Murder on the Sugarland Express

by Angie Fox

  “Beau, focus.” He had a group of frightened passengers on his hands, not to mention a saboteur on board. “Listen. What just happened is worse than a near miss with a rock. While we were stopped, someone snuck up front and messed with the train’s communications system. They could have been using the power outage as a distraction. Was there anyone missing from the dining room before the train stopped?”

  He shook his head. “I was too busy with dinner to notice.”

  “What about after the power outage?” I asked. “When the lights were out or, heck, after they came back on—was anyone unaccounted for?”

  Beau went a little pale. “Let me think,” he said, his expression going blank. “Dave and Mary Jo Abel helped me calm everyone down.” He glanced to where the couple I’d met at the Last Stop Grill stood talking with a very young woman and her husband. “They bonded with the honeymooners. The girl was freaking out.” Beau took a sip of his drink, whiskey from what I could smell. “The communications system? Damn.”

  “Who else?” I pressed as Molly waved at me frantically from the back of the train.

  “Coming,” I mouthed to her.

  But this was real life. This came first. I wanted to get Beau’s take on what had happened right after the blackout while his memory was fresh.

  “There was Eileen, the journalist,” he continued. “I don’t see her now, but she was here when the lights came back on.”

  “Could she have gone to the front of the train during the blackout?” I pressed.

  “I don’t know,” he scoffed. “Did you see her there?”

  A terrible thought occurred to me. “I might have seen someone.” In the bar car, when that bottle rolled out, I’d assumed it had been supernatural or just a result of the train’s jarring stop.

  But what if there had been someone hiding behind the bar?

  Someone who had torn apart the radio room and made their escape…

  They also could have slipped back into the dining car without anyone noticing. The galley had been empty and the train dark.

  Still, I couldn’t think of a reason why a journalist would stoop to sabotaging a passenger train. “What is Eileen reporting on?”

  Beau shot me a look of scorn. “The unforgettable maiden voyage of the Sugarland Express,” he said, with mock joy, before downing his drink in one gulp. “She’s an Arts and Leisure reporter for the Memphis Herald,” he said, chewing on the ice.

  Hmm…yes. She would be one he’d want to impress. “At least she can’t go anywhere yet,” I said, looking at the bright side. “You still have time to impress her.”

  It had to be all uphill from here.

  I scanned the train car and noticed another significant absence. “Where’s Stephanie?”

  Beau shook his head. “I don’t know. Bathroom or something.” He leaned against the wall between two windows and waved off the question. “She was talking to that couple sitting at the back table, celebrating their fiftieth. They reminded her of her grandparents.”

  Or they were by the door and that made it convenient to slip out.

  But if that was the case, she’d have gone toward the back of the train and not the front.

  “Has he been here the whole time?” I asked, pointing at the man who had confronted Stephanie in the alley back in Kingstree. She’d called him Ron, if I remembered correctly—the Ron she’d claimed she didn’t know.

  “He’s been here.” Beau shot him a glare. “He’s been riling up the passengers, telling them we’re running an unsafe train. I’d like to drop a few rocks on him.”

  I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hang in there.” Beau might not have taken charge of the train like Virginia or Ellis did, but he’d held down the fort with the passengers. And he cared. It was more than I could say for the mysterious Ron, who tipped back the last of his drink and shot a dirty look back at Beau. “Keep an eye on him,” I added.

  Beau pushed off the wall. “I’ll get him another scotch,” he said, as if he’d rather pour one over his head.

  Hopefully that would keep Ron in the dining car with the rest of the passengers. Most of them. As of now, we were missing Stephanie and the journalist. Plus we had a ghost issue in compartment 9.

  I might as well see what I could learn about all three of them.

  I followed Stephanie’s presumed route toward the back of the train.

  But as I pushed my way into the first passenger car, I halted. The door at the opposite end of the car slowly glided to a close. I’d just missed…someone.

