Paige MacKenzie Mysteries Box Set

by Deborah Garner

  “Um… so, hobo code, you were saying…” Paige turned back toward the markings as she attempted to regain her breath. She leaned down to look at them again.

  “Yes, I think someone put those marks there as a warning to stay away from the car,” Jake said, inspecting the etched lines more carefully. “Maybe that’s not a bad idea. It seems like you’re falling into uncertain territory here.”

  “Uncertain territory seems to be a specialty of mine, particularly lately.” Paige didn’t dare look at Jake, knowing he was likely to catch the double meaning.

  “Only uncertain if you want it that way,” Jake said, running his fingers through her hair.

  “Well,” Paige said, standing up and shifting to a serious tone. “One thing is certain. I’d like to know why a warning was etched into The Morning Star.”

  “And you plan to find out, I suppose. Even if I try to talk you out of it.” Jake said, sighing.

  Again, Paige grasped Jake’s shirt and pulled him close for a kiss, then moved her lips close to his ear just long enough to whisper, “Absolutely.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Rose greeted Paige and Jake as they entered the dining area in search of coffee. “You got a phone call while you were out.” She handed Paige a note and retreated to the kitchen. The smell of cookies baking hovered in the air.

  “Ferguson,” Paige said, handing the paper to Jake. “I wonder what he wants. And why he didn’t call my cell phone.” She reached into her pocket, pulled her phone out, and sighed. “Of course, I turned it off when we went to lunch so I wouldn’t disturb other customers.” She rolled her eyes and pushed the power button on.

  “And you forgot to turn it back on,” Jake said.

  “Exactly.”

  “Because you were distracted at the museum,” Jake added.

  “Yes, that’s true.”

  “Especially in the back yard.”

  Paige crinkled her nose and pulled the phone message back.

  “Oh, are there any new exhibits in the back yard?” Stephen asked from a corner chair, where he sat reading a railroad magazine. “I don’t want to miss anything while I’m here.”

  Paige hadn’t noticed anyone else in the room, and she was glad she’d only used the name “Ferguson” without adding “Detective” in front of it. She didn’t feel like explaining their visit to the Denver Mint, and she’d begun feeling the less said, the better. Too many unresolved questions were floating around.

  “Nothing new,” Paige said. “Though Sam is having a lot of fun with the birdbath Henry built her.”

  “She loves that yard,” Stephen said. “She’s out there every time we come to visit. I think Tommy’s a little sweet on her.”

  “Well, who can resist a pretty girl in a train yard, right?” Jake winked at Paige.

  Paige left Jake to chat with Stephen while she took her coffee and the phone message outside. Settling into the gazebo for privacy, she listened to voicemail from the detective and then returned the call.

  “Detective Ferguson here.” The officer’s voice was even and professional.

  “Hello, Detective. Paige MacKenzie, returning your call.” She doubted her voice sounded as calm as his. She was too eager to learn if Ferguson had more information about the coin.

  “I just wanted to touch base with you about your visit the other day, to thank you for bringing in the coin and for letting us hold it temporarily.”

  “Of course,” Paige said. “I’m thrilled we could help. That is, I don’t know if we did help, but if the coin leads you to solving an old case, I’m glad. Did you find out anything new?” Paige knew she was pushing her luck. What the detectives did with the coin really wasn’t her business. But she wasn’t good at keeping her curiosity curbed.

  “Nothing new,” Detective Ferguson answered. “Except our lab says the coin is genuine, so it could be from the missing batch. Any chance you’ve found others like it since you got back to Hutchins Creek?”

  “No,” Paige said. “The little girl who found that one doesn’t have any others.”

  “Well, I just wanted to check. With your journalism background, you seem like the type of person who’d scout around for information. If you find any other coins, could you give me a call? It could move our investigation forward.”

  Paige agreed, thanked him for the call, and promised to contact him if she found additional coins.

