by Mary Daheim
“Did you know Purvis was bringing in Mr. Evans?” she asked.
“Mr. Evans? Oh—the Z people. Why would they call themselves…”
“Please!” Judith interrupted. “They had their reasons. Can you find out from the state patrol what’s going on?”
Mr. Peterson frowned. “I know you’re some kind of amateur sleuth,” he said, as much to himself as to Judith, “but I don’t want to interfere with the state’s operation. Maybe I can check with our own police.”
“Do that,” Judith said.
“I’ll have to go outside.” The conductor frowned again. “I’d rather not contact them from the crew car and wake up everyone.”
“We’ll go, too,” Judith said, turning to Renie. “Can you fetch our coats?”
Renie rushed off in a flurry of tiger stripes. Mr. Peterson, who wasn’t wearing his jacket, excused himself. Judith waited at the top of the stairs. Renie reappeared, handing over her cousin’s jacket. “I’ll go first.”
The conductor joined them, opening the door and putting down the stepstool. “This trip isn’t typical of Amtrak,” he said, helping Judith descend.
“I know,” she assured him. “We’re no stranger to…mishaps.”
“We’re hexed,” Renie blurted out. “Think nothing of it. Check out the little cloud of doom and death hanging over Mrs. Flynn’s head.”
Mr. Peterson didn’t seem to take in Renie’s irony. “Very discouraging for you, Mrs. Flynn.” He moved away, apparently seeking privacy for his call.
To Judith’s surprise, the weather seemed warmer than it had been in Wolf Point. There was no snow or ice underfoot. She surveyed what little she could see of their surroundings. The landscape seemed flat—and empty. “If,” she said, “we’re just outside of Williston, I don’t see any sign of habitation. And who’d be crazy enough to leave a parked car on the train tracks?”
“A drunk,” Renie said. “I saw it happen in Oakland. We were leaving the station and going slowly. An empty beater was parked across the tracks. There was a tavern about twenty yards away, and a crew member got off to make the idiot move his car. It wasn’t the first stop on the jerk’s night of beer-soaked revelry. He insisted the tracks were part of the parking lot.”
Judith shook her head. “You should avoid Oakland. It’s bad luck for you.”
“Oh, no. Once we stopped next to a circus train. There were all sorts of—” Renie stopped as Mr. Peterson walked back toward them.
“An Amtrak police officer sobered up Mr. Rowley,” the conductor said. “After the collision, Mr. Rowley got off to look around. He strolled to the creek where Roy’s body was found. A man who fit Mr…. Mr. Evans’s description was kneeling by the creek. A woman was there, too. He thought they were camping.”
Judith quickly sifted through Rowley’s account. “That’s shaky information. Did he give details, such as clothing, age, size?”
“Fortyish,” Mr. Peterson replied. “What he called ‘typical’ clothes—casual. I suppose. He’d seen them earlier.”
“Where?”
“When he and his wife got on the train, and later, going to the bar car.”
“Did he see them coming back?”
“Which—” Mr. Peterson stopped, looking puzzled. “You mean from the creek—or the bar car?”
“Either,” Judith said. “Or both.”
“That wasn’t mentioned.”
Something about the account was off-kilter, but Judith couldn’t put her finger on it.
“Has the pickup driver been found?”
“No,” the conductor said, not meeting Judith’s gaze.
A silence fell upon the trio. Mr. Peterson kept looking at his watch. Renie shifted around in her feather-trimmed satin mules. Judith stared into space. The night seemed empty except for a few dim lights on the train. There was no wind, no moon, no stars—only the vast moribund plains in every direction.
“Where are we?” Judith finally said.
Mr. Peterson gave a start. “The outskirts of Williston.”
“So we’re in North Dakota?”
“Well…” The conductor made a face. “I didn’t check the precise location, but we’re very close to the state line.” He forced a chuckle. “One of us may be in Montana and the others could be in North Dakota.”
Judith persisted. “Then which state’s cops should we call?”
“For what?” Mr. Peterson inquired, puzzled. “I already spoke with our Amtrak law enforcement people.”
“Talk to them again,” Judith urged. “Purvis has the wrong suspect.”