  Well, that was interesting, considering Stephanie should have been gone for a while. The journalist, too.

  I picked up the pace, jogging through the car, trying to ignore the glow of the ghostly train all around me. I reached the next car and caught a glimpse of lavender silk disappearing through the door at the other end.

  Stephanie.

  She’d been running as fast as I had.

  I wondered how much Beau knew about his new girlfriend.

  “One more car,” Molly said. She hovered slightly behind me. I’d forgotten she was even there.

  She was right, though. It appeared Stephanie was headed for her compartment, number 9, which, according to Molly, happened to contain a shady-looking spirit.

  Perhaps Beau’s girlfriend would let me inside to investigate. If anything, it would give her a good story about her man’s crazy ghost-hunting ex.

  “Let’s go,” I said, jogging down the hall, eager to catch up with her, maybe even intercept her as she entered her room.

  But when I was about ready to open the door between the cars, I saw her through the window. She stood looking down the hall toward the caboose at the end.

  I ducked away from the window as Stephanie’s head turned in my direction.

  I wasn’t even sure why I did it. I had a right to be there.

  Yet I wanted to see what she would do if she didn’t know she was being watched.

  Beau’s girlfriend didn’t disappoint.

  Instead of entering her own compartment, I heard her knock on a door. I peered through the edge of the window as she murmured a greeting, then slipped into compartment 8.

  Well, now that was interesting.

  The door clicked closed behind her.

  “Who’s in 8?” I whispered to Molly. It seemed Stephanie knew more than a few people on the train.

  “Whoever it is, she’s probably not trapped with a murderer,” Molly hissed, stopping at compartment 9.

  “Poke your head in,” I whispered, keeping a lookout. “I can’t go into Stephanie and Beau’s room.”

  “Yes, you can,” Molly said as the lock clicked.

  Of all the… “How did you do that?” I reached for the handle, turning it easily. She definitely had more skills than Frankie.

  “It’s hard. It takes a lot of energy to push the little tumblers.” She brought a hand to her forehead and glided back a few steps. “I feel a little faint,” she confessed.

  Not only that, her image had faded. Frankie was going to kill me if I made his girlfriend disappear.

  Her eyes widened. “Let’s go,” she implored.

  I turned back to the door.

  It was a horrible invasion of privacy.

  “Please,” Molly begged, joining me.

  I couldn’t prevent a murder that had happened almost a century ago, but I could try to give the ghosts peace. We’d only stay a minute.

  “Here goes nothing,” I said.

  Frankie’s girlfriend peered over my shoulder as I opened the door.

  Molly screamed.

  We were too late. The ghost of a young woman lay facedown in a pool of blood on the floor, her long party dress tangled around her legs. Her arms were splayed outward, and a fox fur stole lay crumpled next to her, complete with the animal’s front paws and head. Its dead eyes stared up at me.

  “Poor girl,” I whispered. One cheek rested on the stained carpet. I bent to see the rest of her face. She’d been about my age. My size, even. I
wasn’t sure if it was a warning or a macabre coincidence.

  “I should have followed that scary-looking ghost instead of getting you,” Molly sobbed. “I should have told Frankie. Or confronted it myself. I should have been braver.”

  I wished I could give her a hug. “Bad things happen. It’s not your fault.”

  But in the back of my mind, I also wished we’d gotten here even five minutes sooner.

  We’d just missed the killer. “See if she’s still breathing,” I said, bending over the body.

  Cripes. What was I thinking? This young woman had been dead for a hundred years, and she was a ghost. I couldn’t stop a murder on the ghostly plane. There was no way to change what had already happened. Otherwise Frankie would have found a way to erase that bullet hole in his head.

  The girl’s glassy eyes stared without seeing.

  I scanned the room for other ghosts or for any sign of who might have done this.

  Molly knelt next to me and felt the girl’s neck. “She’s dead,” she said, her voice small.

  I studied the ugly wound on her back. “They stabbed her,” I said, staying clear of the blood.

