by Angie Fox
Frankie huffed. “Word has it she doesn’t like the living.”
“That’s all right,” I said, warming to my role. “Ghosts like me.”
“You have a selective memory.”
Okay, so some took a bit of work to get to know. “You’ll help me talk to them. We’ll get everybody chatting.”
“It’s like you enjoy this,” he groused.
“Hey.” I lifted a finger at him. “I’m trying to save these people.”
“And I’m trying to impress my girl, but there’s no time to interview all our suspects individually. And there are no other clues. Nothing else to do.” His face fell. “Except hide out from De Clercq and let Molly watch me fail.”
“I don’t think sulking in my underwear drawer is the answer.”
“It’s a lost cause.” He faced me, arms out to the sides. “I don’t like it, either, but that’s the reality. You and Molly think you can save the world. She expects me to be some hero cop, but I can’t fix this. Nobody can.”
I was getting fed up with his attitude. “We still have time,” I insisted. Not much, but we could be efficient. “We’ll just have to get them all together at once,” I added, pacing the short area in front of the window. “We might even be able to read the situation better that way. Only my compartment is too small. The caboose is private—”
“See? Here’s where you’ve got it all wrong. You’re not thinking like a ghost,” he said. “The Green Lady haunts the library. If we want a squirrely spirit like her talking, we gotta go where she’s comfortable.”
Good information. “See?” I asked. “This is why I need you.”
He blew out a breath. “If we can pull this off, I’m aces,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“We’ll do it in the library,” I said. It was secluded near the front of the train. I’d never seen anyone in there.
“Midnight,” Frankie said, stamping out his cigarette onto my carpet.
“No. That’s cutting it too close. We’ll do it now.”
He snorted like I’d asked him to the prom. “I gotta find everybody and let them know. Besides, it’s quieter then, easier to haunt.”
“Fine. Midnight,” I said, facing him. “In the library.”
He nodded, fading away. “I’ll see you then.”
Chapter 17
I spent the afternoon wondering about the clue Frankie had shown me. It was possible the killer had dropped the piece of paper next to the body by mistake. It could have belonged to the dead girl. Either way, I couldn’t make sense of the message: 14/00 crow’s nest.
What crow’s nest? We were on a train, not a ship.
I pondered the mystery while I also jumped at every noise I heard out in the hall. I didn’t like being alone with a real live killer on the loose.
And when the sun had faded to streaks of orange and gold, and my compartment door rattled and edged open, I felt no shame in scrambling off the couch and greeting Ellis in a fighting position, with one kitten heel poised and ready to strike.
“It’s you,” I said, the fight draining out of me as I returned my weapon to my foot.
“Tough day?” he asked, sliding the door closed behind him.
How bad was it that he didn’t even appear surprised?
“I’m so glad to see you,” I said, attacking him with a hug. His chest felt rock solid under my cheek, and for the first time all day, I felt safe.
“I questioned everyone on board,” he said, his voice vibrating against my ear. “Every last one of them claims to have an alibi.”
“Dang,” I said, lifting away from him. “How is that possible?”
He let out a frustrated sigh. “Half the alibis come from other passengers or crew members, who could be lying. Some people were just alone at the time. Sleeping, or so they said. Hard to argue when the killer struck overnight.”
I moved to the couch and sat, smoothing my skirt under me. “What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to keep at it,” he said, taking a seat next to me, “and trust ourselves to catch a break.” He rested an arm on the back of the couch. “Any luck with the spooks?”
Soon, I hoped. “We’re gathering the ghosts tonight at the stroke of midnight. I’m helping Frankie solve the mystery of the murdered girl from the 1920s, and while I’m at it, I’m going to see if any of the ghosts can give us insight into Stephanie’s death.”
He tugged me close. “Want me to go?”
“Not for this.” I didn’t think the spirits would take kindly to us bringing more of the living. Some of them could be quite skittish. “You know what would help,” I said, turning to face him, “if you could hang out in the hall and act as our lookout. That way, we won’t be disturbed.” I hesitated. “Of course, then you’d be alone in the hallway late at night with a murderer on the loose.” I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to him.
The corner of his mouth cocked up. “I can handle it,” he said, gesturing to the spot at the small of his back.
He’d brought his police-issue gun on our vacation, which I’d deemed cute on the drive to Kingstree. Now, I was quite glad Ellis was always prepared.
“Frankie showed me a clue this afternoon,” I said, “for the ghostly murder, not Stephanie. Neither one of us could figure it out.” I told him about the slip of paper found with the body. “14/00 crow’s nest. It’s a strange message.”
“It is.” Ellis leaned back, running a hand over his mouth. “All it tells us is that a meeting likely took place at fourteen hundred hours in the cupola of the caboose,” he said, “so we’d need to know why—”
“Wait. Hold it.” I grabbed his arm. “How did you get that from what I said?”
“Well, I’m assuming somebody did a slash instead of a few dots in order to camouflage a time for a secret meeting,” he said. “I could be wrong, but if they’re giving a location, then it makes sense they’d give a time.”
