Murder on the Sugarland Express

by Angie Fox

  “Never tick off a tuba player,” Frankie said, shaking his head. “They’re tougher than they look. Anyway, unless you want me to be alone and lonely for the rest of eternity, I’m going on that train ride.”

  A knock sounded at the front door. “Yoo-hoo! Verity,” a woman called over the creaking of the hinges as she let herself in. “My girls and I made you a ‘congratulations’ casserole to celebrate your reconciliation with Beau Wydell. We really couldn’t be happier for you. He’s the hottest bachelor in the county, you know.”

  I smelled sausage and eggs before Cordelia Masters turned the corner into the parlor and watched me leap out of the bed I’d shared with Ellis.

  Her smile fell, and I could almost see the flower in her hat droop along with it. “For you and…Beau,” she said, awkwardly holding the covered dish between us.

  She stared from me to Ellis, as if we’d been caught doing something we shouldn’t.

  “Sorry to disappoint,” Ellis said, standing, not bothering with a shirt.

  I pasted on a gracious smile and realized I still had my sundress draped over my shoulder. “Thank you, but as you can see, I’m not back with Beau,” I said, allowing her to keep the still-steaming casserole. “That’s over. It’s been over for a year now. No matter what the papers say.”

  She blinked a few times. “I’ll have to call Louisa May, then, and tell her to cancel the cake.”

  Ellis drew up behind me. “I think that would be best,” he grated out.

  Cordelia had left the front door open, and I heard another car pull up the gravel drive. “Have a nice day,” Cordelia said, backing out, practically running as she called out to the next visitor, “Sadie, park the car. I have news—” The screen door flapped in her wake.

  I turned toward a frowning Ellis. “You’re right. We need to get out of town.”

  Chapter 3

  By noon the next day, I was in the parlor, packed and ready to go. And not a minute too soon. The Sugarland grapevine had sprouted a dozen new tendrils even I hadn’t seen coming.

  Lauralee had gladly taken Lucy while I’d avoided two more casserole pushers and fielded a phone call from my mom in Florida, assuring her that, no, I did not lose my mind and rekindle a romance with Beau.

  Ellis had bought us last-minute tickets on the Sugarland Express and was coming to pick me up.

  Now all I had to do was escape a tortured ghost.

  “Stop being difficult,” Frankie said as I closed the suitcase I’d borrowed from my sister, Melody. “You and I both know it’s a mistake to leave me here alone.”

  “What’s the difference? You do whatever you want, even with me around,” I said, sitting on the case in order to zip it shut. My sister had lent me far too many shoes. “Besides…” I tried to think of a polite way to say it as the zipper snicked closed, but settled on pure honesty. “I don’t want to see ghosts on this trip.”

  “That is insulting,” he said, “but I will take the high road.”

  He couldn’t find the high road with a map.

  Ellis’s truck rumbled to a stop out back. “That’s my ride.” I smiled.

  Frankie stiffened. “You’re just going to leave Molly standing on your porch.”

  “No,” I said, dragging my suitcase through the kitchen toward the back door. “I’m going to leave her with you.”

  Frankie trailed behind. “Can I be honest?”

  I paused. “Do you really want me to answer that?” This was Frankie we were talking about.

  “I don’t want to hang out with you. I’ve got to do this for Molly.” He yanked off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, what if she decides I’m boring and breaks up with me? I can’t take her anywhere new or exciting, not without you. I’m trapped here.”

  True, I had grounded him. Quite by accident. But still, it put him at a disadvantage.

  He pointed his hat at me. “If Molly ditches me, it’ll be on you,” he warned.

  “You can’t blame me.” But he would. If there was trouble in paradise when I came back, I didn’t relish defending myself over and over again. Once Frankie got an idea in his head, it was hard to shake it loose.

  And I was rather fond of Molly.

  “Fine,” I said, hoping I didn’t regret it. “You can go—on one condition.” I’d find a way to explain to Ellis why I felt the need to bring two ghosts on our romantic escape. “I want to forget you’re even there. No snarky comments, no sharing our room, no popping in on us in the morning.”

