It Happened on a Train

by Mac Barnett

  “What?” Steve asked.

  “Oh, yes. The property is huge. We own fifty acres down here. I don’t know what this building used to be—some sort of wine cellar, I think—but I had it retrofitted years ago to store all my new cars.”

  “Wow,” Steve said. It was all he could muster.

  Mrs. Vanderdraak giggled. “You look so surprised. On the train, I was so worried when I found out you were a private investigator. I thought you’d figure out everything, spoil my whole plan. But I guess I didn’t need to be, detective.”

  Steve’s face grew red. “Excuse me, but I snuck into your hideout and then got you to confess all your crimes—that’s pretty good detective work.” Steve considered what she’d said about being worried about him on the train. Wait! “You were the one who tried to kill me in the sauna!” Steve said. “I escaped that!”

  Mrs. Vanderdraak’s face grew serious. “Oh no. Not kill you, Steve. I had timed everything so that when I came in to get you, you would just be badly burned.”

  That sounded even worse. This woman was a maniac.

  “In the hospital you’d be out of my way.” She shrugged.

  “But wait,” Steve said. “You were in the observation room, so how could you trap me in there … ?” He turned to Chuy.

  Chuy smiled sheepishly.

  So Chuy had been holding the door to the sauna closed. Steve was supposed to end up in the hospital, but he ended up surprising Chuy in the vault before he could change back into his mechanics’ outfit.

  “How could you, Chuy?” Steve said. He’d seemed like such a nice guy.

  Chuy shrugged. “It’s just a job, guey.” But he didn’t look like he believed it. “Anyways—”

  “Anyway,” said Steve.

  “What?” said Chuy.

  “It’s just ‘anyway.’”

  “Anyway,” said Chuy, looking strangely at Steve, “what do you want me to do with him, señora?”

  Mrs. Vanderdraak looked at her watch. “It’s getting late. I may as well get some sleep tonight. We’ll figure out what to do with him tomorrow.”

  It was time to fall back on his original plan. Steve held his magnifying glass aloft and aimed it at the Phoebus. Chuy looked concerned.

  “Nobody better touch me,” Steve said. “Either one of you makes one move, I’ll throw this magnifying glass and break one of the car’s windows or dent it or something.” Steve wished he’d stopped at “throw this magnifying glass.”

  Mrs. Vanderdraak laughed. “Please do. I couldn’t care less. I’ll probably end up burning all these cars someday anyway.”

  Steve’s right arm fell. Chuy quickly pinned both Steve’s hands behind his back.

  “Where do I put him?”

  She motioned to a red door on the wall behind her. “Leave him in there with the other one.”

  CHAPTER LVII

  A REUNION

  STEVE WAS TOSSED into a small wood-paneled room with a desk and a chair. A single bulb dangled from a wire. Sitting in the chair was Claire Marriner.

  “Steve!” Claire said. She was reading a different book.

  “Hey, Claire,” said Steve. He was glad to see a friend. Was Claire his friend? He hadn’t known her very long, but she felt like a friend. Because what else would she be? Definitely not more than a friend. Yes. Steve was glad to see a friend.

  The door to the room shut, and a lock clicked.

  And Claire looked glad to see him, too. That was good. It seemed like she wasn’t mad at him anymore. Steve hoped she wouldn’t bring up Cy.

  “So,” said Claire, “looks like you were wrong about my uncle, huh?”

  Great.

  “Maybe,” Steve said.

  “Maybe?” said Claire.

  “Well, right now the evidence is pointing elsewhere.”

  “Typical,” Claire said. “You can’t admit that you were wrong.”

  Steve started a lap around the tiny room. Claire swiveled in her chair and glared at him. “Well,” said Steve, “it wasn’t him in the mask. But he was acting very suspicious. I mean, he kept disappearing. And you don’t know this, but I followed him, and he threatened me. He said he was onto me, and that I would never prove anything. I mean, I know you don’t want to believe this, Claire, but he could still be involved.”

  Claire’s chair stopped rotating. “Steve,” she said.

