Murder on the Sugarland Express

by Angie Fox

  I tried again. “It’s just that—”

  “Verity,” he snapped, his back to me, “let it go.”

  His words stung.

  Stricken, I ducked into the small bathroom to change. Ellis had never shut down on me like that. I didn’t know what to make of it.

  I understood that while Beau mostly annoyed me, this entire situation had a real ability to hurt Ellis. I just wasn’t sure what to do about it.

  I smoothed the green dress over my hips.

  Truth be told, I wasn’t too keen to head out with him anymore.

  He stood waiting for me when I stepped out of the bathroom.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “I shouldn’t have barked at you like that.” He hung his head. “My brother can be a sore spot.”

  “I get it.” I let out a sigh. “It’s all right. Really.”

  But Ellis didn’t look relieved. Not one little bit.

  He lifted his gaze to mine, his jaw so hard a muscle in his neck jumped. “I’m just so sick of the way Beau looks at you. It’s not your fault.”

  I nodded. “I didn’t encourage him.” He had to realize that.

  “I know.” He walked toward the window. “You avoid him whenever you can, but that doesn’t even matter to him.” He stared out at the darkness. “My baby brother expects to get whatever he wants, just because he wants it. Like it’s his due. It’s always been that way.” He gave a sharp laugh. “Hell, everyone back home expects him to get it too. With casseroles.”

  I wound my arms around his back. “Don’t pay any attention to the biddies back home.” I’d learned firsthand how fickle they could be. Beau might be the flashy younger son, but middle child Ellis was smart, loyal, and always there when anyone in Sugarland needed him. He’d chosen public service not for the attention or the praise, but because he believed it was the right thing to do. Ellis was worth ten Beau Wydells.

  He turned and drew me close, resting his chin on my head. “Everybody expects me to roll over on this one and give my brother what he wants, but I’m not going to do it.”

  “You’d better not.” I gave him a squeeze. “I’m certainly not going to give up so easily.”

  He gave a small chuckle, a real one this time. “You’re what’s keeping me sane.”

  I leaned up and gave him a kiss on the chin. “We’ll make it.”

  He smiled. “I know we will.”

  I was glad to hear him say it, and happy to see him smile as well. Ellis was a keeper. Not only was he a good man, but we also had the same ideas about life, love, and mystery solving.

  “This will cheer you up,” I said, stepping back, snagging his water bottle from the table by the window. “When you were up front, I saw Stephanie sneak off to meet with that journalist in compartment 8.” That got his attention. I took a swig of his water. “Stephanie also knows the man we saw in the dining car, Ron. I saw them talking in Kingstree.”

  “Nice work,” he said, genuinely impressed. I loved it when he took pride in my observations. “I’ll start keeping tabs on her too,” he promised, wincing when her amorous gasp rang out from the next compartment. “Except for now,” he added, offering me his hand. “Let’s—”

  “Go,” I finished for him, leaving my evening wrap behind as we escaped.

  * * *

  “To the bar,” Ellis said, already tugging me toward the front of the train.

  “A stiff drink sounds great,” I promised, “but I want to check on Molly first.”

  And, yes, I realized I was the one who’d vowed to let the ghosts enjoy their trip while we focused on ours, but that was before the trouble we’d encountered tonight.

  So I told him about Molly and Frankie’s appearance in the middle of the dinner table and the adventure after. “Molly discovered the ghostly body with me,” I explained, leading him toward the back of the train. “It really shook her up. I’d like to see how she’s doing.”

  “You’re just now mentioning that?” Ellis asked.

  “It’s been a busy night.”

  He didn’t argue.

  The first time I’d stumbled across a murder victim, I had nightmares for weeks. The second time, as well. Now, it was becoming too much of a habit, but it was still shocking and disturbing every time to witness a life snuffed out. Even if this one was a tragedy from the past, poor Molly had witnessed it up close and personal.

  Ellis and I shared a compartment in the very rear of the last passenger car. The two ghosts had holed up in the caboose, which should be right behind us.

