The Butterfly Conspiracy

by James Nelson

  Stephen grinned.

  “Not everyone from Bastion is from a famous family. But you would probably know my mother, Stella Moorehouse and my father is...”

  “Stella Moorehouse from the game show ‘What’s My Story’?” Dom interrupted. Stephen laughed.

  “Yes, that would be her.” Stephen knew his mother would not be happy to hear that response. Now days she prided herself on her numerous charity works. She would rather have been associated with her movie credits ten years earlier, than to be known from that silly game show. Stephen had heard her rant and rave about this topic on many occasions.

  “So that means your father is the up and coming Broadway playwright, Martin Moorehouse, as in “Justice at Nuremburg, right?”

  “That would be him,” Stephen agreed.

  “I saw that play last year and I thought it was brilliant,” Dom said. “Very thought provoking.”

  Stephen and Dominick passed the time talking about their destinations, trading reasons why they thought the train was better than flying.

  “I was supposed to be backpacking in Europe with my girlfriend.” Stephen said. “But she sort of dumped me at the last minute and now I’m on my way to visit my uncle for the summer.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Stephen. I know it’s rough being dumped by a woman. We’ve all been there, that’s for sure. A handsome lad like yourself should spring back quickly,” Dom remarked. “But surely northern Michigan will be pretty sparse in the bevy of beautiful women department, compared to New York City, right?”

  “You might be surprised. My uncle is a Hollywood director and I’m hoping his estate is teeming with actresses.”

  “No kidding? So, who’s your uncle?”

  “Phillip Kahle.”

  “Oh, yes. I loved his horror movies from a few years ago. Very campy!”

  After the second cup of coffee, Dominick suggested they order some dinner.

  Halfway through the meal, Dom asked Stephen, “See that man sitting over there who almost knocked over the waiter?”

  Stephen looked, then reached down and grabbed his sketch book. He flipped open several pages and asked, “This guy?”

  “Yes, that’s the guy. You’ve captured him quite nicely. Do you know him?”

  “What? No, why would you think I know him?” Stephen asked.

  “Actually, no reason, but he seems to be staring at us a little more than normal. Probably nothing, I just was wondering.”

  Stephen thought he was probably staring at Dom’s toupee, but said instead, “No, I’ve never seen him before. I’m sure he’s just bored and aimlessly looking around the coach. There’s nothing special about me to be looking at.”

  With dinner finished, the waiter cleared their table and Stephen and Dom returned to the passenger car.

  The evening was spent watching the lights of the countryside pass by, with pauses interrupted by talk of art school, business, and sports.

  Around eleven thirty, Stephen excused himself for the night, heading to the view liner roomette his uncle had reserved. Dom said goodnight indicating he was going to sleep in the passenger car.

  Paulie was fighting to stay awake when he noticed the kid get up and move past him. Trying not to look too obvious, he rose and followed Stephen from a distance. Paulie followed as Stephen walked through the next passenger car, the dining car and entered the sleeper coach section. Dom observed what was transpiring and decided to get up and follow them both.

  Since he hadn’t booked any sleeping accommodations, Paulie figured the best place to keep on eye on the kid was in the nearest passenger car to the sleeper coach. As Paulie returned through the dining car, he passed Dom in the aisle, glaring at him.

  Paulie entered the passenger car and found an empty seat close to the door. He tossed his hat in the seat next to him, took off his suit coat and draped it over himself like a blanket.

  Dom followed from a distance, picking a seat four rows behind and sat down. Dom wanted to keep an eye on that big goon who seemed to be following Stephen.

  Stephen entered the sleeper car. He stepped in and looked around. Not bad, he thought. The room was small, about three and a half feet by seven. It had an upper berth and two reclining seats that looked like they could be made into a bed, if necessary. There was a small toilet and sink with a shower area down the hall. Stephen popped up a little table which faced a window with curtains and sat in one of the reclining seats. He stared out the window as the countryside passed by.