  “That was a short call,” Jake said, joining her as she was putting her phone away. “What did he want?”

  Paige took a sip of coffee and pondered the answer. “Just to check in, apparently. He wondered if we’d found any other coins. I told him no.”

  “Mighty perceptive of him to know you’d be looking,” Jake laughed. “You are looking, you know.”

  “Of course I’m looking,” Paige laughed. “Who wouldn’t be looking for a hidden cache of coins? You know I’m not the type to let a mystery pass by.”

  “No, you certainly aren’t.”

  “But finding the coins doesn’t interest me as much as finding out if they’re here, why they’re here, and how they got here.” Paige took another sip of coffee and settled back in the chair. “I still think Chancy was hanging around here the other night. I’m sure it was his car. And he was arguing with someone. You heard that yourself.”

  “I heard angry voices, but can’t say it was Chancy,” Jake pointed out.

  “I’m sure it was,” Paige insisted. “But I don’t know who would be arguing with him. That’s what’s driving me crazy. Was it Henry? Jesse? Stephen? Someone else?”

  “So, what’s your overall theory?” Jake sat back to listen. Paige felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to kiss him, so she did.

  “Nice,” Jake said, smiling. “What was that for?”

  “For listening to me. For not making fun of my curiosity. For not always telling me to stay out of trouble.”

  “Just most of the time,” Jake laughed.

  “It’s OK, I know I deserve it. You’ve gotten me out of tough spots a few times,” Paige admitted. “But back to your question about my theory. I don’t think Sam’s coin is the only one around here. I think the other coins are hidden somewhere in Hutchins Creek, and Chancy is looking for them. I also think he’s not the only one looking. He’s either working with a partner, or someone is searching independently, and he’s trying to stop them.”

  “Let’s say all that is true. How did the coins get here?”

  Paige lifted her coffee to her mouth, but lowered it without taking a sip. “We know that Chancy’s father, Frank, was a guard at the Denver Mint when the coins went missing. Maybe Frank hid them here, but never told Chancy where.”

  Jake nodded. “OK, that’s one possibility.”

  “Or someone else hid them here, and Chancy heard about it. You know how urban legends get passed around. Someone gets an inkling that there’s a secret hoard of something somewhere, and people come out of the woodwork looking for it.”

  “For example, a cache of coins?”

  “Exactly,” Paige said.

  Jake frowned. “Well, if someone hid them, and someone is looking for them, and someone is trying to keep them from being found…that spells danger to me. It may be time to back off this, Paige. Let the detectives from the Mint Police do their job.”

  “The coins would have been hidden a long time ago,” Paige continued, ignoring Jake’s words of caution. “Though…not necessarily. They may have been stashed in one location and then moved later.”

  “Which means they might not be here at all, even if they once were,” Jake said. “Chancy might be on a wild goose chase.”

  “As well as anyone else looking for the coins,” Paige added.

  “That would include you,” Jake said, smiling.

  “But then what about the coin Sam found?” Paige paused, and then answered her own question. “Because they were here at some point, in the museum yard.”

  “Which was actually the train depot at the time the coins went missing.�
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  “But the coins might not have been here back when the museum was the original depot,” Paige added. “They could have been moved here later, or even recently. Or … someone brought them through this area at one time and dropped one by accident. That would mean there aren’t any coins here at all. It could be that simple.”

  “Nothing is ever that simple around you, Paige.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Paige stood just outside the railroad museum’s back gate. A strong breeze had kicked up in the morning and now, early afternoon, it hadn’t yet died down. Grateful she’d chosen jeans and a long-sleeved green sweatshirt instead of something lighter, she tightened the elastic band that held her hair back, securing it against the wind.