The conductor was incredulous. “I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t either,” Judith said, “until now.”
“Mrs. Flynn,” he began in his sternest voice, “my first responsibility is our passengers. I have total confidence in the railroad’s police and can’t interfere with their investigation or that of the other law enforcement agencies. I’m getting back on the train. And,” he added over his shoulder as he started to walk away, “I’d advise you to do the same. We should be leaving momentarily.”
“Damn,” Judith said under her breath. “Now what do I do?”
“Obey Mr. Peterson,” Renie said. “It may not be freezing here, but it’s still chilly. Do you really want to spend the night stranded on the Great Plains?”
Judith sighed heavily. “No.” Reluctantly, she turned back toward the train—just as it began to move.
“Oh, my God!” Renie shrieked. “Stop! Stop!”
“They can’t hear you,” Judith said, her body sagging. “We’re screwed.”
“We can’t be!” Renie yelled. “Mr. Peterson knows we’re out here. Surely he’ll make the engineer stop.” She stared at her cousin in horror. “We don’t have our purses. We don’t have cell phones. What the hell do we do now?”
“Walk?”
Renie stuck out a mule-covered foot. “In these? I’m lucky I got this far.”
Judith didn’t know what to say. The train had picked up speed. Both sleepers and the dining car passed by. The dome car seemed empty, and not a single head could be seen in the coach cars. A moment later, the Empire Builder disappeared into the night.
“If,” Judith finally said, “we’re on the edge of Williston, we can’t be far from some kind of civilization. Should we find the road that Purvis drove off on or should we stay by the tracks?”
“Tracks,” Renie said after a long pause. “We’ve no idea where the road goes, except north. We could end up crawling on our hands and knees, seeking political asylum in Canada.”
“All we seek is a phone and a roof. Let’s move. It’ll keep us warm.”
Renie was swearing under her breath as she trudged behind Judith. After the first fifty yards, they still couldn’t see any sign of civilization. “On a scale of ten,” Renie griped, “this is a twenty as the worst mess you’ve gotten us into.”
“Hold it.” Judith had stopped. “There’s the road Purvis must’ve taken with Dick and Jane. Look closely. Do you see a light in the distance?”
Renie squinted into the darkness. “Maybe. It’s pretty dim. But so are you for not getting back on the train.”
“Let’s skip the blame game,” Judith said. “I’m not the one dressed like a low-rent hooker. And why didn’t you grab our purses along with our coats?”
“Sorry. You’re right.” Renie peered into the gloom. “The light’s moving this way. Or…not. Now it’s gone. No, it’s turned red. It’s a car backing up.”
Judith could also see what appeared to be taillights. “It’s turning again. What’s going on? Do you think they could hear us if we yelled?”
“We can try,” Renie said, and started bellowing. “Help! Yo! Help!”
To Judith’s amazement, the car kept coming in their direction. “Thank God. Maybe it’s Purvis.” But as the sedan purred to a stop, Judith saw that it wasn’t a law enforcement vehicle, but a sleek silver Porsche.
“Not quite what I expected,” Renie murmured.
Judith didn’t respond. The car stopped some ten yards away and the headlights went out. A moment later, a man wearing a red-and-black hooded rain suit emerged. He paused before walking toward the cousins.
“Whoa!” he cried. “Who are you?”
“Does it matter?” Renie asked impatiently. “We need a ride to Williston. We’ve got a train to catch. Again.”
“The train’s there now,” the man said, moving closer. He stared at Renie. “What the hell…?”
“Never mind,” Renie shot back. “Can you give us a ride or not?” The man laughed.
“Are you kidding?”
Judith suddenly tensed. “Who were you waiting for?”
“Not you,” he replied. “Did you get off the train?”
“Yes,” Judith said, keeping her tone neutral, even as she heard Renie’s sharp intake of breath. “We’re stranded. Did you expect Maddie and Tiff?”
The man looked wary. “You know them?”
Judith paused. “Give us a ride and we’ll tell you where they are.”
“Why,” Renie said, “share with those dim bulbs? We did the real work.”
“True,” Judith said. “But the pictures are on the train. Let’s go.”
