Renie set her puzzle aside. “Justin’s mother is lying?”
“No,” Judith said. “Maybe someone told her Willie died five years ago. What if he’d left his estate to Justin or Germaine? We know the Weevils were quarrelsome. Willie may’ve changed his will whenever he got mad at a legatee. Whoever was disinherited might produce an older version to claim the estate.”
“It wouldn’t be a first,” Renie allowed.
Jax ran by, heading for the end of the car. Judith saw her through the window in the door. “What now?” she murmured, getting up and going to open the door. “Jax?” she said, leaning into the corridor as the attendant knocked on the Kloppenburgs’ door.
Jax pointed up at the glowing call light. “I don’t know.” The door opened and she disappeared inside.
“Well?” Renie said.
Judith shrugged. “The Kloppenburgs’ call light’s on,” she explained, leaving the door open before returning to her chair.
“It must be important or they wouldn’t summon Jax.”
“Maybe they poked the wrong button,” Renie said. “Or they’re—uh-oh!”
The cousins both turned toward the corridor as Jax again raced by.
“My turn,” Renie said, getting up to see where Jax was going.
“She’s knocking on the Chans’ door. A medical emergency?”
“Ah!” Judith exclaimed. “Maybe we can help.”
“Coz,” Renie began as Judith joined her, “for once, could you rein in your rampant curiosity?”
“I’m serious,” Judith said, trying to edge past Renie, who was blocking the doorway.
“I am accredited for first aid by the Red Cross.”
“And I’m Nurse Ratched,” Renie said, barring Judith’s way.
“Stay put. You can find out later what’s going on.”
As if on cue, Matt Chan entered the corridor carrying his medical kit. He nodded curtly as he moved past the cousins with Jax at his heels. She looked anxious, but didn’t take her eyes off of Matt’s back. Laurie exited the Chans’ roomette and passed the cousins without a glance in their direction. As the trio entered the Kloppenburgs’ room, Judith peered around Renie to see Jim and Sharon Downey coming out of their compartment.
“What’s happening?” Jim asked.
“Somebody next door needs a doctor,” Renie said. “Matt could open up a practice on this train.”
Sharon shook her head. “Honestly, if we have any more crises on this trip, I’m never leaving our house again.”
A moment later, Laurie suddenly burst into the corridor. Judith edged around Renie, putting out a hand to detain Laurie. “Who’s sick?” she asked.
Laurie’s face was white and her hands shook. “Does it matter? It’s all my fault.” She took a single step and collapsed at Jim Downey’s feet.
Chapter Twelve
Jim Downey knelt next to the unconscious young woman. “Good God,” he cried, “what now?”
Sharon Downey’s manner was detached as she studied Laurie’s motionless form. “That woman’s a head case. I’ve thought so from the start. I think I’ll enjoy being a hermit and avoiding further contact with the rest of the world.”
Jim shot his wife a sharp look. “Knock it off. What should we do?”
Judith could see that Laurie was breathing. “We could wait for Jax or Matt, but if she simply fainted, we ought to move her where she can lie down.” A quick glance into the Downey and Chan roomettes indicated that neither had been made up for the night. Judith looked at Sharon. “Do you have any brandy?”
“No,” Sharon replied, her tone less harsh. “I’ll get some from the club car.”
Laurie’s eyes slowly opened. “Ohhh…” She grimaced and closed her eyes again.
“I’m…so…sorry.”
Jim put his arm under her shoulders. “Can you sit up?”
The only response was a soft, kittenlike moan.
Sharon sighed. “Brandy or no brandy?” she asked of no one in particular.
Jim looked at his wife. “Your call. But we can’t leave her here.” With obvious effort, Laurie finally spoke. “Sorry. I’ll be okay.” Jim studied Laurie’s face. “You sure?”
Laurie nodded. “Just help me get up.”
“Hang on.” Jim easily lifted Laurie into a standing position. “It’s a good thing you can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds.”
“A hundred and six,” Laurie said, sounding more like herself. Sharon and Renie were still in the doorway. “I’ll get the brandy,” Sharon said. “If Laurie doesn’t need it, I’ll drink it myself.”
“I’ll go, too,” Renie volunteered. “Coz and I could use a pick-me-up.”
“Let’s get drunk,” Sharon said, “and pretend we’re in a peaceful place, like Iraq or Afghanistan or…” Her voice faded as she and Renie headed for the bar.
Judith followed Jim and Laurie into the Chans’ roomette.
“Do you want to lie down?” Jim asked.
“I’ll be all right,” Laurie said softly. “Thanks.”
“Do you know who had the medical emergency?” Judith asked.
“Mrs. Kloppenburg.”
“Oh.” Judith gazed at Laurie, who had curled up into a ball. Fetal position, she thought, escaping to the sanctuary of the womb. “Do you want one of us to stay with you until Matt gets back?”
“No,” Laurie said, her voice more emphatic. “I’m fine.”
“Okay,” Judith said. “You know where to find us.” As she exited the roomette she asked Jim if he’d keep an eye on Laurie.
“Sure,” he said, from his roomette doorway. “Sharon’s speaking to me again. I hope she brings back food. I’m starved.”