  “Hot diggety dog!” He slapped his hands together as he passed through the back wall on his way to tell Molly. “You won’t regret it.”

  I hoped not. But there wasn’t too much time to ponder. I’d barely stuffed Frankie’s urn in my shoulder bag before Ellis opened the door and we were off.

  * * *

  We arrived in Kingstree, South Carolina, that night with enough time to grab a quick bite before it was time to board the train. Formal dinner on the Sugarland Express wasn’t until nine o’clock, which was later than we were used to eating.

  I still hadn’t figured out a way to tell Ellis that Frankie and Molly were canoodling in the flatbed of the pickup truck.

  Never didn’t seem like an option.

  I mean, I could keep it a secret. It wasn’t as if Ellis could see Frankie and Molly. Still, that kind of dishonesty made me uncomfortable.

  “Relax,” Ellis said as he pulled up in front of a gorgeous old railroad station that had been converted into the Last Stop Grill. The two-story brick building boasted arched windows with red awnings and a wide outside platform with tables overlooking the old tracks. “This was one of the busiest stations in this part of the country for decades. Frankie should find a lot to occupy him here.”

  “Wait. You know he’s here?” I gaped as Ellis killed the engine. “How?”

  “You keep sneaking looks at the flatbed behind us,” Ellis said, pocketing his keys. “It doesn’t take an expert to know Frankie talked you into coming.”

  “That ghost is stickier than a possum in pine tar,” I agreed, reaching for my purse, feeling a bit guilty. Ellis had treated me to this trip so we could be alone together, and I’d allowed my ghosts to intrude.

  “Can’t say I’m happy about him tagging along,” Ellis said, popping open the door. “I assume he’ll stick to his own business.”

  “That he will,” I promised. And while we were discussing it… “Molly’s here, too.”

  He shook his head and tried to hide the hint of a smile. “I figured.”

  “Thank you,” I said, growing a bit misty-eyed. Ellis had every reason to be annoyed with me, yet he’d given me the benefit of the doubt.

  He was one of the good ones. We just needed to catch a break.

  My eye caught several couples dining outside, smiling and laughing without a care in the world, or so it seemed. I wanted to be one of them.

  Ellis opened my door. “You think any harder and you’re going to break something,” he teased, offering a hand to help me down out of the truck.

  “I just don’t want anything to go wrong on this trip,” I said, walking with him toward the wide front doors. It seemed like wherever we went, trouble followed.

  “The trip will be great.” Ellis wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “We’re leaving our worries behind.” He drew me tighter. “Trust me.”

  “Of course.” I wished I had his confidence. I let out a long breath and tried to relax. “It’ll be fine.”

  I glanced back at the truck and caught the eye of the gangster, who gave me the thumbs-up.

  I ignored him.

  “Let’s eat,” Ellis said, in the tradition of guys everywhere.

  We entered the old station, and I was captivated. Built in 1906, the warm wood trim and antique maps on the walls carried the kind of nostalgic charm that made my spirit warm and my heart go pitter-patter.

  Three long wooden benches in the waiting area—most likely original—stretched out, as if waiting for the next train to
roll in. The gilt bronze and crystal tiered chandelier above reminded me of the one from my home that I’d been forced to sell.

  It had graced the parlor for as long as the house had stood. There was no telling where it was now, or what would become of it. I fought back a twinge of pain for my family heirlooms scattered and gone. I couldn’t recover everything I’d lost, but I could hold onto the hope that someday my home would be this warm and full again.

  We visited the hostess stand and were escorted to a lovely table on the patio overlooking the tracks. In fact, most of the restaurant seating was under the large awning outside. The station itself wasn’t that big.

  “You like?” Ellis asked, admiring the vintage-inspired Southern Railway place settings.

  “I love,” I said, sinking back into the cushioned chair.

  This was our chance to be a blessedly normal couple. Well, as normal as we could get with an urn in my purse and two ghosts in the back of the truck.