“Nice wheels,” Renie noted. “I’ll sit in back. Coz needs more legroom.”
Judith got in the front, wondering if this was the stupidest thing she and Renie had ever done—and realized it was the only thing they could do. “How far is the station?” she asked as their chauffeur slid into the driver’s seat.
“Five minutes,” he growled. “We better make it in time. No pics, no deal. Got it?”
“Got it,” Judith said.
The Porsche seemed to fly along the dirt road before smoothly veering onto a two-lane highway.
“Whee!” Renie cried from the backseat. “I think I lost my mules.”
“What’re you doing back there?” the man demanded, looking in the rearview mirror.
“I can’t see you.”
“Trying to find my mules,” Renie replied in a muffled voice.
“Your mules? What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, turning to look in the backseat.
“Hey,” Judith cried, “watch the road. You must be doing ninety.”
“A hundred and four,” the man retorted. “There’s no traffic this time of night. We’re almost in Williston.”
Sure enough, Judith could see lights on the town’s outskirts. A moment later, the Porsche whizzed by the city limits sign. After a few blocks, the car slowed to a mere sixty. Judith realized that her clenched fists were literally white-knuckled. “Where are we?” she asked. “I don’t see any train tracks.”
“The station’s on the edge of downtown,” their driver said.
“Hang on.” He hit the gas, racing through a blur of mixed commercial and residential buildings. When he slowed again, Judith saw lighted motel signs and an arrow pointing to Sloulin Field International Airport. What she couldn’t see was any sign of a police presence. Her nerves were frayed by the time they pulled up by a sturdy brick building that bore the Amtrak logo.
“Where’s the train?” she asked.
“You can’t see it from here. Get out and walk straight ahead.” Judith moved to open the door. Renie moved, too, so swiftly that the man yelled out. “What the hell…Hey!”
Judith gaped at their driver. His arms were tied to the back of the seat with a tiger-striped rope. “Grab the keys, coz!” Renie cried, and yanked off the rain suit’s hood.
“Aha! Sideburns!” As her victim tugged at his satin bonds, Renie clobbered him with the heel of one of her mules. He screamed in pain as his head fell forward. “Go!” she ordered a transfixed Judith.
Judith snatched the keys out of the ignition and opened the door. Renie was already outside, running to the station on bare feet. By the time Judith caught up, her cousin was already inside, arguing with a startled middle-aged man wearing an Amtrak uniform.
“Ma’am,” he said, “the Empire Builder left three minutes ago. It’s already way behind schedule. I can’t stop it.”
With flying tiger stripes, Renie hurled herself onto the counter, eyeball to eyeball with the Amtrak employees. “Do it or I’ll have to hurt you.”
Judith had stopped halfway between the door and the ticket counter. “Call the cops!” she shouted. “That woman already attacked a man in the parking lot. I know how to deal with her. I’m from the home where she escaped.”
Renie growled and made clawing gestures as if to go for the man’s throat. He backed away and picked up the phone.
“It’s okay, Petunia,” Judith said soothingly as she approached Renie. “No one will harm you. The nice man’s phoning for help. You’ll be back in your cozy room with a bowl of porridge in no time.”
Renie stopped clawing but growled at Judith, who glimpsed the man’s name tag. “Barney is a very sweet guy. Let me help you get back on your feet. You’ve lost your slippers.”
Renie slid off the counter. “They’re not slippers, they’re mules,” she said, sounding almost normal. “I love my mules. Hee-haw.”
Barney hung up. “The pol—the people are on the way.”
Judith smiled warmly. “May I use your phone? I must call the home.”
Still shaken, Barney handed the receiver to Judith, who dialed 911. “This is in regard to the call from the train station. A silver Porsche’s in the parking lot. The man inside is a murder suspect. Have him taken him into custody ASAP. If you don’t believe me, check with the Montana Highway Patrol and Amtrak’s police. This is no joke. I’ll stay on the line until your officers arrive.”
The female 911 operator didn’t respond immediately. “Are you sure?” she finally said. “Is this something to do with the missing train attendant?”
“Yes. Do it.” Exhausted, Judith leaned against the counter, the phone still at her ear. She heard the operator click off.
