Loco Motive (34 page)

“Shall we go inside or wait by the tracks?”

Judith didn't respond until they got out of the car. “I suppose we should go in.” She looked at her watch. “Do you realize what time it is?”

“Somewhere in the wee small hours, but don't tell me. I'll get all mixed up.” She stared beyond Judith. “Uh-oh. Here comes another car. I wonder if it's the one following us. It doesn't look like the cops.”

“Maybe they're meeting the train,” Judith said. “This is a really little town. What's close by?”

“I think Minot's next. It's got to be bigger than—” Renie stopped as a man's voice called out.

“Hold it, ladies,” a husky man said, heaving himself out of the other car's driver's seat. “Where the hell you been?”

Judith peered at the newcomer, but there was no outdoor lighting except for a faint glow from inside the station. “What?”

“Just get in,” the man said. “Blink's pissed off at you already.”

“Blink?” Renie echoed. “Who's that?”

The husky man huffed and puffed closer. “Cut the crap. You've already given us the runaround. Your customers already left. That costs us money.”

“You must be confused,” Judith said. “We're—”

“Old,” the man gasped. “Blink won't like this. He was prom
ised two hot young hookers, not a pair who've taken too many turns around the bedpost.”

“Hey!” Renie cried. “You can take the bedpost and ram it up your—”

“Coz,” Judith broke in, “let's not…”

The other man had gotten out of the car. He was tall and gaunt, a fur coat hanging loosely from his narrow shoulders. He wore dark glasses and carried a white cane.

“What's this, Chunky?” he rasped. “I sense dissension.”

“We got duped, Blink,” Chunky replied. “Check it out for yourself.”

Blink tapped his way toward the cousins and reached out to touch Renie's hand.

“Feathers? What's wrong with feathers? Satin? That's good, too.”

Renie yanked her hand away. “Don't paw the merchandise.”

“Feisty,” Blink noted. “The voice is…well used? Do you work carnivals?”

“What the hell does that mean?” Renie demanded. “I've never been to a carnival except for the ones at Our Lady Star of the Sea Catholic Church.”

“Hmm,” Blink said in a musing tone. “An interesting clientele.” He moved on to Judith, touching the top of her head. “Tall. Leggy. Ample. Such qualities have their charms.” He turned to Chunky. “Which is Maddie and which is Tiff?”

“Who cares?” Chunky retorted. “They're Medicare—or close to it. You want to use 'em in a nursing home?”

“That does it!” Judith said, and stomped off toward the station entrance.

“Hey!” Chunky yelled. “Get back here!”

Renie made as if to follow her cousin, but stopped. “What's our cut?”

“Coz!” Judith shouted. “Here comes the train!”

Renie slipped out of her mules, picked them up, and ran toward the tracks just as the whistle blew.

Chunky was huffing and puffing behind her. Blink waved his cane. “Come back! We can make this work!”

A bespectacled older man came out of the station as the train slowed to a stop. “Hello,” he said in a squeaky voice. “Are you all getting on?”

“We are,” Judith said. “We got stranded near Williston.”

“Oh, that's a shame. I'm Waymore.” He pointed to his name tag and squinted through thick glasses. “You girls must be tired.”

“Yes,” Judith said, realizing that Waymore probably didn't see much better than Blink. “Is anybody getting on or off here?”

“A family of four,” he replied. “Do you see the sleepers?”

“The first one's right behind us,” Judith said, keeping an eye on Blink and Chunky, who seemed to be arguing.

“Is the conductor on the platform?” Waymore asked.

“Not yet,” Judith said as the door opened. Seeing Chunky approach them, she grabbed Renie's arm. “Let's go!”

Judith looked toward the door. “The stepstool's not out yet.”

“Go!” Renie yelled as Chunky reached out to grab her.

Judith moved to the open door. “Help!” she cried. “Help!” Renie was struggling with Chunky. Waymore was looking dismayed and saying, “Now, now, that's no way to treat a lady.” The stepstool suddenly appeared on the ground. A small figure hurtled out of the train, hopped from the stepstool, and ran toward the scuffling Renie and Chunky.

“Hi!” Emily grabbed Chunky's leg. “Wanna play ThmackDown?” Renie broke free. Judith wasted no time getting onto the train. Renie was right behind her. A surprised Courtney Mueller let out a little cry. “Oh, my!”

Mr. Peterson looked equally astonished, but kept his composure. “Go ahead, Mrs. Mueller. I'll carry the twins.” He picked up the two baby carriers and let Courtney go first.

Judith glanced back at the platform. Emily had grabbed Blink's cane and was running around in circles. “No ThmackDown, no thtick!” she cried in jubilation. “Ha ha!”

Jax was unloading luggage. “My God!” she exclaimed, seeing the cousins. “Where've you been?”

“To hell and back,” Judith said, slumping against the luggage rack.

“Tell me about it,” Jax said, “as soon as we start up again.” Renie was panting. “I…never…thought…I'd be…glad…to see…Emily.”

“All aboard!” Mr. Peterson said before getting back on the train.

The Empire Builder headed east. “We're still behind schedule,” the conductor said.

Judith shrugged. “Better late than never.”

“Better late than dead,” Renie murmured after regaining her breath. “I wonder, though—how much could we have charged at the nursing home?”

“We'd have had to charge them,” Judith said. “Come on, tiger. Let's go to bed. It's been a long day.”

The cousins trudged upstairs and all but fell into their bedroom. “What time is it?” Renie asked. “I took my watch off when I undressed.”

“Uh…” Judith moved her wrist under the night-light. “I'm not sure. Did I remember to set my watch ahead?”