“The caboose does have a little top on it,” I said, amazed at how quickly he’d made it make sense.
“Probably a small upper floor used as an observation area. Hence the term crow’s nest,” he reasoned.
“Of course.” Dang. If he was right, this could be big. I gave him a big kiss on the cheek. “You should be a police officer.”
He grinned. “It’s like it was meant to be.”
I settled back against the cushions next to him. “So either our killer or our victim—”
“Or both,” Ellis interjected.
I nodded. “One or both had a secret meeting at 2:00 p.m. in the caboose. Most likely on the day of the murder, since the note was found with the body.” I looked to him. “I don’t know what to do with that.”
“Find ghostly evidence,” he supplied.
“I am good at that,” I said wryly.
And as if I’d said “Beetlejuice” three times (which I would never, because who knows what would show up?) Frankie took form directly in front of us.
“That’s brilliant!” he exclaimed. “I’m on it!”
The things that ghost would do to impress a girl. “I’ll go with you,” I said, standing.
Frankie held a hand up. “You’re staying here. I’m getting Molly and De Clercq, and they’re both gonna watch me crack this case wide open.”
“Frankie,” I admonished. I didn’t trust him in that cupola. “Who’s the real detective here?”
“He is,” he said, pointing at Ellis.
Fair enough. But it would take De Clercq two minutes to discover Frankie didn’t know clues from spiderwebs. “Listen to me—”
The gangster pointed a warning finger at me. “You steal my glory and I swear I’ll be so depressed I’ll camp in here all night.”
Lord in heaven. Not that. The quicker he stopped popping up in our compartment, the better. Besides, if I wanted him to grow, I’d have to give him room to do it. “Fine,” I said. He was a smart guy. Mostly. And he’d seen me look for clues plenty of times. “See what you can find and r
eport back.”
He gave me a salute, which was not what detectives did, but before I could even think to explain it, he’d disappeared.
* * *
Naturally, Frankie didn’t report back.
“How long does it take to check a small room?” I asked, tempted to go find him.
“Let him go,” Ellis instructed. “He may be doing better than you think.”
“Have you met Frankie?” I asked.
“Actually, no.” Ellis handed me a bottle of sweet tea from the mini bar. “He was before my time.” And Ellis couldn’t see ghosts.
But his meaning was clear. And Ellis had a point. We needed to hang tight and focus on what we could control. At the moment, it wasn’t much.
So we ordered room service and had a picnic dinner on the floor of our compartment. He needed to unwind after the difficult day, and perhaps find a new perspective on his case. I needed to let go of the idea that Frankie had blown his cover and was soon to be under house arrest with me for all of eternity.
We talked, we told stories about Lucy—we both missed that furry little skunk—and then Ellis distracted me in the best way possible. For a few hours, I nearly forgot what we were about to face—until the alarm on Ellis’s watch sounded.
He clicked it off, while I opted to bury my face against his shoulder. “Eleven thirty,” he announced. “Time to go.”
“I regret telling you to set it so early.”
“Nah, you were smart,” he said, running a hand through my hair. “It’ll be good to scope out the library before the meeting.”
It would. I forced myself to sit up and smooth my dress.
I was curious why the Green Lady haunted the library. Was it merely the place she’d been when she died, or had I missed something upon my initial inspection of the space?
Ellis pushed off the floor and reached down to give me a hand. “You’re thinking pretty loud down there.”
I let him pull me up. “If Frankie doesn’t show up, I won’t know if he’s irresponsible or under arrest.”
“If he’s not there, we do it on our own,” Ellis said, planting a kiss on my forehead.
We stepped out into the hall. I ran my fingers through my mussed hair and looked both ways.
“Nobody out and about,” I murmured, “dead or alive.”
“Speaking for the living,” Ellis hedged, “I don’t think anyone is in the mood after what happened today.”
He hesitated as we passed compartment 9.
“Where’s Beau staying tonight?” Ellis wouldn’t have let him back in the room, not without calling in a local evidence team first.
“With our mother,” Ellis said, continuing on.
Well, that would dampen any party boy’s night.
We made our way up through the train. On what should be a night of intimate dinners and celebration, we found the social cars deserted and the bar closed down. An eerie silence had settled over the train, like the calm before the storm.
I didn’t like it. It was more than just people turning in early.
The observation car lay dark, the moonlight glowing through the exposed glass, casting odd shadows as the train raced headlong through the wilderness toward its ghostly demise.
Security lights glowed dully against the walls. I hastened through the abandoned car, as if one of the shadows behind us would reach out and grab me at any moment.
“You okay?” Ellis called after me as I plunged into the darkness between cars.
“Fine,” I breathed out, feeling his presence right behind me.
At least I hoped and prayed that was him.
Then I pushed out into the shadowy library car beyond and stopped short. A ghostly glow radiated from behind the half-closed door.
It seemed we hadn’t arrived first, after all.
“This is it,” I whispered.
Ellis placed a hand on my shoulder, letting me know he understood.