Barney was bug-eyed. “I don’t get it. What’s going on?”
“It’s a long story,” Judith said wearily. “Be patient. You’ll find out later. I have to sit, but the phone won’t reach the chairs bolted to the opposite wall.”
Renie dragged a packing crate over to Judith. “Use this,” she said. “I lost my mules when I jumped out of the car. I want them back. They tie the whole outfit together.”
“That belt certainly tied up Ricky Weevil,” Judith said, sitting on the crate. “He shouldn’t have laughed. The gap between his teeth gave him away.”
Barney moved out into the waiting area. “I feel like I’m having a bad dream. I’m almost afraid to ask who you really are.”
Judith shrugged. “Just two middle-aged women going to meet our husbands in Boston. If we ever get there.” She heard sirens. “Good. The cops are here. Let’s wait until they arrest Ricky.”
Renie sat down in one of the chairs. “Hey,” she said to Barney, “have you got a master key to those lockers by the restrooms?”
“Yes,” Barney replied. “Why?”
“Open them,” she said. “There should be twenty grand in one of them.”
Barney’s heavy-lidded eyes widened. “Really? Oh, man, I don’t—”
“There are only ten lockers,” Renie interrupted. “Maybe you’ll get some of the money for a reward.”
“I am dreaming,” Barney muttered, going back behind the counter and opening a drawer. “Whose money is it?”
“Hard to say,” Judith responded. “Probably the guy who’s being arrested. But it was intended for two young women who were no-shows.”
“Crazy,” Barney said, still muttering as he went to the lockers. Only four were locked. He got lucky on the first try. “Here’s an envelope. Shall I open it?”
“Sure,” Judith said.
Barney carefully used the key to tear through the envelope.
“My God! You’re right! There’s a bunch of hunsky packets in here.”
A young man wearing a police uniform entered the station. “Mrs. Flynn?” he sai
d, looking first at Renie with unconcealed shock.
Renie pointed to Judith. “She’s the one on the box. I’m just here for comic relief.”
“Ah…” The young man blushed. “Oh. Sure.” He removed his hat and introduced himself to Judith. “I’m Jason Maxwell, Williams County sheriff deputy. My partner has the suspect in custody. He’s incoherent and seems to have a gash in his head. The suspect, I mean.”
Judith nodded. “My cousin had to subdue him. She’s Mrs. Jones. Despite appearances, she’s not exactly comic relief.”
“Sidekick, then,” Renie said, arranging the folds of her peignoir. “Just like Chet Gundy and Wee Willie Weevil. Sometimes it’s hard to tell which is which.”
“Weevil?” Deputy Maxwell grew redder. “You mean the suspect is related to the daredevil guy?”
“His son,” Judith said, stifling a yawn. “He’s dangerous. Not only is he involved in the murder of an Amtrak attendant, but he may’ve caused the death of Chet Gundy. The real Willie Weevil died of an aneurysm five years ago. Oh—the Amtrak police should arrest a couple calling themselves Jack and Rosie Johnston. She glanced at Barney. “Have you seen a couple in Western gear?”
“No. The only arrivals were the Fullers, who live down the street from me.” Barney stared at the cash in his hand. “What do I do with this?”
“Oh—I almost forgot,” Judith said. “A couple of Ricky Weevil’s accomplices were taken into custody in Wolf Point, first names, Maddie and Tiff. They were collecting this money for taking pictures at my B&B for Ricky.” She smiled apologetically.
“I wish you could keep some, but it is blood money.”
Barney dropped the money and the envelope. “Then I don’t want it.”
Judith turned to Jason. “Take care of it. It’s evidence. Now would you please flag down the train for us?”
The deputy awkwardly gathered up the bills and put them back in the envelope. “You have to give statements,” he said. “We had to wake the sheriff up. He wants to be filled in before he charges the guy in the Porsche.”
Judith shook her head. “We really can’t. We have to get back on—”
“Coz,” Renie broke in, “don’t be a spoilsport. Your husband’s a cop, you know the drill. Besides,” she went, glancing at Jason, “the locals obviously checked with the Montana and the Amtrak police. They know your name, they know your reputation. Let’s not damage it by being uncooperative.”