  Stephen took out Jill’s letter and started to read it again. He got half way through and crumpled the letter up in a ball. Why dwell on the past, he thought. This trip is the start of a brand new future. He tossed it into the garbage can.

  After twenty minutes, Stephen was getting tired. He got ready for bed, pulling the window curtains closed and jumped up into the berth. Stephen fell asleep to the clicking sounds of the rails moving rhythmically beneath him.

  The next morning, Stephen stirred as the rising sun brightened the window behind the curtains. At first he was confused as to where he was. He had been dreaming about seeing Jill walking down a street in Paris with another guy. In the dream, as he approached them, Jill pointed to Stephen and started to laugh.

  It was then he had stirred himself awake. He glanced out at the passing landscape and tried to get into a happier mood. Stephen dressed quickly and decided to see if Dom would like to have a cup of coffee or some breakfast. Maybe conversation with his new friend would help to cheer him up.

  Stephen carefully navigated the distance from the sleeper to the adjoining passenger car. He gave a start as he saw the big guy in the suit, sleeping next to the door. Stephen saw Dom sitting a few rows behind him. Dom put his finger to his lips motioning towards the dining car. Stephen nodded and turned around. Walking quietly past the sleeping Paulie, Dom noticed a huge book, with pictures of butterflies, open on his lap.

  Seated in the dining car, Dom briefed Stephen on what had happened during the night.

  Dom asked, “Why would this guy get up and go to the sleeper coach at the same time you did, then turn around and park himself in the car closer to you, if he wasn’t following you?”

  “Maybe he just wanted a quieter place to sleep?”

  “Well, there were fewer people in that car,” Dom agreed.

  “That’s got to be it. Why anyone want to be following me?”

  Dom glanced at the entrance to the dining car.

  “Don’t look now, but guess who just walked in.”

  Paulie walked by trying not to look at Stephen. It was evident he had just woken up. His hair was a mess. Paulie’s face showed an overnight growth of whiskers and his suit was a mass of wrinkles. As Paulie walked in, Stephen turned his face to the window.

  The landscape rushing past was pale grey with a soft mist covering farm fields intersected by small thickets of woods. Dom and Stephen ordered breakfast.

  Around nine thirty, the Lake Shore Limited came around a bend and the sky-scrapers of downtown Chicago could be seen in the far distance.

  “It looks like we’re getting into Chicago,” Stephen said to Dom. “Thanks for making the time go by quickly and thanks for watching out for me.”

  “I enjoyed meeting you, Stephen. Keep your eyes peeled, if you know what I mean? Once you get to the station, you should call your father and let him know what’s been happening.”

  The train jerked to a stop. Paulie finished his coffee as he watched Stephen get up and head out of the dining car.

  Chapter 4

  Chicago’s Union Station had the look of being built in the early 1900’s. Stephen gazed up at the arched ceiling of the great hall, at least one hundred feet above his head. Corinthian columns stood on polished marble floors. Since it was only ten o’clock in the morning, and his train to Milwaukee didn’t leave till five, Stephen decided to take advantage of the time and spend the day at the Art Institute.

  He stored his bags in a locker and pulled out a map he had brought with h
im from New York. Thinking about calling his father, Stephen walked over to a pay phone. He hesitated. Since this was his first real trip away by himself, it would not look good if he needed to call home in a panic over some wild story about being followed by a stranger. He decided to wait and see if anything else happened. He could always tell Uncle Phillip, once he got to Michigan.

  The sky was clear as he headed down Jackson Street towards Michigan Avenue. It was a little more than a mile and it felt good to be walking outside after being cooped up on the train for so long. Before he knew it, Stephen was climbing the steps to The Art Institute, with its signature giant green patina lions elegantly standing guard on either side.

  Paulie was following a block behind. He almost lost track of Stephen when what appeared to be a swamp Metalmark butterfly flitted by. Without thinking, Paulie turned and followed the butterfly a few steps before losing it into some bushes. Could that really have been a Metalmark? Paulie chalked it up to wishful thinking, because Metalmarks were way too rare, and he didn’t notice any swamp thistle growing in the middle of Chicago’s busy metropolis.