  An age-stained clock face hung from the hand of a brass, art deco angel. The doors stood open, and the smell of old brick and wood drifted from inside, mingling with the fresh summer air.

  The waitress had barely poured two glasses of sweet tea for us when my phone pinged.

  “It’s Lauralee,” I told him. “I hope she hasn’t run into trouble already.”

  “Go call her back,” he said, relaxing with his drink. “I’m fine here.”

  The waitress directed me to a small brick patio at the rear of the building, where two other women chatted with their babysitters.

  I smiled as I dialed my friend’s number. For the first time in a long time, I could honestly tell her that I was taking care of myself. Ellis and I would prove that we could do this. We could be normal. Savor the simple things. Enjoy three whole days without the threat of scandal, tragedy, or murder.

  The phone rang, and for a moment, I let myself imagine a life like this, with Ellis.

  “Sweetie,” she exclaimed the moment I answered. “I’m so glad you called back. We have an issue,” she said, her voice lowering. “I’m sorry to bug you on vacation, but I figured I should get your take.”

  “Oh my,” I said, dismayed that crisis mode felt distressingly normal as well. I braced my back against the wall. “Is everything all right?” When I’d dropped Lucy off last night, Lauralee had assured me that my little skunk would be in for the vacation of her life. And while I had no doubt about Lauralee’s ability to control chaos—my friend had four boys under the age of eight, and her house was still standing—Lucy wasn’t used to following anybody else’s rules.

  Even after I’d specifically talked to her about being a good houseguest.

  “Everything’s great,” Lauralee said, to the sound of kids laughing in the background. “The kids love having an animal around. But…” She paused. “Is it okay if Lucy sleeps in bed with my oldest? Because she already did last night.”

  “That’s no problem at all,” I said, pushing off the wall, both relieved and glad that Lucy had warmed up to her temporary home so quickly.

  “Oh, and I know you said she loves yogurt, so the two youngest made her a parfait.”

  “They take after their mother.” Lauralee was one of the finest cooks in town.

  “Someone has to use the crystal from my wedding,” my friend said. “Of course, Hiram didn’t want to be outdone, so he’s going to teach Lucy to give him a high five.”

  “You realize she’s only staying with you for three more days,” I said, heading for an arched door that appeared to offer a shortcut back into the restaurant.

  “Once you sleep under our roof, you’re one of us.” Lauralee laughed, her humor cut short when we heard a crash behind her. “Gotta go!” she said, with a smile still in her voice.

  There was no one like Lauralee, and I was grateful to count her as a friend, but for once I was glad she was in Sugarland and I was here.

  I passed into a lovely travel-inspired bar area. Leather club chairs, brass lamps and side tables, and artfully displayed vintage luggage reminded me of the days when traveling was an experience to be savored.

  A reclaimed wood table served up a variety of books on classic cocktails, scenic railways, and good cigars, topped by a quirky iron sculpture of an old locomotive.

  The space stood empty. It was early yet. I’d have to show Ellis this room after dinner.

  A few details like this could really dress up his Spartan bachelor pad. Slowly but surely, he’d been stashing the candles, the tall jar filled with decorative balls, and all of the knickknacks I’d bought him, claiming they blocked the TV or they got in the way when he ate his microwave meals on the coffee table.

  I slipped my phone into my bag and was about to get back to my date when Frankie shimmered into view in front of me.

  He held up his hands. “I know you don’t want to see me, but I have news.”

  “You’re right. I don’t want to see you,” I said, moving past him.

  He reappeared directly in front of me. “This is the station where the Pokipse Gang robbed the nine o’clock special,” Frankie gushed.

  My bag slipped off my shoulder. “I’m not even sure what that means,” I said, adjusting the strap. “And what happened to not talking to me?”

  “This is important,” he insisted. “I just met Joe Pokipse out back. He and the gang made off with more than three hundred dollars in gold, and it’s buried right outside.” He was like a kid on Christmas. “Half that’s mine if you dig it up.”

  Did he hear himself? “We are not digging up gold. We’re not teaming up with Joe Pokipse. I am on vacation, and you are on a date.”