“You got shortchanged at dinner,” Judith said. “See you later, Jim.”
Jax exited the Kloppenburg room, looking as if she’d recovered most of her composure. “What’s the problem?” Judith asked.
“Dr. Chan thinks Mrs. Kloppenburg may’ve had a mild heart attack.”
Judith felt relieved. “That doesn’t sound too serious. Maybe that’s why the Kloppenburgs wanted privacy. The wife might’ve felt ill when they boarded.”
“I don’t know,” Jax replied. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to her husband. Mrs. Kloppenburg could barely speak, and I don’t mean to criticize, but her English is…um…limited.”
“German?”
“No, some kind of Asian language.” Jax looked apologetic. “It’s especially frustrating in a crisis to deal with people who don’t speak English.”
“I understand,” Judith said. “I’ve had some difficulties with foreign B&B guests. By the way, Mrs. Chan had a…a kind of spell. You might want to tell Dr. Chan if you see him before Laurie does.”
Jax looked startled. “Is she sick, too?”
“I don’t think so,” Judith replied. “More like nerves. It’s a good thing she’s married to Dr. Chan. He must have her medical history memorized by now.” But, she reflected, maybe not her
birthday. After forty years, Joe still thought his wife had been born in September instead of October. “How’s Mr. Kloppenburg?”
“He’s okay.”
Jax’s apathetic response piqued Judith’s interest. “You mean in terms of his reaction to his wife’s heart problem?”
“It’s hard to say,” Jax said, looking as if she was anxious to end the conversation. “I suppose he was upset. He was bossy and almost rude with Dr. Chan.” She made a face.
“No, not rude—more like arrogant.”
“Odd for a man whose wife’s having a heart attack,” Judith said.
“He acts like he’s used to giving orders and expects to be obeyed. A CEO or ex-military, maybe.” She paused. “We’re stopping. Got to go.”
Jax ran down the stairs. Judith looked at her watch. It was almost nine-thirty. Jim Downey had stepped into the corridor. “This must be Malta,” he said.
Judith felt a sense of panic. Dare she get off to call Justin or his mother? Would the Zs and the elder Gundys return to the train? And where was Pepper?
Keeping her voice down, she moved closer to Jim. “What side are they loading and unloading from?”
“The other side,” he responded, nodding in the direction of the Chans’ roomette, where Laurie was still resting.
“Thanks.” Judith started to walk away, but turned back. “Is Laurie okay?”
“She’s asleep,” Jim answered. “What about your neighbor?”
“A mild heart attack. I assume she’ll be taken to the county hospital here.”
“‘Mild’ sounds encouraging.” Jim paused. “I think I hear Sharon and your cousin coming.”
Sure enough, the two women appeared at the far end of the corridor, both loaded down with food and drink. “Good timing,” Renie called, awkwardly balancing the cardboard carrier containing plastic glasses, ice, travel-size liquor bottles, and assorted snacks. “I almost dropped this stuff when we stopped.”
Sharon was carrying sandwiches, chips, and tea. She glanced at the Chans’ roomette. “How’s she doing?”
“Just resting,” Jim said, stepping back so Renie could get by.
“Matt should be back soon.”
Judith followed her cousin. “Did you hear the new engine is meeting us here?” Renie asked, setting the snack items on the table.
“No,” Judith said. “I thought it’d been sent to Scuttle.”
“Change of plans.” Renie studied her cousin. “What’s with you?”
“Nothing,” Judith snapped. “Hand me a Scotch. I’m getting off.”
Renie passed Judith a small Jameson’s. “It’s freezing outside. Don’t go far. Be careful on…”
Grabbing her hooded coat, Judith didn’t pause for the rest of Renie’s advice. She forced herself to descend the stairs slowly. Jax was already standing outside, her breath visible in the cold night air.
“Who’s getting off here?” Judith asked.
“Just the Kloppenburgs,” Jax replied, giving Judith a hand to reach the snow-dusted ground. “Someone said the ambulance has arrived.”
“The station’s kind of small,” Judith remarked, careful of her footing. “Malta isn’t very big, especially for a county seat.”
“That’s Montana,” Jax said. “Plenty of land, not many people. It’s stopped snowing, though.”
“Good.” Judith had her cell in one hand and the Scotch in the other. Moving away from the train toward the blue-and-cream wooden station, she unscrewed the bottle cap and took a quick sip, not caring if Jax might wonder about her drinking habits. A backward glance showed no sign of the attendant. Maybe, Judith thought, she’d gone inside to help the Kloppenburgs. Two men were moving a gurney toward the sleeper.
Although she’d memorized Justin’s number, Judith’s cold fingers misdialed the first time. On the next try, he answered on the third ring.
“It’s Judith,” she said. “I’m in Malta. Can you hear me okay?”
“Yes. You’re in Malta? You should be almost in North Dakota by now.”
“There was a problem,” Judith said, not wanting to go into details. “We lost an engine. I have an important question for you, Justin. When your uncle died, did you or your mom inherit anything?”
Justin laughed. “Are you kidding?”
“No, but if Willie’s been dead that long, why wasn’t it known?”
