February Fever (14 page)

Thirty-One

Turns out Doghn had
very specific ideas on how to conduct the investigation. He thought we should interview the most likely suspects. That meant the people who boarded at Penn Station with the Ramoses, passengers in the same car, and the staff, since they had the most access to the Ramos's food and cabin. The more he unfurled his plan, the more excited he became, twirling the ends of his mustache like helicopter blades, his eyes flashing. I wondered (and not for the first time since Chief Harris had suggested it) if all of this was a publicity stunt for Doghn. He'd need to violate whatever privacy agreement he and AmeriTrain decided on, but I bet that'd hurt them more than him in the long run.

All told, though, his plan made sense.

Except for one thing.

“I don't want to be part of the interviews,” I said.

All three men seemed startled. The conductor asked me why.

“One of us should be searching all the train's nooks and crannies, in case Emilio and Aimee are still on here, hiding somewhere.” That was, surprisingly, the truth. I wanted to find Aimee more than I wanted to find out who killed her mother. One was a scared little girl; the other was past helping.

Doghn's eyes narrowed. He seemed mad he hadn't thought of that himself. “What if we hear something during questioning that could help to locate the Ramos survivors?”

Good point. “I'll have one of my trained assistants sitting in on the interviews. They'll be able to decide what I need to know and serve as a line of communication between me and the three of you.” I'd deliberately kept the sentence gender-neutral, as I had yet to decide whether Jed or Mrs. Berns would do less harm.

Interestingly, both Terry and Doghn appeared to be scrambling for reasons to deny me free rein on the train. In the end, they couldn't come up with any. James Christmas turned over a copy of the passenger logs, including boarding dates and locations. He handed me two universal keys, one to open every door and the other to open every storage unit on the train. He also handed me a set of walkie-talkies. Who got the better end of that deal?

I agreed to send my “assistant” to the office, where the interviews would be conducted, within the hour. Christmas went into the hallway to instruct his staff on collecting names and setting up interviews for the chosen passengers. He assigned Reed to Terry and Doghn, to be in charge of locating and bringing back people to be interviewed. Reed himself was their first subject.

I hurried past the lingering crowds toward Jed and Mrs. Berns. Happily, the conductor's bribe had mellowed most of the people, and I made my way to Coach Car 8 with limited interference. I found Jed asleep in his chair, smelling of marijuana, his mouth open, drool leaking out of the corner, clutching his teddy bear. I'd seen Mr. Cuddles at his place back in Battle Lake, but figured it
was a bit of childhood memorabilia, not an active companion. This was not how I wanted to be represented on my train investigation.

I hurried on to Sleeper Car 11 but found our cabin empty. A note said Mrs. Berns was back at the Love Car. Retracing my steps to Car 6, I descended to the lower level, which is where I found the beauty parlor still set up, though it was almost ten at night. Mrs. Berns was in the chair, her expression gleeful, the left half of her hair significantly shorter—and less even—than the right.

“Mrs. Berns!”

“Horrible, right? I can't tell you how fast my heart is beating. I feel alive!”

Shit. Assistant candidate number two was not looking promising either.

“You sure you don't want to sit in the chair? There's nothing like it.”

I turned to walk back up the stairs. Drooling stoner wins by a hair—literally.

“Mira! Where're you going? Don't you want to stick around for the late-night scavenger hunt? It was supposed to be held tomorrow, on Valentine's Day, but they moved it up to tonight to lighten things up around here.”

On second thought, maybe Mrs. Berns could help. I made my way back to her and handed her one of the walkie-talkies. “The conductor has me, Doghn, and Terry trying to find out”—I lowered my voice so as not to cause alarm in case there was anyone left who
didn't
know there'd been a murder on the train—“what happened in the adjoining cabin. I'm going to give you this. Let me know if you see anything while you're on the scavenger hunt.”

It was a risk giving her the walkie-talkie, and not just because Jed wouldn't be able to contact me right away if he heard something valuable during the interviews. More worrisome was Mrs. Berns's
tendency to treat walkie-talkies like traveling karaoke mics. I was willing to take the risk, though, because if she spotted Aimee while she was on whatever cockamamie nighttime scavenger hunt the train had planned, I wanted to know ASAP. Nothing Jed learned sitting in on the interviews would be that time-sensitive.