  Steve stopped walking. “What?”

  She was looking a little past him. “Steve. He was going to the café car. Sometimes my uncle drinks too much. Especially when he’s on a job.”

  “Oh,” Steve said. He was very uncomfortable, and suddenly the tiny room seemed even tinier.

  “He’s gotten in trouble for it before,” Claire said. “Drinking. Almost got his license suspended. He hasn’t had a job for a while. He was so excited when the Vanderdraaks got in touch. It’s probably why he didn’t see it coming.”

  “See what coming?” Steve said.

  “The frame,” Claire said. “Uncle Cy was in a frame. That’s why I’m not mad at you anymore, Steve. You were supposed to think Cy was going to steal the car. Mrs. Vanderdraak set him up.”

  “What?” said Steve. “Where is he now?”

  Claire looked impatient. “He got arrested back in San Diego. Right after the car got stolen, it was chaos. Mr. Vanderdraak weeping, Mrs. Vanderdraak comforting him. Then the cops came and arrested my uncle. I guess they caught that car thief nearby—the one with the beard, only he’d shaved it—and he told the cops that Uncle Cy was his partner, the inside man. Cy denied it, but they had some security footage of the two of them talking in the train station—Uncle Cy swears the guy was just asking him if he knew what the weather would be tomorrow. But nobody believed him. Except me.

  “I was already suspicious before we got to San Diego. After I left you on the train and went back to the Vanderdraaks’ car, I noticed that Chuy was left-handed. And he disappeared as soon as we got to San Diego. And then the Phoebus was stolen while the Medea was being disconnected from the Sunset Coastliner. And Chuy never came back. They asked me a bunch of questions about my uncle at the police station, but I told them they should be trying to find Chuy. I told the police about everything that happened on the train. But they thought I was crazy. I could see it in their faces.

  “And then I guess they told Mrs. Vanderdraak, who laughed and gave Chuy an alibi and told them she and her husband would take care of me until the situation with Uncle Cy was sorted out. Apparently Uncle Cy agreed, which pretty soon turned out to be a dumb move. Mrs. Vanderdraak drove me down here. She was nice in the car—Mr. Vanderdraak stayed up in San Diego to deal with the police—and I told her I thought my uncle had been framed and that Chuy was the real thief. When we got to their estate, she told me I was causing a lot of trouble and locked me in this room. I heard her saying to Chuy that she was going to tell the police I ran away.”

  Steve felt mad at himself. How had he missed all this? And also mad at Mrs. Vanderdraak, mostly for choosing to frame Cy instead of Steve.

  “So how’d you get down to Mexico?” Claire said. “When did you figure out that Mrs. Vanderdraak was stealing the cars? Were you following us? And did you tell the police before you left California?”

  “Uh,” said Steve. “I just figured out about Mrs. Vanderdraak about five minutes ago.”

  “What?” said Claire. “Then how did you get here?”

  “I got stolen with the Phoebus.”

  “What?”

  “Have you ever heard of the Wooden Horse?” Steve asked.

  “No.”

  “It’s an old private detective’s trick. Basically, I realized the best way to figure out who was stealing the cars was to hide in the Phoebus. Then the plan was to bust out once I was inside the thieves’ secret lair.”

  “Oh, like the Trojan horse.”

  “No, this is called the Wooden Horse.”

  Claire shook her head quickly. “Where did you hide?”

  “In the trunk.”

 
“Wait, what?”

  “In the trunk of the car.”

  “But you can’t open a trunk from the inside.”

  “I know that now.”

  “Everybody knows that, Steve. Toddlers know that. There are, like, a million stories on the local news about how dangerous it is when kids lock themselves in trunks.”

  “Okay, well, I don’t watch the local news.”

  “Unless you’re on it,” Claire said, rolling her eyes.

  “I was on the news,” Steve said.

  “Well, now you can be on it again. Tonight at seven: Don’t let your toddler or private detective lock himself in a trunk.”

  Steve ignored her. He looked up at the ceiling.

  “What are you doing?” Claire asked.

  “Trying to find a way out of here.”