  The yard looked lonely without Sam playing in her usual spots. But she wasn’t surprised to find the back area empty. A sign on the front door of the museum had read, “Will return at 1:30.” Paige assumed Jesse and Sam had taken a lunch break. Probably Lily had prepared something for them at the house, or they might have splurged for a meal at the Rails Café. Her bet was on lunch at the house, considering that Jesse was struggling to fund The Morning Star’s restoration. She glanced toward the house, but knew they’d be eating indoors since the wind was too strong for lunch on the porch.

  Opening the gate, she stepped inside and closed it behind her. The latch clattered as the gate fought against the wind. It’s a good thing all the exhibits are heavy, Paige thought as she looked around the yard. Powerful as the wind was, it was no match for old train cars or bolted down accessories. Only the birdbath swayed.

  Walking through the yard, Paige bypassed The Morning Star and moved on to look at other cars she hadn’t yet inspected much. Several cars had been moved since the day before, though The Morning Star remained in its same, prominent place. It received the most attention, both because of the restoration project and because it rested near the back door. It sat on the branch of tracks connected to the main line, not far from a switch engine. Paige remembered Jesse explaining they used the engine to rearrange the exhibits sometimes.

  The museum was fortunate to have the old train depot as a home. Bringing cars in to display had not been difficult, in view of the maze of tracks already in place. Although one line led off the property and connected to the main line from the current train station, different branches of tracks fanned out across the yard, each holding a different type of car – freight, flat, coal and—undoubtedly a favorite to visitors—a bright red cupola-style caboose.

  As fond of a caboose as anyone, Paige started there. A sign detailed the history of the much-loved rear car on freight trains and explained its usage. Until the 1980s, the law required trains in the United States and Canada to have cabooses with a full crew. Crew members rode the caboose in order to easily handle switches, safeguard the end of the train and inspect for problems during stops. Depending on the length of a trip, the caboose might hold functional living quarters, cooking facilities and a cast iron stove. As time went on, technology advanced to the point that a caboose was no longer required.

  Noting the absence of a rope chain, Paige climbed the stairs and looked around inside. While she hunted for potential hiding places for coins, she felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of technology replacing the caboose. Hadn’t she stood by railroad tracks when she was a child waiting to see the caboose at the end of a passing train? A wave of nostalgia washed over her.

  She tapped on walls, looked in drawers for false bottoms, jiggled the stairs below the cupola seating area, and inspected floorboards, but found nothing intriguing. Discouraged, she stood up and sighed. It was pointless. If coins had been hidden in as simple a place as behind a board, surely someone would have found them long ago.

  Moving on, she inspected the other cars in the yard. Each had served a specific purpose: carrying silver and gold ore, transporting coal, or bringing supplies to miners in the area. The importance of the railway system to modern day commerce was not only evident, but also remarkable.

  Circling back to The Morning Star, she reflected on its appeal to visitors. The shiny model in the museum certainly added to its interest, but she suspected another draw. As the only passenger car on the lot, it represented the adventure of travel, as if the seats inside were calling “all aboard,” to those outside.

  Paige approached the car and lightly touched the side, feeling the curls of peeling paint. Recalling Jesse’s comments about money going missing, she wondered why anyone would not want the car restored. Jerome had wanted it left as is, but he was gone, and Jesse had made it clear that the museum’s goal was to return it to its original state. Rose seemed to support all the museum’s projects. So did Henry. It didn’t make sense. It seemed more likely that the missing money was simply that: missing money, unrelated to the restoration efforts.

  Paige heard a screen door slam in the distance, and she looked up and waved at Jesse and Sam as they walked from the house to the yard. She joined them as they entered and reopened the museum.

  “I had a peanut butter sandwich for lunch,” Sam announced. Her wide smile indicated this to be a favorite food.

  “Sounds delicious,” Paige said. “Did your dad have the same thing?”

  Sam shook her head. “He doesn’t like peanut butter. Lily fixed him tuna with pickles. He likes pickles.” She hopped back and forth from one foot to the other, a two-footed pogo stick. “And we both had potato chips. I always share my chips,” she added, her expression serious.