Mrs. Berns was only too happy to accept the communication device. We calibrated our frequency knobs, and I left her queuing up for the scavenger hunt. By the time I returned to Jed, the only thing on him that had moved was his drool.

“Jed.” I shook his shoulder. “Wake up.”

“I don't want to go to school.”

“It's Mira, Jed. I need your help.”

One eye opened, and then the other. He wiped his chin. “Hey, dude. Was I sleeping?”

“And then some. Sorry to wake you. Can you help me?”

“For sure.” He sat his chair up and rubbed his face. He glanced to his right. “This is my girlfriend, Eliza. I'll have you meet her when she wakes up, 'kay? She's beaucoup awesome. Whaddya need help with?”

The guy even woke up kind. I filled him in on the situation in a few short sentences.

“But I'm not a detective.”

“Don't worry,” I said. I pointed at his
Smot Poker
t-shirt. “Did you pack a button-down shirt?”

He nodded.

“Grab it, and put it on over your t-shirt. Then just keep your mouth closed and ears open during the interviews. You're listening for anything that will help me find Aimee or figure out who killed her mom. Watch for suspicious behavior, but especially watch Terry and Doghn. If they seem particularly interested in someone, you should be, too.”

“Terry? That guy we had dinner with the first night? He makes me feel weird.”

It was unusual for Jed not to like a person, but Terry had instantly made me think
cop
, and he'd probably done the same for Jed. In the animal kingdom, cops are the lions and pot-smokers are the easily distracted gazelles. “It'll be fine. Please? We need to help this little girl.”

“Oh for sure.” He stood, reached for his duffel, and pulled out a wrinkled but logo-free Oxford. “We got to find that poor little girl. You can trust me.”

I was sure of it. I gave him directions to the conductor's office. I was deciding where to start my own search when Mrs. Berns pushed past me. She was with Chad and two other people I didn't recognize.

“Mrs. Berns!”

She didn't answer me, so I scrambled to the front of her group and grabbed her arm. “Hey, why're you ignoring me?”

She stopped, rolled her eyes, and handed me a slip of paper. At the top, it said,
Scavenger Hunt Directions.
They were simple:

1. 1.
   You will be assigned a group of four. Your group will elect a leader and come up with a name.
   
2. 2.
   Your group cannot talk to one another except in the diaphragms between cars. Keep your voices down even in these spaces. If you are caught speaking outside of the foyers, your entire group will be disqualified.
   
3. 3.
   Each group will locate six objects. Your group has been assigned to collect these six: the front page of a South Dakota newspaper, a photo of your entire team inside the Car 14 lower-level bathroom, a Granny Smith apple, an empty water bottle, a pen with the AmeriTrain logo on it, and a tiara with a red heart in the center of it.
   
4. 4.
   None of the objects will be hidden on fellow passengers or otherwise in locations where you would have to disturb people or enter locked spaces to retrieve them.
   
5. 5.
   The first team to return with all six objects will win a free dinner or free makeover session for each person in the group, your choice.
   
6. 6.
   In the case of a tie, the staff in charge of the scavenger hunt will make the ruling call.
   
7. 7.
   Have fun!
   

I pointed at the foyer. Mrs. Berns followed me. I gestured for the rest of her group to wait on the other side of the door.

“Can I join your team?”

“Nope. You're dead weight.”

“What do you mean? You're the one who talked me into becoming a private eye.”

“That's completely different. You're looking for a girl. That'll distract you from finding the objects. I want to win this thing!”

I studied her crazy eyebrow and lopsided hair. I suspected she was addicted to the adrenaline rush of the train's beauty makeovers. There was no helping her. “Okay, I won't be part of your team. But I might be tagging along.”

“It's a free train.”

She signaled to her group. They joined us in the shifting accordion. “The plan hasn't changed. We get the bathroom photo first. Chad, you've got your camera ready?”

He held it up. Looked like Mrs. Berns had been elected leader of her group.

“Excellent. Then we split up afterward and reconvene in the viewing car diaphragm every ten minutes or after we've found our assigned object, whichever comes first. Goooo, Loungin' Scroungers!”

