The Insane Train (17 page)

Hook broke the news to Helms and Baldwin shortly after Frenchy sided the bullgine within walking distance of the Winslow depot. Helms sat emotionless as Hook related the last few moments of his encounter with Robert Smith. Baldwin's face darkened, and he shook his head slowly back and forth.

“What happens now?” Helms asked.

“I've got to talk to Frenchy,” Hook said. “This business with Yager and Smith is going to take some time to clear up.”

“You do realize we are sitting here with twenty, make that nineteen, of the most dangerous men in the country?” Helms said.

“I do understand. Believe me. But these things have to be dealt with. We'd have the law down on us for sure if we let it ride until we reached the fort.”

Hook turned to Baldwin. “What do you think, Doctor?”

Baldwin looked up through his brows. A dullness had entered his eyes as if he had moved beyond reach.

“Doctor Baldwin is under some stress,” Helms said.

“Very well,” Hook said. “I'll talk to Frenchy and get back to you.”

The news of the deaths had quickly spread the length of the train. Hook found Frenchy checking the side rods on the engine. His overalls strap had twisted over his shoulder, and his cigar had long since wilted into a cold stub.

As Hook approached, Frenchy stood and flipped his cigar onto the tracks.

“Hell, Hook,” he said. “You ought match them eyes up, then you could look like a goddang raccoon.”

“Thanks for the sympathy,” Hook said. “What's the matter with this piece of junk now?”

“Side rod's slapping,” he said. “Bushing's probably wore out. I'm going to run her into the shop for a look-see.”

“Jesus, Frenchy, I've got problems back there.”

Frenchy stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down line.

“I'd say that's an understatement, but then that's why you make the big money, Hook.”

“You figure we're tied down for awhile then?”

“Depends,” he said. “Me and the fireman are overdue for a rest. We're going to have to get some sack time. I can't keep my goddang eyes open. We have an accident, there'd be hell to pay.”

“Meanwhile, what am I supposed to do with those inmates, Frenchy?”

“Why don't you just throw a few more off the caboose? That way we wouldn't have nothing to worry about.”

“Things are getting pretty stressful back there.”

“I ain't your supervisor, thank God for favors, but if I was, I'd say put them folks up in the La Posada Hotel right here at the depot. It's a damn nice place.”

Hook walked to the front of the engine, her boilers warm against him in the morning chill.

“I'm not sure Baldwin has the funds for a hotel, but I can't keep those people locked up in those outfit cars much longer.”

“Well, if I was asked, which I ain't been, I'd have to say this side rod is a danger, and I had to shut things down for reasons of safety to the passengers. That would pretty much make this stop the railroad's problem. I figure they'd have to pick up a good share of the tab.”

“Thanks, Frenchy. I guess you'd make a pretty good supervisor at that.”

“Hell,” he said, pulling a grease rag out of his pocket, wiping his hands. “I'll just put in for a pay raise.”

“I better go call the Winslow sheriff and get the paperwork under way. Maybe he will spare a few men overnight to relieve my security people. Things are wearing thin.”

Hook found pay phones in the lobby of the La Posada and called the sheriff, who agreed to pick up Yager's corpse and send someone out to search for Robert Smith. When Hook asked for a few men to help out the night watch, the sheriff said that the city didn't pay overtime. But he would give it some thought if the railroad could reimburse them the man hours.

Afterward, Hook called Eddie Preston. He lit a cigarette and cracked the door of the phone booth as he listened to Eddie rant. In the meantime, Doctor Helms came into the lobby and went into the end phone booth.

“The sheriff's agreed to give us a little relief here for the night, Eddie. My people are exhausted.”

“So let him,” Eddie said.

“Thing is, he wants the railroad to reimburse the city.”

“What? Without the railroad, his town wouldn't even exist,” Eddie said.

“Frenchy said the side rod's shot on the engine. This is the railroad's responsibility. I'll tell the sheriff you okayed it.”

“Look, Runyon,” he said. “I got an opening for security in the Chicago train station. All you'd have to do is run in drunks and keep the whores out of the waiting room.”