  Paige smiled. “I believe in sharing, too, Sam. Good for you.”

  “Yep,” Sam chirped, proudly skipping off to explore the back yard again. Henry walked through the front door just as Sam skipped out the back. He sported his trademark tan fisherman’s hat and bolo tie, this time with overalls and a blue flannel shirt with frayed cuffs and a tear in one sleeve.

  “Saw this on your porch,” Henry said as he placed a small package on the counter.

  Jesse glanced at the address label and nodded. “Finally. About time that order of train whistles arrived.” He opened the box and filled a counter top display, pulling it slightly back from the edge. Paige could imagine the potential commotion of having the whistles in the reach of young children

  “So what are you up to today, Henry?”

  “Nothin’ much,” Henry said. “Just working on Lulu. She could use some new spark plugs. I aim to pick some up and put them in tomorrow.”

  “Why not have the guys do it for you down at the garage? Save yourself the trouble.” Jesse glanced at Paige and smiled, obviously knowing Henry would veto his suggestion.

  “Rather do it myself,” Henry huffed. “In my day, we did things ourselves.”

  “OK, Henry,” Jesse laughed, “You do it your way.” Turning toward Paige, he placed a flat hand to one side of his mouth and whispered, “Stubborn.”

  “I heard that,” Henry quipped.

  “Of course,” Jesse laughed. “I meant for you to hear it. You’d be smart to embrace modern times now and then.”

  “Don’t bet your money on that, Jesse. I ain’t fixin’ to do it anytime soon.” With that, Henry lifted one hand in a hint of a wave, and left.

  Paige returned the wave as the front door closed behind Henry, and then turned back to Jesse, who had moved a batch of papers to the front counter to sort.

  “I’ve got to get these invoices in order.” Jesse picked one out from the middle of the stack and put it on top. “Try to get a few of them paid this week. We’ve had some shortages in the register lately. I still don’t understand it. It’s not much, but it adds up.”

  Paige simply nodded. Jesse had no reason to know she was already aware of the missing money since she overheard this information when she was standing outside the window. “That’s a problem many businesses face. Do you have any employees you don’t know well? Anyone you hired recently, perhaps?”

  “Not a one. I run this place on my own. Every now and then Rose fills in to give me a break. But she can only cover for m
e when the inn has no guests. Fortunately, she gets business regularly. Of course, if visitors want to stay overnight in Hutchins Creek, her inn is their only choice.”

  Both Jesse and Paige glanced toward the front window as Lulu started up and backfired.

  “Henry uses quite a few southern expressions,” Paige said. “Is he from around here originally?”

  Jesse shook his head, not looking up. “No, but he’s lived here a long time, since I was in my teens. That was more years ago than I want to think about.”

  “That explains the lack of southern accent,” Paige said. “But was he originally from the South?”

  “Not quite sure,” Jesse said. “Seems he said something once about being from the Midwest, but I could be wrong. He’s lived here so long he’s a local as far as residents are concerned. He’s just part of Hutchins Creek, always around and helping out. He’s been especially helpful at the museum and to Rose, too. It’s nice having someone who’s willing to greet guests at the station and escort them to the inn.”

  “Yes, I certainly appreciated that when I arrived.”

  “Exactly,” Jesse said. “Makes a visitor feel welcome.”

  “I’d say Sam makes a decent one-girl welcoming committee, too,” Paige added. “She offers a friendly introduction to the back yard, cheerful and smiling all the time. Her behavior is contagious, makes visitors feel welcome to explore.”

  “She’s a great kid,” Jesse agreed. “Certainly fills my life with sunshine, gets my mind off these bills. She’s always willing to help if I ask her to.”

  “Especially in that miniature train area,” Paige said.

  “Oh, yes. That’s her area for sure. Sometimes I have to ask her to not be quite so territorial when guests come around. I’ve heard her ask people for a password to get into the yard. Most visitors think it’s cute, but a few who take things too seriously get huffy.”