A woman in a kimono stood with her back to us, running her fingertips over a shelf of titles. Her image glowed a smoky green at the edges in a way I’d never seen on any other spirit. Most ghosts lost their color as they aged, and even though her image had faded to shades of gray and black, the dusky green tinge clung to her like an extension of her very nature.
Her dark hair was woven in a series of intricate knots. Polished, dark wood bookshelves surrounded her on three sides, and it appeared as if she was searching for a particular tome.
According to the ghost conductor, the Green Lady haunted the library. It could be that she’d died here when the train crashed into the river. Many ghosts felt a special connection to the place where they’d met their end. I could actually see traces of spectral energy, or soul traces, from spirits who had recently departed. But those spots faded over time and would be long gone in this case.
She paused, and I held my breath, trying to remain undetected.
The Green Lady glanced over her shoulder, and I pulled away from the door. But not before I saw her face.
I’d half-expected a Japanese woman, given the kimono. Or perhaps I just hadn’t expected her.
Sharp cheekbones, piercing dark eyes, and an angular nose combined to form an arresting beauty reminiscent of old Hollywood. But she was no young ingénue. She’d lived, that much was written on her features. She couldn’t have been older than thirty when she died, yet she wore her worldliness like armor.
She slowly turned back to the bookshelf, and I let out a silent sigh of relief.
The ghost pulled a book from the shelf and turned away, appearing to read with great interest for only a few short moments. She returned the book to its place and stood in front of it, hands clasped in front of her, as if on guard.
I tried to memorize the spot. Third shelf from the top, shoulder height, gray glowing book with scripted lettering down the side. Fifteenth…maybe sixteenth from the right. Either way, I’d find it.
Perhaps the Green Lady hadn’t died in the library after all. Perhaps this was her hiding spot.
“Ellis?” Virginia’s voice sounded from the hall behind me. “What are you doing?”
“Mom, you’re up,” Ellis said in a loud whisper, obviously trying to keep it down. “Let’s go somewhere else.”
Virginia’s voice drew closer. “Of course I’m up. I’m working. Why are you outside my office?”
My heart sank as the Green Lady disappeared.
I turned. Virginia stood directly behind me, scowling.
“Well?” she prodded, as if I owed her the explanation.
“I was observing a ghost,” I said, keeping my voice low in case the Green Lady was around to overhear.
“You—” Virginia began. Then understanding dawned. “Ohh…” She had the grace to appear slightly chagrined as she glanced from me to Ellis. “Well, keep at it,” she ordered. “I’ll be in my office.” She turned toward her small office located next to the library.
“Mom, you really can’t,” Ellis said, as if he were expecting an argument.
Virginia hesitated. “Fine,” she snapped. “I’ll be in my compartment.” She waved a hand. “With your snoring brother.”
That was more like it.
“Just make it worth my while,” she instructed.
“I’ll try,” I told her, biting my tongue. There was no use lecturing her on what she’d done. It wouldn’t bring my ghost back.
I turned back toward the library and sighed. Her interruption had come at the worst possible time. It had appeared as if the Green Lady had been in the middle of something important.
Then again, while I had the place to myself, I was going to determine exactly what was so special about that book.
“Come on.” I motioned to Ellis. “Before your mom popped up, the Green Lady was here. I’m going to see what she was doing.” I hated to touch the ghost book. Ghostly objects that I handled tended to disappear shortly after. But I needed to know what was in there, and it wouldn’t be gone forever. The ghosts could conjure it back at any time.
Right. Anyone else wandering the darkened train might not be as friendly or as loud as Virginia.
I snorted at the idea of Virginia being the baseline for friendly.
“What?” Ellis asked from the hall.
“Nothing,” I mused, counting down from the right side of the bookshelf.
And just when I’d located the volume in question—Sir Charles Fouchet’s Study of West Indian Botany—I was interrupted by the sharp slap of a hand against wood.
Virginia… Dang it. Ellis said he’d keep her under control.
I turned and saw Inspector De Clercq standing in the doorway, glaring daggers at me.
Oh, well, no wonder Ellis hadn’t seen him.
The detective’s moustache twitched as he stared me down in some sort of old-fashioned power play, evidently waiting for me to make the first move.
“Hi,” I said as cheerfully as I could. If I couldn’t beat ’im at surprise hand-slapping, I’d kill him with kindness.
He wasn’t amused.
Well, I wasn’t, either. He was dead wrong if he thought I was going to let him dismiss me or intimidate me. I was on his side, and it would be nice if he started acting that way. We had less than twenty-four hours before the ghost train went off the bridge, and we didn’t have time for him to sell me short because I was a live woman instead of a dead man.
De Clercq strolled into the library with precise, measured steps. “Miss Long,” he said, clipping each syllable.
“Verity,” I suggested.
“Officer Lawson told me about you.”
“He’ll always be Frankie to me.”
De Clercq twirled the tip of his moustache. “He said you like to meddle.”
More like solve everything, but who was keeping track?
He stopped in front of me. “I don’t like meddlers. And I don’t like the living.”
I held my ground. “Frankie is expecting me to be here.”
He glared at me, his eye sockets growing hollow, sinking down into his skin until I could see the bone of his skull. Holy cripes.