“Thanks for the confidence, Eddie,” Hook said.

“I've got a new man coming on line. He could make those runs, and he's got an education.”

“What he doesn't have is seniority, Eddie. I'll have the union up your ass if you try to bump me.”

“Lose any more of those inmates, I'm going to have to, Hook, one way or the other. And then there's this business with the disciplinary board.”

“What business?”

“They said someone would probably have to pay for the truck.”

“That truck was a pile of crap, Eddie.”

“You could lose your seniority over this, Hook. It isn't a goddang birthright, you know.”

“I'm having a little trouble hearing, Eddie. I'll have the sheriff send in a reimbursement order.”

When he stepped out, Helms was just coming out of the booth.

“Oh, Mr. Runyon,” she said.

“Well,” he said. “Looks like we'll be staying over here at the La Posada.”

“Another delay? You do realize that I can't keep these men medicated forever. Serious side effects could develop. In any case, we are hardly prepared to handle criminals in a hotel.”

“I've arranged for some help with the local sheriff's office.”

“Doctor Baldwin can scarcely afford hotel rooms for these inmates.”

“The engine's been canned with a bad side rod. Frenchy thinks the railroad will pick up the slack for hotel rooms.”

“One more glitch in a disastrous trip,” she said.

“We'll have to make the best of it. I'll arrange to have the security ward at the back of the hotel. We'll get food delivered. The others can eat in the restaurant.”

Helms lifted her chin to look through the bottoms of her glasses. “I guess we have no choice then, do we?”

“I'll tell Doctor Baldwin.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Let me tell him. I'm afraid Doctor Baldwin has become quite despondent.”

 

While Hook completed paperwork at the sheriff's office, the inmates were moved into the La Posada. Four off-duty officers were assigned to assist through the night, giving the others a chance to clean up and get some rest.

By the time Hook returned, most everyone had showered and fallen asleep in the luxury of their beds. Hook, too, preferring the privacy of his caboose, soon slept soundly for the first time in days.

When he awoke, the sun had set. He checked his face in the mirror. The swelling had receded, but a black smudge had formed on his cheek. He walked Mixer and then went to search out Andrea.

The La Posada, in grand Spanish hacienda style, invited guests by way of a veranda that led into the dining area. A majestic fireplace and stairwell were the focal points in the room, giving it a castlelike feel.

He found Andrea coming from the kitchen, where she had just completed arrangements to feed the women in the main dining area. She wore a simple pink dress, her hair pulled back with an ivory comb.

“You look wonderful,” he said.

Andrea fanned out her skirt and curtsied.

“Thanks. And the nap didn't hurt either. We're about ready to eat. Maybe you could join us?”

“Great,” he said.

“I've already ordered the women's dinner. Why don't you order for yourself while Seth and I bring them down?”

The women arrived looking clean and rested. Had he not known better, he would have thought them members of the local Sorosis Club.

Bertha hooked her arm through Seth's and smiled at Hook as she came down the stairs. Seth, freshly shaven, had slicked back his hair like a carnival barker. He shrugged and lifted his brows at Hook as Bertha guided him to the far end table.

Ruth and Esther took up places near the kitchen, while Anna and Lucy sat near the window, as far away from everyone as they could get.

“There,” Andrea said. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

The waiter, a young man in his early twenties, served up plates of mashed potatoes, green beans, and fried chicken.

Hook looked at Andrea over his glass. She sat erect and poised, her eyes the color of a spring storm cloud.

“Are you staying in the hotel?” she asked.

“Caboose,” he said. “Quiet, you know.”

“Yes,” she said.

“How are the accommodations?” he asked.

“The women are absolutely giddy. Esther took three showers.”

“Maybe you could get away a little while tonight?” Hook said. “There will be deputies to help through the night.”

Andrea paused to sip her water. He could see the burn scars still there on her hands. She smiled over at him.

“Would it be safe? I've heard you lead a dangerous life.”

“Well, there's Mixer,” he said. “He's a terrific guard dog when he's not napping.”