“You mean how come Mom and I never knew?”
“Not just you,” Judith said, watching Mr. Peterson and the ambulance attendants put down a ramp for the gurney. “The public.”
“We wouldn’t know now if Mom hadn’t gotten the anonymous call today.”
“An anonymous call? How odd. What did this person say?”
“Mom sets the alarm for seven, and the phone rang about six-thirty. The caller told her Willie died of a heart attack five years ago and was buried in Wolf Point under another name. Then the line went dead.”
“No caller ID?”
“The screen showed ‘security screen.’ Mom doesn’t know what to think. It could be a hoax—but why?” Justin said, obviously skeptical. “On the other hand, if my uncle died a long time ago, why was his death kept a secret? And how could that be since Uncle Willie seemed to be still in public view? If whoever stayed at your B&B wasn’t Willie, who the heck was he?”
“Good point,” Judith said, walking along the platform to keep warm. “If whoever died today had impersonated your uncle, he did a plausible job. He also had to have help, so somebody knew he wasn’t the real deal. Has your mother called the cemetery or the funeral home in Wolf Point? They’d have burial records.”
“I know, but Mom started a new project today for a mega-mansion on the Eastside. She may still be there. I haven’t heard from her since this morning. Besides,” Justin continued, “she confessed that despite wanting to avoid Willie while he was in town, she felt sorry for him when she heard about his accident. She didn’t want to get me involved, but she went to see him at the hospital Sunday afternoon. Visitors weren’t allowed, and in any case, he was being discharged. Nobody told her he was leaving town. If whoever stayed with you was the real Willie, she’s guilt-tripping because she lost her chance to say good-bye.”
“Why…” Judith paused as she saw the gurney being lowered onto the platform. Mr. Peterson and Jax were standing by, but there was no sign of Mr. Kloppenburg. “Why does your mother feel guilty if she believes what the person told her this morning on the phone?”
“She doesn’t know what to think or who to trust.”
Judith’s gaze followed the gurney’s progress. Jax and the conductor remained by the sleeping car. “Would your father know?”
“I haven’t a clue,” Justin admitted. “The last I heard he was painting in some small Mexican town.”
“I didn’t realize he was an artist,” Judith said, trying to get a closer look at the patient from some twenty yards away. An oxygen mask concealed everything except some dark hair. Bringing up the rear was a tall, broad-shouldered man with rigid military bearing.
Mr. Kloppenburg? she wondered. Carrying two pieces of luggage, he strode purposefully behind the ambulance attendants. Judith turned her attention back to Justin. “Is your father successful?”
“He survives,” Justin replied. “He doesn’t sell much art, but the town is an enclave for Americans. I think he does okay painting their houses. I don’t know much about him. I don’t care much, either. Sorry,” he added with a lame laugh.
“No need,” Judith said. “If you haven’t yet contacted anyone about this Willie confusion, you should. A crime may’ve been committed.”
“A crime? How so?”
“Concealing the identity of a deceased person, for one thing.” Judith hesitated. She didn’t want to mention murder. “Fraud, maybe. Pepper brought along an insurance policy for Willie. Doesn’t that strike you as suspicious?”
Justin laughed. “Wow! That’s crazy. Did she show it to you?”
“No. I stole it.”
“You wha
t?”
“I stole it. But we won’t classify that as a crime. I intend to give it back when I get the chance. The beneficiary is Willie’s son, your cousin Ricky. Do you know where he is?”
“Ricky?” Justin was silent for a moment or two. “He got married several years ago. Mom and I got an invitation to the wedding, but we didn’t go. We did send a gift. I think the ceremony was in Missoula. That’s the last time we ever heard from him. Actually, I suppose the invitation was sent by his bride. We got a thank-you from her, but it went to Mom. I didn’t bother to read it.”
“What about his sisters?”
“I haven’t seen them since they were kids. They were at that awkward age, somewhere around twelve, going on thirty.”
“Do you remember their names?”
“No. Mom called them Gidget and Widget. Not much class with that part of the family. I’m not a big help, am I?”
“I’m more interested in Ricky than his sisters,” Judith said.
“I’m wondering if—assuming Willie died five years ago—his son got gypped out of his inheritance. This whole mess smacks of deceit—or worse.”
“It sounds serious. I know you,” he went on, “and I sense you’re on the trail of something grim. Be careful.”
“I will,” Judith promised. “We leave here shortly. We’ll make better time with the new engine. If we get to Wolf Point early enough, I’ll call to see if your mother has any news, okay?”
“Sure, though I doubt she can learn much tonight.”
“Every little bit helps. I’d better go, Justin.” She rang off and walked toward the station. Looking up into the eaves above the entrance, she noticed a carving of a black bird. The sculpture looked familiar. She’d seen it before—more than once, she thought. But where?
A few flakes of snow drifted to the ground. Judith was still shivering as she moved across the platform. Mr. Peterson was gone, but Jax stood in the doorway, hugging herself to keep warm.
“We should be leaving in about fifteen minutes,” she informed Judith. “I hope so. It must be down into the low twenties around here.” Jax helped Judith into the train. “I saw you admiring the bird over the station door. Cute, isn’t it?”