  “There’s no way out. I checked. I’ve already been in here a couple hours.”

  Steve continued his examination of the ceiling and four walls around him. Claire was right.

  “So now what?” Claire asked.

  “Well, now we wait for Chuy to come back in here, and we fight our way out.”

  “You mean kayo our way to freedom?” Claire smirked.

  “That’s right.”

  “Steve. We’re twelve.”

  “So what? I kayoed a guy once.” With Dana’s help, he thought. “Here’s the plan. When we hear someone coming, you unscrew the lightbulb. That way Chuy won’t be able to see. Then I’ll throw a haymaker.”

  Claire looked skeptical. “Okay. What do we do until then?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Steve turned his head toward the door.

  Someone was inserting a key into the lock!

  CHAPTER LVIII

  AMBUSH!

  CLAIRE SPRANG ONTO THE DESK. Steve positioned himself next to the door.

  “Ouch!” Claire said. “I burned my fingers.”

  The doorknob turned but did not open.

  “Use my sweatshirt to cover your hands,” Steve said, pulling his blue hoodie over his head and tossing it to Claire.

  The sound of another key.

  The lights went out.

  “Got it!” Claire said.

  In the dark, glass shattered.

  “I dropped the bulb!”

  Steve and Claire prepared their attack.

  “Shhh!” said Steve.

  Steve heard the doorknob turn.

  Steve put his fist up next to his right ear.

  The door’s hinges squeaked.

  Steve swung wide and hard.

  His fist flew through the dark.

  The punch landed!

  CHAPTER LIX

  THE WAY OF THE WIZARD

  “OUCH,” said a familiar voice.

  “Dana?” said Steve.

  “Ow,” said Dana. “What the—what was that, Steve?”

  “Dana?” said Steve.

  “Yeah. You know it’s me. Why did you punch me?”

  “I thought you were Chuy! Claire, it’s Dana!”

  “I can hear that,” said Claire.

  “Dana!” Steve shouted. He did a small dance that nobody would ever see. “How did you get here?”

  “I was in the backseat of the Phoebus.”

  “What?”

  “Well, I thought about why the Hound with Two Tails didn’t work—you know, because you kept looking back at me because you knew I was coming?”

  “Yeah,” Steve said quickly. He wished Claire weren’t around to hear this.

  “And then I thought about how in the second Wizards’ Worlds book, The Alabaster Scramaseax, there’s this apprentice, Drakkar, who has to go on this quest, and his adept, Nywylly, makes herself invisible and accompanies him, and she doesn’t even tell Drakkar, because she figures that if Drakkar knows that she is there helping him—”

  “Does it have to be all wizards all the time with you?” Steve said.

  “Anyway, I got in the backseat and hid under that sheet so I could back you up without any danger.”

  “Ace! The Wooden Hound with Two Tails!” said Steve.

  “Yeah,” said Dana. “Pretty much.”

  “All right,” said Claire. “Let’s get out of here.”

  CHAPTER LX

  ESCAPE!

  THE THREE KIDS stood in the middle of the warehouse. The moon, visible through skylights, faintly illuminated the building. “Okay,” said Steve, “here’s the plan.” He pointed to an aluminum loading door. “Dana, you see about opening that door. Claire and I will try to find the keys to one of these cars.”

  “There’s a big board with a bunch of keys over there,” Dana said, pointing behind Steve. “That’s where I got these.” He held up the ring of keys he’d used to break them out a couple minutes earlier.

  “Good,” said Steve. “We’ll drive out of here and find some federales. Let’s go.”

  Dana ran over to the loading door, Steve and Claire to the wall of keys.

  There were six sets of keys hanging from six hooks. It looked like each set was labeled, but Steve couldn’t read the writing in the dark. He put his nose right up against the wall so he could see better.

  “Do you even know how to drive?” Claire asked.

  “Yeah,” said Steve. “I’m really good.”

  “Cool.”

  It was too dark to read. Steve grabbed all six key rings. “Come on,” he said.