  He sighed, as if I were the difficult one, and hit me with a wave of power that made me catch my breath.

  “Frank—” I began, reeling from the shock of it, forcing myself to breathe deep as the prickling energy raced down my arms and soaked into me.

  “Relax and enjoy it. I have lots of spare juice now,” Frankie said, as if that were the issue.

  Molly had made him a more powerful ghost. I wasn’t sure if it was the “joining” of their energy (in ways I’d rather not think about) or if it was merely the fact that he was happier and more in touch with his feelings than he’d ever been, at least since I’d met him.

  Either way, he wasn’t as stingy about sharing his ghostly power, which was certainly different. Not to mention inconvenient because, for once, I didn’t want it.

  The ghostly side filtered into view around me. In stark gray, I saw three rows of benches, like the ones in the lobby, plus a petite Molly standing next to Frankie.

  She gave a small wave. “Hi, Verity. He shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Exactly. He should be focused on you while I’m on vacation,” I said, directing my ire at the gangster.

  Frankie looked from his girlfriend to me. “I am focused on Molly. This is how I’m gonna get the cash to show her a good time,” he said, as if that were the solution to everything. He leaned close to me. “Now, the gold is under a big oak tree. You cut it down, and then you get a shovel—”

  “No,” I said. “I’m going back to dinner with my boyfriend.” I strolled past him, out toward the lobby area and the doors to the patio.

  I was not going to get wrapped up in his ghostly shenanigans. I wasn’t even tempted.

  “Wait. Hold up,” Frankie said, keeping pace with me. “I’m just trying to give Molly a taste of what we do for a living. You know, impress her. Flash some gold around.”

  He was trying to take advantage. “I don’t see you,” I singsonged under my breath. “I don’t see any of this.”

  The ghost of a woman in a ragged traveling cloak blocked the door to the patio where Ellis sat. She turned to me and lowered her hood. Her skin clung to her cheekbones, giving her a skeletal appearance.

  “Excuse me,” she drawled slowly, her Southern accent thick. “Do you have the time?”

  Not in her dimension. But darn it, I didn’t want to be rude. I checked my watch. “Ten after
seven,” I said, attempting to edge around her toward the door.

  The skin around her eyes was so thin I swore I could see her eye sockets as she gazed up at me. “Do you know when the next train will arrive?”

  Possibly never.

  I’d heard stories of ghost trains, but I’d never seen one. And it appeared as if she’d been waiting for a long, long time.

  The shimmering woman watched me expectantly, and I cringed at the thought of her waiting endlessly, stranding herself for eternity. She needed to start living her afterlife in a way that made her happy.

  I drew closer to her and spoke to her as if she were someone’s great-grandmother, which, for all I knew, she might have been. “The next train may be a long time coming,” I said gently. “I think it’s best that you move on.”

  She nodded, and I wasn’t sure my words had any impact. Then I watched her slowly fade until she disappeared entirely. I hoped she’d gone into the light.

  That was the last ghost sighting I’ll have while on this vacation, I promised myself as I stepped out into the light of the patio.

  Ellis had ordered a potato-skins appetizer for us and was talking with an older couple at the table next to him.

  I dropped a kiss on his cheek and joined him.

  “It’s just never been done before,” said the woman at the next table. Her husband had his nose buried in a book on vintage locomotives. He looked familiar, with his pale eyebrows and gold-rimmed spectacles. A half-eaten slice of carrot cake sat between them, with two forks.

  “Mary Jo was just telling me about the new Sugarland Express,” Ellis said.

  “There’s nothing new about it,” she said, her colorful glass earrings swinging as she spoke. “It’s been completely restored using cars and parts from several original-model turn-of-the-century trains. They did a spectacular job. We drove from Foley for the maiden voyage. Everyone in Dave’s classic train club wanted to go, but the trip came up rather suddenly and sold out just as fast.”

  “I heard they finished early and wanted to get moving,” Ellis said, nudging the platter of skins my way.