  Molly gently closed the woman’s eyes.

  “She won’t be like this for long,” I assured Molly. I’d watched Frankie get into gun battles with the gangsters on the other side. A mortal wound would usually knock them out for a few hours, but nothing more. “Can you tell me what her killer looked like?”

  Molly’s hair fell like a curtain over her cheek. She brushed it back behind her ear. “It was a dark energy with ill intent, no more than a jagged shadow, but it was as real as I am.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that.

  “She could be your sister,” Molly said, giving voice to the elephant in the room.

  “I can see where one might think that,” I admitted, not at all sure I liked where this was going.

  I’d escaped compartment 9.

  Too bad this woman hadn’t.

  “Verity, we’ve had a rockfall. And now this killing. What if the rest comes true? What if our Sugarland Express goes over into the river?”

  “It won’t,” I said. Surely we were headed for a modern bridge, one that had been inspected according to the latest safety standards. Besides, we might be on some sort of strange ghostly loop, but I had to believe the conductor would decide to reverse the train back to Kingstree and end this cursed trip.

  The compartment door opened and Beau walked in.

  “Verity,” he said, clearly surprised.

  “Oh, my word.” I stood quickly. “I came to check on your ghost,” I said by way of explanation. “I’m so sorry to intrude.”

  “I get it,” he said, closing the door behind him. “It’s kind of cute,” he added, loosening his tie, drawing near enough for me to smell his spicy cologne.

  “She died,” I said, turning back to the ghost that he couldn’t see.

  Beau knit his brow. “Isn’t that what ghosts do?” he asked, trying to understand. But it was so much more than that.

  The poor girl had begun to fade from his floor. I wished I could have spent more time with her.

  “Maybe the ghost wants you to have a seat on the couch with me,” he said, winding an arm around my waist.

  I jumped like he was on fire. “Hands off,” I said, twisting out of his reach.

  I couldn’t believe he’d actually touched me. Half his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a tan, gym-hardened chest. How had he gotten it undone so fast?

  “Hey, whoa,” he said, holding his palms up. “I’m not the one sneaking into your room. Although maybe you’d like that.”

  “This isn’t about you,” I insisted. I didn’t know how to make it clearer. “You have a murdered ghost on your floor—”

  Not for long, though.

  Molly let out a sigh as the woman disappeared completely.

  “You can stop pretending.” Beau shot me a grin, running a hand through his hair, rumpling it. “I know we had a moment there at the opening of Southern Spirits. I just didn’t think you’d have the guts to act on it.”

  We were getting nowhere. And…yuck.

  “I can’t believe you’d be willing to betray your own brother like that.”

  “You could say the same thing to Ellis,” Beau shot back.

  “My boyfriend is the most honorable man I’ve ever known,” I said, heading for the door.

  “Then why are you in my room?” Beau asked.

  “Exactly,” I said, shoving out the door and straight into Ellis’s arms.

  “Hey there,” he said, catching me. “We found her.” He glanced over his shoulder to Virginia, who stood right behind him.

  “This isn’t what it looks like,” I said as he took in Beau’s rumpled hair and half-done shirt.

  “It never is,” Ellis grumbled.

  The younger Wydell had the nerve to shoot Ellis a satisfied grin.

  “Grow up, Beau,” Ellis added, releasing me and taking my hand instead.

  Virginia rolled her eyes. “God bless my family before I kill them.”

  “I was investigating a ghost murder,” I told Ellis.

  Beau braced an elbow on the doorjamb. “I hear that’s what they’re calling it these days.”

  His mother shot him a withering look. “Stop causing trouble. We have enough.” Before I could enjoy her response too much, her accusing glare settled on me.

  Chapter 10

  “I’m just trying to help,” I said, holding my hands up.

  “You told my conductor to turn the train around,” Virginia declared.

  Oh, that.

  I glanced away and noticed Stephanie for the first time. She was leaning against a window in the hall like a catalog model. And she made no bones about sizing me up.