  They sprinted over to the Tucker Torpedo, which sat in a pool of moonlight on the warehouse floor.

  The door was unlocked. Steve sat in the driver’s seat and rested his hands on the wheel. So this was how the Bailey Brothers felt. Except they were always speeding along the open highway, engine purring, blond or brown hair blowing in the wind—which was exactly what Steve would be doing soon.

  Claire got in the seat next to Steve.

  “Are you going to start her up?” she asked.

  Steve fumbled with the keys. “Here.” He handed five sets to Claire. “Hold these.”

  He tried to insert the keys on the first ring. Neither fit in the ignition. He threw the keys out of the car.

  “Give me some more keys,” Steve said, holding out his hand.

  “How about ‘please’?” Claire said.

  “Hurry, please,” said Steve.

  Claire slapped another set in his hand.

  Nope.

  A key on the third ring fit.

  “Here we go,” Steve said.

  He turned the key.

  The engine did not start.

  Steve tried again. There was nothing. No sound. Not even the electric click of a dead battery. Steve tried the remaining keys. None fit.

  “There’s something wrong with the engine,” Steve said.

  “Pop the hood,” said Claire.

  “Do you know how to fix cars?”

  “A little. My uncle taught me.” Claire got out of the sedan.

  It took Steve a while to find the right latch.

  Claire disappeared underneath the hood.

  She came around to Steve’s side of the car. “This car is a fake.”

  CHAPTER LXI

  COUNTERFEIT!

  “NO WAY,” said Steve. The Tucker looked just like the one in the Bailey Brothers books.

  “Seriously,” said Claire. “Everything under the hood is just there for decoration.”

  “How can you tell?” said Steve. He was beginning to wonder if she actually knew about cars.

  “Well,” said Claire, “probably the easiest way to explain it to someone who doesn’t understand cars is that the engine says Mazda on it.”

  Steve hopped out of the driver’s seat and looked under the hood.

  Claire pointed. It was unmistakable. There, visible in the silver light, was MAZDA and a bunch of numbers.

  “Nothing here is really connected, either,” Claire said. “This engine won’t start.”

  Why would Mr. Vanderdraak buy a counterfeit Tucker?

  Dana, breathless, came up behind them.

  “I c
an’t open the door,” he said. “I think I found a control box, but there’s a keypad with a bunch of numbers, and I think you have to know a code.”

  “This car doesn’t start anyway,” Steve said. He slammed down the hood. “It’s a fake.”

  “What?” Dana said.

  “I know,” said Steve.

  “So what do we do?” Claire asked.

  “We can try to start some of these other cars,” Steve said. “But if we can’t open that loading door, there’s not much point.”

  “So we’re trapped,” Claire said.

  Steve starting walking in a tight figure eight, thinking.

  “Shhh,” said Dana. “Do you hear that?”

  All three kids got quiet. It was the sound of an engine—a big one—getting closer fast.

  “It sounds like a truck,” Claire said.

  “It’s coming toward us,” said Dana.

  The truck pulled up outside the building and stopped.

  For almost a minute everything was quiet. Nobody moved.

  Then Steve heard the doors open and close. Men shouted to each other. Metal ground against metal.

  “Okay,” Steve said. “They’re going to be coming inside here.”

  “What do we do?” Dana asked.

  Before Steve could say anything, the loading door groaned and began to roll open.

  CHAPTER LXII

  THE WOODEN HORSE, TAKE TWO

  THE LOADING DOOR was maybe twenty-five yards away from the Tucker. Steve, Claire, and Dana ducked behind the car. Outside, ground lights along a narrow road lit up a large delivery truck. The back of the truck was open, and inside was a black 1932 Packard Twin Six Sport Phoebus.

  “I don’t get it,” Dana said. “I thought the other one was in Rhode Island.”

  Chuy appeared at the back of the truck and began lowering a metal ramp. He shouted orders to two other men in Spanish.

  A second Phoebus. The fake Tucker. Seven cars but only six sets of keys on the wall. Something in Steve’s mind snapped into place. “We need to get in the Phoebus,” he whispered.