  “It may be locked,” Ellis warned, pushing open the door at the back. We stepped out onto a small balcony. A metal walkway, fenced by two flimsy-looking railings, led to the caboose.

  “Didn’t your mom renovate this part?” I asked as the walkway swayed under our weight.

  He shot me a dubious look. “I doubt passengers are allowed back here, so this part might just be painted to look good to the casual observer.”

  “Great.” I tried not to think about what it would be like to walk here once the train started moving again.

  “It had to have passed inspection,” Ellis said, evidently trying to look on the bright side. “Whatever my mom might have done, I’m sure it’s standard practice.”

  The place still didn’t inspire much confidence.

  The warmth of the night seeped into my bones as I knocked on the door to an old-fashioned black caboose.

  “Molly?” I asked. “Sorry to interrupt,” I added, pushing the door open.

  What I saw made me stop short.

  It appeared as if Frankie had hitched a mountain cabin onto the back of our train. That was the only way I could think to describe it. My buddy was obviously the dominant ghost, which meant he could make the space appear the way he envisioned it.

  Typically, spirits used this ability to make their surroundings look the same as they did when they were alive. Frankie had used it to create a love nest.

  The interior of the caboose appeared four times larger than it actually was, with a roaring stone fireplace, an old-fashioned stargazing scope, and a ginormous king-sized bed in the corner.

  Only, Frankie was nowhere to be found.

  Molly sat by herself on a bearskin rug next to a bucket of champagne on ice, crying.

  “Sweetie,” I said, hurrying toward her.

  “He’s not here,” she said, scrambling to her feet. “I don’t know where he could have gone.”

  I resisted the urge to fold her into my arms. It wouldn’t be comforting for either of us. “Did you two have a fight?”

  “No,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I haven’t even seen him since the train stopped.” She sniffed, her eyes swollen and her cheeks flushed. “He said to stay out of our room until he came to get me. After we discovered that poor girl, I needed him. I figured he’d be here, or somewhere on the train, but he was nowhere to be found!”

  “That is strange,” I admitted. He couldn’t leave, not with his urn in my compartment. And while Frankie had a tendency to disappear on me, he’d never do that to his girl.

  “He was working on a surprise for me. I’ve been teasing him about wanting to play ‘hideout’ with a gangster.”

  That was too much information. “Okay, look. Frankie is way too into planning these kinds of dates for you,” I said, in the understatement of the year. “I’m sure he just lost track of time.” He was probably out gathering heart-shaped rocks or finding fake pistols that shot chocolate sauce.

  “No.” She shook her head vehemently. “He’s always on time.”

  “Frankie?” I asked. He’d come an hour late to my birthday party and he couldn’t even leave the property.

  Her eyes shone with tears. “I’m afraid something dreadful has happened.” She gulped. “I mean, first we find that dead girl and then Frankie goes missing.”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” I insisted, even though I was starting to get a bad feeling about it. If that young woman we’d found had been forced to reenact her own murder
, then we had a very demented, dark spirit to contend with if it was still on board.

  “Do you think I should search the train again?” she asked.

  “Ellis and I will do it.” Molly could move faster, but we didn’t know what we were up against, and she was in no state to be careful or discreet. “You stay put in case Frankie comes back.”

  She gave a weak nod and a smile. “I hope I didn’t start all of this when I met that girl.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I assured her. She was just a sweet Southern girl who liked to be friendly. “It’ll be all right,” I added, taking my leave.

  Ellis had watched the entire thing from the doorway, although he could only see and hear my side. “Frankie trouble?” He didn’t even bother to act surprised.

  “We need to find him,” I said. “She’s really worried.”

  He gave a quick nod. This was his territory. “Where did she see him last?” He allowed me ahead of him, no doubt keeping an eye on me as we returned to the main body of the train.

  “The dining car, I think,” I said, entering the familiar comfort of our passenger car. “That’s where they were right before the train stopped.”

  Ellis brushed a spiderweb out of my hair. “It’s amazing what you can get out of a hollowed-out, spider-infested caboose.”