Hook pushed back his chair and took up his coffee. The waiter exited the kitchen wearing his white jacket, his arms stacked with dishes of apple pie à la mode. He set down Ruth's dish and turned to leave, when Lucy threw her doll on the floor and commenced pounding her head on the window.

The waiter froze. Ruth stood, opening her blouse.

“I have nice breasts,” she announced.

The waiter, fear on his face, looked over at Hook.

“Want to see them?” Ruth asked, pushing them forward for a more suitable viewing.

The waiter jumped back, his dishes crashing onto the tile floor.

Anna stood. “It's the hook man,” she screamed.

Lucy banged the window with her head, the glass thundering and trembling.

“Oh, no,” Andrea said.

Struggling to escape, the waiter slipped in the apple pie and ice cream and sprawled onto the floor.

“There aren't any bugs down there,” Esther said.

The chef stuck his head out the door, his hat bent at an angle.

“What bugs?” he asked. “We don't have bugs. We had it sprayed. Good God,” he said. “Who is that naked woman?”

Andrea pushed back her chair. “It was a very nice dinner, Chef. Thank you. I'll take them back to their rooms now.”

“I'll tell the manager about the bugs,” he said. “The son of a bitch said he had it sprayed.”

 

The sky filled with stars, and the moon slid high overhead by the time the knock came on the caboose door. Hook opened it to find Andrea gazing up at the celestial display.

“Come in,” he said.

“Hook,” she said. “Let's sit out here on the steps. The evening is spectacular, and I'm a bit wound up from dinner.”

“Sure,” he said. “I'll let Mixer take a run. He hasn't killed anything in several days now.”

They sat on the steps shoulder to shoulder.

“I'll be so glad when this is over,” she said. “When do you think we'll get there?”

“A couple of days, if we don't have more trouble,” he said.

“We're all exhausted, and I'm worried about Seth, too.”

Hook slipped his arm about her shoulders. “What about him?”

“His dreams,” she said. “They're awful for him sometimes, and then he worries about his wife, too.”

Hook lit a cigarette. “Seth worries about that scar of his. Thinks his wife won't be able to tolerate it.”

“That's ridiculous,” she said.

“Things like that can worry a man,” he said.

Andrea leaned in against him. “I'm worried about when we get there, Hook, a strange place and all. I don't know if we'll ever get things back to normal.”

Hook leaned back on the step, crossing his legs at the ankles.

“Helms thinks Baldwin is acting a little strange,” he said.

“Strange?”

“Despondent, you know, like he's thinking about something else all the time. I've noticed it myself. I think Helms doesn't trust his decisions.”

“He's one of the most stable men I know,” Andrea said. “Excluding you, of course.”

“I've been accused of many things,” he said. “Stability isn't one of them.

“Doctor Helms tells me that patients can adjust to their sedatives, that the doses sometimes have to be increased to maintain the effect. She thinks that's how Robert Smith managed to overpower Frankie.”

“A lot of it depends on how agitated they are.”

“Robert Smith was about as agitated as anyone I've come across in a while,” he said.

Andrea moved in close. She snuggled into his shoulder like a small bird. Her breath was warm against his neck, and his groin stirred. Her hand rested on his leg like a small, hot iron.

“I've missed you,” she said. “So many miles with nothing to do but think.”

He lifted her chin, kissing her, her mouth hungry and searching.

“Andrea,” he said, catching his breath. “We could go inside. I mean, if that's what you want.”

“I want,” she said, slipping her hands inside his shirt. He started to get up, but she took his arm, pulling him back. “But not inside,” she said. “Here.”

“Are you sure? Someone might see?”

“Yes,” she said. “Afraid?”

“A little.”

She leaned over, whispering in his ear. “Me, too.”

Her breath seared into his core, her legs ivory in the moonlight, and his head whirled at the prospects. She rose over him like a warm ocean wave, dropping her head, moaning, clutching the caboose grab iron. And when the head beam of a freight train swept out of the darkness, she neither paused nor hesitated as it bore toward them, its whistle screaming in a blast of heat and steam.