  Stephen picked up a display pamphlet and strolled up the stairs to Gunsaulus Hall. Japanese collections lined the corridor but Stephen hardly glanced at them. As he approached McKinlock Court, Stephen paused to check out a display of sketches by Thomas Addison Richards. A sign explained that Richards was an artist who traveled the south in the 1800s. Stephen thought how excited Jill would be to hear about his visit to the museum. Jill loved art as much as Stephen. A crushing reality hit him as he remembered that he would not be having any more discussions with her.

  He stepped back to get a better view. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone enter the gallery. It was the same big guy from the train. Stephen recognized the wrinkled suit. They made eye contact for a fleeting second as the burly man entered the gallery. The man quickly turned and walked over to examine a collection of paintings on the other side of the room.

  Stephen’s heart began to beat faster. He tried to calculate what the odds would be that this guy would happen to take the same train from New York to Chicago, have a fellow passenger suspicious of him, and then have him show up in the same gallery of the museum. He didn’t like the odds.

  Stephen turned into the sculpture room located to the right of McKinlock Court. As he entered the room he thought, I need to find out once and for all if this guy is following me.

  Stephen jogged halfway through the court and quickly ducked behind a statue that looked to be a cross between a man in a suit of armor and some kind of bionic robot. He held his breath pressing himself tightly behind the big sculpture. He counted off the seconds, “thousand one, thousand two, thousand three.” Stephen listened but did not hear anyone pass by. After what seemed like half an hour, he slowly peered out into the gallery. No one was there.

  He slipped quietly from behind the statue and started to walk around the sculpture court. He was the only one in the room. Stephen breathed a sigh of relief and thought about Dom. His crazy talk, combined with traveling alone for the first time, must have worked together to create a feeling of paranoia. Stephen resolved to calm down and enjoy the rest of the exhibits. He consulted the map and headed towards Rubloff Auditorium.

  Paulie panicked when he had run straight into the kid. That encounter was way too close. He did not want to be recognized or discovered following his prey. The long open hallways did not provide ideal conditions for tailing someone. Paulie decided to head back to the train depot in hopes that the kid returned through the same Jackson Street entrance he left from.

  By four o’clock, Stephen had seen most of The Art Institute and had enjoyed a quick lunch. He decided it was time to get back to Union Station. On the walk back, Stephen reviewed all of the great art he had experienced. Periodically he glanced behind him to make sure no one was following him.

  Paulie was in a perfect position to see Stephen enter Union Station. He watched as Stephen retrieved his bags and headed for No. 339, the Hiawatha Service. Still spooked from his face to face encounter, Paulie was determined not to get too close again. He waited several minutes after Stephen got on the train before attempting to board. Paulie approached the train.

  “Ticket, please.”

  A burly conductor held out his hand. Paulie folded over a twenty dollar bill.

  “Here you go, buddy. Keep the change.” Paulie said, as he walked past the man.

  “Hold it, Mister You gotta have a ticket. Ticket window’s over there.” The conductor indicated with a nod.

  Paulie was in a panic. He didn’t want the train to leave without him. What would he tell Al. He ran over to the ticket booth.

  “I need a ticket for that train,” Paulie said, pointing to the 339.

  “What is your destination, sir? Are you going to Milwaukee?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Give me a ticket to Milwaukee.”

  Paulie grabbed the ticket, rushed back to the conductor, and climbed onto the train. He grabbed the first seat he could find and decided to worry about spotting Stephen when they got to Milwaukee.

  About quarter to seven, the Hiawatha Service pulled into the Milwaukee Station. Stephen grabbed his bags and headed to the lobby. There was a two hour wait which passed quickly and around nine o’clock Stephen boarded a bus for the Upper Michigan city of Escanaba. Stephen took a window seat.