  I smiled back at him. “Not to mention ghosts at the dinner table. Let’s go.”

  We made our way up, fully prepared to investigate the dining car, when an unexpected sight greeted us in the lounge.

  While it seemed as if most passengers had retreated to the bar or retired to bed, a lone couple in a pair of plush chairs at the far end leaned close in hushed conversation.

  A large piano stood behind them, and I stopped short when a potted palm between the piano and the wall rustled. I could swear I saw the shadow of a person hiding behind it, listening.

  “Ellis, Verity.” The woman’s head turned, and I saw it was Mary Jo Abel. She beckoned us over while her husband stood and met us halfway, shaking Ellis’s hand.

  “You look like you need to sit,” he said, gesturing to a pair of identical lounge chairs across from them.

  “In a minute.” I smiled, stepping behind the seating area and toward the sleek baby grand. Was someone spying on the Abels?

  That would be beyond strange, but it certainly wasn’t out of the question.

  “This is a lovely piano,” I mused, cautious as I approached the potted palm.

  “Ah, yes.” Ellis joined me. “I’ll bet it looks just like the original,” he added, with a nod to Dave.

  “Very high maintenance,” I accused as, lo and behold, I saw a familiar pair of ghostly wing-tipped shoes peeking out from behind a blue and white Asian pot.

  “Frankie’s in the plant,” I hissed into Ellis’s ear before beaming brightly at the couple we’d met on the restaurant patio.

  “Of course he is,” Ellis said, glancing up as the vent above us kicked on and sent a wave of cold air down onto the potted palm. The draft had caused the rustle, but I was looking at the real problem.

  “Get away,” Frankie hissed. “I’ve got this figured out!”

  “Obviously,” I drawled. I was about to say more when Dave Abel joined us.

  He adjusted his gold spectacles and grinned like he did in his Abel Windows and Doors commercials. “Gorgeous night, isn’t it?” He stood next to Ellis, taking in the view.

  Sometimes, I wished I could simply talk to my ghost in peace.

  Instead, I smiled brightly and went to join Mary Jo.

  I could not fathom, and probably didn’t want to know, exactly what Frankie had done in the past two hours that had him reduced to skulking behind the foliage, but there was nothing I could do about it right now.

  Except bide my time and hope he stayed there.

  I took the chair across from Mary Jo, the one by the window with a nice view of the piano and the potted palm.

  “Isn’t it terrible?” Mary Jo asked before I’d even smoothed my dress over my knees. “We thought this would be the trip of a lifetime, and instead we’re stranded on a desolate route in the middle of the night. I’ll bet Dave’s train club buddies wouldn’t be so jealous now.”

  “It’s not even eleven o’clock,” I said, checking my watch. “I’m sure we’ll be on our way soon.”

  “Dave might love his classic trains, but I’ve about had it.” Mary Jo leaned forward in her chair. “First night of the trip and we’ve had a near wreck on an unsafe track. Not to mention a botched dinner. I’m getting hungry.”

  “I brought granola bars,” Dave said, as if he’d been saying it for the past hour. He glanced behind him as the waiter slipped into the car with a bottle of wine and a tray full of glasses. “I’ll just be happy when my cell phone works again.”

  “Complimentary refill?” the waiter asked as he filled their glasses. That brought Dave and Ellis back into the circle. The waiter placed two more glasses on the small round table in front of us.

  “Wine for you as well?” He lowered the tip of the bottle toward Ellis and me.

  “I’ll pass,” I told him. The way tonight was stacking up, I needed my wits about me.

  “Fill it halfway, thanks,” Ellis said, joining me, his gaze on the potted palm, as if he could flush Frankie out by sheer force of will.

  Dave took the seat opposite Ellis and tried his phone again. “I should have checked in with my office hours ago. We’re working overtime to wrap up a music hall restoration job in Memphis, and it kills me to be out of touch, but there’s no signal out here.” He glanced at the retreating waiter. “They had a hotspot on board, but word is that it was wiped out, along with the entire communications system. It’s unbelievable.”