“How would I know?”

“Does it matter?”

Renie had climbed up into the top berth. “No.”

Judith looked again at her watch. “I think mine's stopped.”

“Oh. Tough.”

Judith removed the watch. “To heck with it. Time's relative. ‘To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.' Right, coz?”

“Shut the hell up,” Renie muttered.

“A time to wake and a time to sleep,” Judith said under her breath—and dropped into dreamland with her clothes on.

J
udith and Joe strolled arm in arm along Boylston Street, admiring the fading autumn splendor of Boston Garden. “We're almost three weeks late for the best fall foliage,” Joe said, “but you've got to admit this is pretty nice.”

Judith agreed. “How lucky to have Bill's conference at the Four Seasons. The public garden, the Common, the statehouse—it's every bit as wonderful as Renie described it.”

“Feel like walking over to Beacon Street?” Joe asked. “There are some wonderful old homes in the neighborhood.”

“Sure,” Judith said, squeezing Joe's arm. “As long as we take it slow.”

“You feel rested now?”

“Oh, yes,” Judith replied. “With Renie's weird sense of time, I don't think I realized we wouldn't get into Boston until midnight. I think she left out the part about a detour to D.C. But I slept in until almost eleven. Breakfast was lunch.”

Joe paused at the corner of Charles Street. “We can go this way between the garden and the Common or straight ahead. Your call.”

Judith shrugged. “I don't know the difference.” Hearing a familiar voice, she turned around. “Here come Renie and Bill.”

Joe waved. “He must've gotten sprung from his lunch meeting. Thank God I've got a couple of hours before my three-thirty interview at Bullfinch Life & Casualty. Hey,” he said as Renie and Bill joined them, “want to walk the walk with us?”

Bill looked at Renie. “Are you wearing shoes?”

Renie stuck out a brown-suede-shod foot. “Yes. I told you, I wouldn't give up wearing shoes until we got home.”

“Good,” Bill said. “Where to?”

“Past the Common and then over to Beacon Street?” Joe suggested. “We can see the Frog Pond.”

“Look at that gold dome on the statehouse!” Renie exclaimed.

“But watch for cars. They don't favor pedestrians—and pedestrians don't favor cars. Lots of jaywalking and going against the lights.”

“We've noticed,” Joe said. “Say, we haven't had a chance to hear about your train trip. I assume you both got to relax.”

“Oh,” Judith said, avoiding any glance at Renie, “yes. So much interesting scenery. Good food, too. Pleasant traveling companions. It was great.”

“I was kind of envious,” Joe said. “Bill and I've both been on the go ever since we got here. This is really the first free time we've had. I haven't even seen the sports page since I got here.”

Bill nodded. “For all I know, the TV in our suite doesn't work. The last thing I want to do at the end of the day is hear more blah-blah.”

“Really,” Renie murmured.

“You probably haven't missed much,” Judith said.

“True,” Joe agreed. “Current events pale in a city like this. Look—there's where the Freedom Trail starts.” He pointed to a Visitor Information sign at edge of the Common.

“I hope we have time to do that. It hits the highspots all the way across the Charles River to the USS
Constitution
Museum and Old Ironsides.”

“That's a must,” Bill said.

“Can we take a cab?” Renie asked.

Joe chuckled; Bill looked askance.

“Where are all those old cemeteries?” Judith asked, changing the subject.

“Two or three of them are around here,” Joe said. He shot his wife a baleful glance.

“Good God, can't you stop thinking about dead people for a couple of weeks? It's a wonder you didn't find a corpse on the train.”

“Don't be silly,” Judith said. “Look—people are riding on horseback across the Common. Is that the Frog Pond? What street are we on now?”

Renie grimaced. “Tremont. We're right where Madge Navarre and I stayed when we came to Boston in 1962.”

“Why the fearsome face?” Bill asked. “You've always told me the two of you had a wonderful time.”

“We did.” Head down, Renie walked a little faster. “It was great.”

Judith's curiosity overcame her. “Come on, coz, fess up. Don't tell me you've been keeping a secret from me all these years.”

Renie stopped in her tracks. “I haven't. That is, I thought I told you—or Bill—or somebody.”

“What?” Judith asked.

Renie's shoulders slumped. “Madge and I were coming back to our hotel late one night. Our hotel was nice enough, but old and kind of…creepy. The next morning we found out that something terrible had happened a few doors away on Tremont Street.”

“What was it?” Judith coaxed.

“A murder,” Renie replied quietly. “The Boston Strangler had struck again.”

The foursome was silent for what seemed like a long time. Then Joe and Bill burst out laughing.

“Hey,” Bill said, “that was then and this is now. History won't repeat itself.”

Joe grinned at Bill. “And my wife was three thousand miles away.” He gave Judith a hug. “I assume you don't feel left out?”

“Oh, no,” Judith asserted. “Why would I?”

Joe shrugged. “Just kidding. Let's move on. How 'bout those cemeteries?”

“Right,” Bill said, taking Renie's hand. “Boppin'!”

T
he descriptions of some Empire Builder features, including the sleeper accommodations, have been altered for the sake of narrative. These details are minor, but train travel is still the best way to go.

MARY RICHARDSON DAHEIM
is a Seattle native with a degree in communications from the University of Washington. Realizing at an early age that getting published in books with real covers might elude her for years, she worked on daily newspapers and in public relations to help avoid her creditors. She lives in her hometown in a century-old house not unlike Hillside Manor, except for the body count. Daheim is also the author of the Alpine mystery series and the mother of three daughters.

 

www.authormarydaheim.com

 

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