  Ellis placed himself between his mother and me. “I told Conductor Manning the same thing. We have no comms system, no backup navigation. It’s not smart to keep going.”

  “We’re moving ahead as scheduled,” Beau said over them both, and I could tell from the smug twist of his lips he said it just to spite his brother. Beau hadn’t even bothered with the issue until now. “I am the boss,” he reminded us.

  Virginia opened her mouth, presumably to tell him just where he could put his #1 Boss mug, when the door at the front of the train car slid open.

  A fifty-something redhead with short layered hair and solid, sun-freckled arms stepped into our car. She carried a glass of wine and appeared startled to see our party of five crowding the hallway.

  Virginia’s expression tightened into a benign, if somewhat fractured hostess smile. “Good evening.”

  “Sure.” The woman slid a key card into the door to compartment 8, keeping an eye on us.

  Ah, the journalist.

  She’d evidently made it up to the bar, or at least to the dining room, after Stephanie’s visit to her compartment earlier.

  The two shared a fleeting look.

  “I’m ready for bed, too,” Stephanie announced, slipping past the lot of us. She wrapped both her arms around one of Beau’s and leaned up, exposing her swan-like neck, her ruby lips hovering beside his ear. “As long as I have some handsome company,” she purred.

  Who did she think she was? Jessica Rabbit?

  Beau broke out into a wide, wolfish grin. “At last. A girl who knows what she wants.”

  Oh, ick. I would praise the day when Beau found a good woman to move on with, even if he didn’t deserve one. But Stephanie wasn’t it.

  She had another agenda. I could feel it in my bones.

  I watched, speechless, as she drew him into the room. The door slid closed behind them.

  Beau’s girlfriend hadn’t even blinked a false eyelash at the fact that I’d been alone with him in his room and then come bursting out faster than a greased thunderbolt.

  Ellis handled it fine because he trusted me. He knew I could manage his brother’s antics. But Stephanie should have at least questioned my business with her man.

  I ey
ed Virginia. She had to have noticed.

  “Bless your heart, Verity,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re trouble, but she’s worse.”

  “Goodnight, Mother,” Ellis said, touching a hand to the small of my back as we retreated to our room next door.

  “I’m not even offended,” I told him once we were out of earshot. I was glad Virginia would be keeping an eye on both of us. I had nothing to hide, but I wasn’t so sure about Stephanie.

  Ellis merely grunted and headed for the minibar next to the table by the window.

  “How long has Beau been seeing her?” I asked, skirting around him on my way to the closet attached to the vanity.

  “A couple of weeks.” Ellis appeared ready to say more, but he stopped himself and instead focused on unscrewing the cap on a bottle of water. He took a drink and stared out into the darkness and the shadows of the mountains rising up on all sides of us.

  I got it. I’d rather dance the polka with a porcupine than discuss Beau’s love life, but I couldn’t get around it. “Stephanie is up to something.”

  Her girlish giggle floated through the wall.

  “What gave it away?” he asked, taking a long swig of water.

  He wasn’t going to make this easy.

  “You know what I mean. Just now, the way she propositioned him in front of all of us, that’s not normal.”

  He paused to swallow, still not looking at me. “I try not to think too much about my brother’s love life.”

  I sighed and turned to the miniscule closet. If I could accomplish one thing, perhaps it would simply be to change out of my itchy, wine-stained dress.

  I reached past Frankie’s urn to grab my robe off the top shelf when Stephanie shrieked and giggled. That did it. I grabbed the hanger below and a simple green shift instead. No way was I staying in here to listen to…whatever they were doing.

  Ellis remained at the window.

  He was usually so observant, so ready to discuss a mystery as it unfolded. His brother had really gotten to him.

  Still, we were stuck and in trouble. After she had lied about knowing Ron and then snuck out of the dining room, I couldn’t help but think Stephanie had something to do with it.