  “You know trains,” Ellis said, “how hard would it be to sabotage a system like that?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, as if he were merely curious.

  “Not bad. You’d just have to beat the hell out of it,” Dave said, “which is why this is so disturbing. Haven’t these people heard of a door lock?”

  “Did you see the damage?” Ellis asked.

  “They wouldn’t let me look,” he huffed, “as if I’m the problem.” He ran a hand under his chin. “I couldn’t fix it anyway. Word has it they were running the XPL system on overdrive. It’s housed in steel casing with a backup system with built-in wiring, but that doesn’t do you any good against a punk with a baseball bat.”

  “I’m sure the room was locked.” Ellis’s mother never left anything to chance. “Someone either picked the lock or had a key.”

  “Whatever security they had, it wasn’t enough,” Mary Jo said, as if the rockfall and sabotage were Virginia’s fault.

  “I realize you’re frustrated,” I said. We all were. “But I wouldn’t blame the people who renovated the train. You might not know Virginia Wydell, but I do, and she doesn’t do anything halfway.”

  Ellis shot me a curious glance.

  What? I raised my brows. I was telling the truth.

  I might not want Virginia planning my life or judging my romantic prospects with her son, but she was an excellent businesswoman. I had to give her that.

  Besides, despite my perfect justification in disliking her, I was starting to feel sorry for her. She worked too hard to be criticized for events she couldn’t control. Especially when Beau would no doubt steal the limelight when things went right.

  Maybe I did need a stiff drink.

  Dave patted his wife on the hand. “We should be fine if the train’s navigation systems are still working. And even if they’re not, we’re the only ones on these remote tracks. There’s nothing to do but press forward.” She shot him a worried glance. “We can’t call for help and we’re already in the mountains.”

  “We could go backwards,” I suggested, hoping for an ally.

  “Too risky,” Dave said. “There’s no driving cab at the rear of this train. Just a decorative, hollowed-out caboose.”

  “Mrs. Wydell gave him a private tour this afternoon,�
�� Mary Jo said with an affectionate eye roll.

  “She did.” Dave nodded. “From the spiderwebs, I’d say she wasn’t expecting me to ask. Still, there’s no way to navigate the train on that end. If the engineer tried to drive backwards, he wouldn’t be able to see where he was going.”

  “Darn.” I winced. I hadn’t thought of that.

  “At least we’ll be traveling slower now,” Dave said, trying to reassure me.

  It had the opposite effect. I shot a worried glance to Ellis. “It would be nice to be out of these mountains as soon as possible.”

  “The scenery is supposed to be the main attraction,” Mary Jo said, shaking her head.

  “I’ll talk to the conductor,” Ellis said.

  “Won’t do any good.” Dave took a sip of his wine. “Now that we’re in the mountains, a restored train like this can’t travel more than thirty-five miles per hour. Any faster is too dangerous on these tracks.”

  “Lovely.” I didn’t relish being isolated in the backwoods, even if we were moving.

  Just then, I spotted a ghostly figure out the window. He wore a conservative black 1920s-style suit and a fedora. He glanced over his shoulder as if to assure himself he was alone. Then he shone a light on the ground near the tracks.

  I looked to Frankie, who had moved to the other side of the palm, away from the other ghost. The gangster held a sheet of music over his face, reading it like a newspaper. Frankie was obviously avoiding the stranger.

  This might be the dangerous spirit Molly had seen.

  “Would you like to go for a moonlight walk with me?” I asked Ellis. At his questioning glance, I added, “It’s a lovely evening, and the train is stopped.”

  Mary Jo followed my gaze. “Out there? At this hour? Oh, honey. That’s not safe.”

  “The train could start without you on it,” Dave added.

  The man on the tracks raised his chin and looked directly at me.

  “Stay away from him,” Frankie’s voice sounded in my ear, sending chills down my neck.

  Maybe I should, but that ghost might have seen what had happened out on the tracks tonight. He might have witnessed a spirit fleeing the train after the murder of the young woman in compartment 9.