Not a great team name, but I was otherwise impressed with Mrs. Berns's leadership skills. I decided to follow them to the restroom because I was heading that way anyhow, having decided to start at the back of the train and work my way forward. I still didn't know what I was looking for, but I could always follow Doghn's advice about expecting to find a clue and keeping my eyes open. Plus, Mrs. Berns had a walkie-talkie and Jed was sitting in on interviews at this very moment, so I didn't have to do all this alone.

The Loungin' Scroungers were doing a good job keeping quiet, though I suspected nobody else cared. The train certainly didn't have staff to spare to babysit them, though whoever had thought of the scavenger hunt had been smart to build in quietness as one of the requirements. It meant non-participants would not be disturbed.

We made our way to the bladder between Coach Cars 8 and 9, where the Scroungers agreed they'd take the photo in the first bathroom to the left on the bottom floor of Car 14. They then zipped their lips, lowered their heads, and made their way to the rear of the train. I followed them, eyes peeled, alert for any sign of Aimee or her dad. I still thought they might be on board, despite Doghn's suggestion otherwise.

For the most part the passengers seemed settled in for the night, and the majority of them had their shades closed, as if they didn't want to be reminded of the shrieking snow pelting the windows, trap
ping us in place. When we reached Car 14, the last sleeper car on the train, I was slightly amused to discover that the first bathroom to the left was a single stall rather than handicapped accessible. The Loungin' Scroungers had to squeeze into there as if it were a clown car or a phone booth, only gross.

I pretended to have trouble focusing Chad's camera, then I acted as if I wanted to get the shot just right. It was great watching them to try to move in the small space. I was giggling up until I caught Mrs. Berns's glare.

“Fine. Say cheese!”

I pressed the digital camera's button. There was a click, and the hallway and bathroom were illuminated. In the glare of the flash, I saw it:

Help
, written on the side of the bathroom wall.

It could have been there for years or minutes. It looked like it had been scribbled with red lipstick. The flash disappeared. I blinked. The Scroungers began filing out. And, in the edge of my vision and the dimness of the lighting, back toward more luggage racks, I spotted her.

“Noel!”

Thirty-Two

I dropped the camera
and ran to the rear of the car. There was nobody there, just the last cabin, and beyond that, a small space for luggage and shadows. I tapped against the wall above and behind the luggage and discovered it was actually a cupboard. It sounded hollow. Shoot.

Keys!

I dug in my pocket for the small key ring and opened the cupboard using my master storage key. To my disappointment, the cupboard was simply full of bathroom supplies. No little girl.

“
Noel
?” Mrs. Berns asked, coming up behind me. “This isn't Christmas.” She wiped her arms as if to rid herself of stray hairs. She carried a distinct urinal cake smell.

“I meant Aimee.” Honestly, though, I wasn't sure. The stress of the train ride was getting to me. “I thought I saw her.”

“Dead end back here,” Mrs. Berns said, kicking the wall. I didn't like the way she was looking at me, as if I were made out of crazy glass.

“Yeah. Dead end.” The adrenaline rush of thinking I'd spotted Aimee was ebbing, leaving me with a nauseated feeling. I wanted nothing more than to lie down. I needed to clear my head. “Hey, I think I'm going to head back to the cabin after I check in with Jed. I'm beat. If I don't get some rest, I'm gonna see ghosts.” More ghosts, in any case.

“All right. Call me on the walkie-talkie if you see the front page of a South Dakota newspaper, a green apple, a water bottle, a pen with the AmeriTrain logo on it, or a tiara, 'kay?”

I nodded, too tired to answer, and dragged my feet toward the stairs. It was twenty-five years of regret and hopelessness resurfacing, leaving me feeling five years old and powerless all over again. Chad stepped forward as if he wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth closed. For that, I was grateful.

At the top of the stairs, I took a sharp right, intending to head forward on the train. A quick check-in with Jed and the other PIs, and then I was putting myself on bed rest. I was more trouble than help in this state. I was just outside the door of Room 4 in Car 14 when I heard a conversation that chilled my bones.

“That's not the right bullet! You're never going to git 'er if you keep picking the wrong one.”