  The Milwaukee Depot was not nearly as crowded as Chicago’s Union Station. Paulie stayed in the shadows and thought he would have a much easier time boarding the same bus Stephen got on. As a precaution, Paulie removed his hat and suit coat and combed his hair so his part was on the opposite side. Again, he waited to board the bus a few minutes after Stephen. Paulie took a seat in the front.

  Stephen sat down and tried to stay awake. It had been a long day and he had nearly nodded off before the bus even pulled out of the terminal. He tried to concentrate on the landscape rolling by the window and noticed that as the cities were getting smaller, they were also further apart. Rural landscapes became the norm. Around midnight, Stephen tried to get some sleep. He wasn’t expected to arrive in Escanaba until sometime around three thirty and he didn’t want to be dead tired when Uncle Phillip picked him up.

  Paulie was also having a hard time staying awake. It was getting hot on the bus. Since he didn’t know where Stephen was headed, he needed to be awake to see every passenger depart at each stop.

  As the cities disappeared, Paulie started feeling uneasy. He watched as thick forests replaced rolling farmlands. Several times he saw deer standing along the highway. The familiar city sounds he experienced in Milwaukee were replaced by silence. He was feeling very uncomfortable. Just after two o’clock, the bus pulled into Menominee and three passengers got off. Paulie slept soundly through the stop.

  As the bus pulled out of the small depot, Paulie rubbed his eyes and snapped awake. He jumped to his feet and scanned the bus. He breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted Stephen, leaning against the window, fast asleep. Paulie vowed to stay awake for the rest of the trip, no matter how long it took.

  Chapter 5

  It was four fifteen when the bus pulled into the Escanaba bus depot. Not so much a bus depot really, but a small room tacked on to a bowling alley. Two bars and a diner were conveniently located across the street, but at this time of morning, everything was closed. A lonely cab was parked just across from the bowling alley.

  Stephen joined four other passengers as they stumbled out of the bus, all half awake. He stepped into the bright fluorescently lit room and looked around for his uncle. It had been several years since he had seen Uncle Phillip during a brief visit to New York City, but Stephen didn’t think he would have any trouble recognizing him again.

  Just as he had determined none of the people in the bus terminal could possibly be him, the door swung open and Stephen recognized the man walking in.

  Uncle Phillip stood 6’2” with closely trimmed blond hair. He sported a California tan, which made him stand out in the
midst of the pale mid-westerners around him. Stephen remembered him as being very outgoing and he always seemed to have smile on his face. Stephen strode up to him.

  “Hello, Uncle Phillip.”

  Phillip took a second to respond.

  “Stephen, is that you? My, how you’ve grown. I was looking for someone much shorter! It’s been about thee years, yes?”

  Stephen remembered his uncle’s slight German accent. “Yes, I think it has been that long.”

  Phillip reached down, “Let me help you with your things.”

  Phillip grabbed one of Stephen’s bags and they walked to the car. He opened the trunk of a Porsche and tossed in the bag.

  “Tonight we stay at the House of Ludington Hotel. I think you will like it. It’s on Lake Michigan. I knew you would be tired, so I thought it would be best that we didn’t drive the 120 miles to Grand View this late. Too many deer.” Phillip gave a laugh, “And I drive too fast in this fancy car”

  Paulie ran over to the waiting cab.

  “Where to, Mister?” the cabbie asked.

  “Follow that Porsche”.

  Stephen jumped into the car and froze. “Uncle Phillip, see that man talking to the cabbie?”

  “Yes.”

  “You won’t believe this, but I think he’s been following me this whole trip. All the way from Penn Station.”

  “Stephen, is that so?” Phillip asked with a look of disbelief on his face.

  “No, I mean it. Even another person I met on the train thought so and that was before we even arrived in Chicago. He followed me when I walked to the Art Institute and now he’s here in Escanaba.”

  “Well, I guess it could be.” Phillip said, noticing his look had upset his nephew. “But, we do get visitors from all over the world to our beautiful Upper Peninsula every now and then.” Phillip paused for a moment. “Is there a reason why someone would be following you?”

  Stephen thought for a moment, “Well, no…”