Ripe for Murder Read online

  Barb scooted around me, keeping her eyes down. “Sorry. I have to go.”

  “He really is an odious man,” Antonia said after the door closed.

  We crossed the dining area and stepped through to the vestibule. Bill was standing there looking down the side of the train. He opened the door for us.

  “Somebody pulled the emergency cord. I need to check around and make sure everything’s okay. No reason to be alarmed.”

  “Um, well, we’ll see.” Antonia said as Bill moved to the front of the car.

  “Did any of you pull the cord?” As we each shook our head in denial, Bill took off his hat and wiped his forehead. “I can’t understand it. None of the passengers up front admit doing it either. What in the blazes is going on?”

  “I’m beginning to wonder that myself,” Antonia said. “Well, let’s take our seats.”

  Big Dave stood up from his seat in front and looked down the aisle. “Where’s Tara?” He looked at Vance.

  Vance shrugged and turned to the window.

  Jim handed Kim her sweater and looked around. “I just saw her a couple of minutes ago. She was standing by the back door.”

  “Wait a minute,” Antonia said. “I don’t see Chantal either.”

  “Oh, great.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “That’s just what we need. The two of them together somewhere.”

  “That’s strange.” Jim moved through the car. “The last I saw Chantal, she was near the back door also.”

  “This just keeps getting better and better.” I walked to the rear of the car, stopping at the storage closet. “Big Dave, can you check in there?”

  “Got it.” He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  I moved out onto the vestibule between our car and the caboose, with Connor close behind. I peered through the door window. Boxes stacked earlier along the walls behind netting were now scattered among toppled dining chairs, and the door leading out to the rear platform stood open.

  “Things are a mess in there, but I don’t see anyone. We need to go in to be sure.” I shoved against the door. “It won’t open.” I pressed my face against the glass and looked down. “There’s something against it.”

  “Here, let me try,” Connor said.

  I gave him room and he pushed against the door as I reached through the opening.

  “It’s a bunch of tablecloths. Let me move them.” I shoved the pile to one side and Connor stepped into the car.

  “We need to get these boxes out of the way,” I said.

  “Somebody’s purse is here.” Connor held up a Gucci bag.

  “That’s Tara’s,” I said. “She had it earlier. You don’t think she’s under this stuff, do you?”

  “I hope not, but I don’t know where else she’d be. Last time I saw her, she was sitting in the cabin. She isn’t there, and she didn’t go back past us. This is the only other choice.”

  I walked to the rear door leading to the caboose platform, moving boxes as I went. “I don’t like this door being open. Where can they be?”

  I had reached the door when I heard a moan from the floor. I lifted the chair nearest me. The first thing I saw was a red sleeve.

  “Help me. It’s Chantal.” She was on her back, with her head to one side. She moaned again and turned her head.

  I took one look and felt dizzy.

  “She’s bleeding.”

  I turned away as Connor came up beside me.

  “It looks like somebody hit her pretty good, but there isn’t much blood at all.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s enough.” The familiar sour taste filled my mouth as the world started to tip.

  Connor pushed me down. “Just sit there for a couple of minutes. Looks like your blood phobia hasn’t gotten any better.”

  “It’s only been a few months since, well, since it started.” A late-night discovery involving a body and a lot of blood was responsible for this reaction.

  “It’s only a little cut above her eye,” Connor said. “I’ve cleaned it off. You can look now.”

  I turned so I could see her.

  Her eyes fluttered open and locked on mine.

  “Can you move?”

  “I think so.” She cautiously straightened her limbs. “Nothing’s broken, but I’m not sure I can stand.” Chantal held her arm out to Connor. “I think you might need to help me.”

  “Put your arms around my neck.” Connor picked her up as if she were featherlight. She was pale, but a soft flush of color tinted her cheeks as Connor pressed her against his chest. “I’ll get her back to her seat, then come back.”

  My head was clearing. “I’m going to look around. This just doesn’t feel right. Chantal, why where you here?”

  “When she’s feeling better we can ask her. I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t move.”

  Chantal’s ponytail bobbed as she rested her head on Connor’s shoulder. He must have left her in the nearest seat because he stepped back into the cabin a moment later.

  “This is wrong.” I walked to the rear door as he came up behind me. “This shouldn’t be open.”

  “Maybe the train coming to such a fast stop swung it open.”

  “That’s just it. Everything on the train went flying forward.” I moved the door back and forth. “This opens to the outside. If anything, the braking would have slammed the door shut.”

  Connor stepped out onto the platform. “Well, these gates are all closed, and the safety chains are in place. At least we don’t have to worry about anyone having fallen off.”

  A reflection some distance behind the train caught my eye. I couldn’t look away even as the sour taste returned and I went numb. “No, we don’t have to worry about that.”

  “I just said that.” Connor looked closely at me. “Are you all right? You look terrible.”

  I tried to push air into my lungs as sweat dotted my upper lip. Tara was stretched across the tracks. I couldn’t see her face but I recognized the sweater. She didn’t move, and even from that distance it was easy to see why. Her body had rolled and now rested on one side, but her head lay at an odd angle. Necks weren’t supposed to do that, and the buzzing in my ears got louder. I pointed to her.

  “I’m fine. But that could be a problem.”

  Seven

  MY heart was banging around in my chest, and I knew Connor was saying something because his lips were moving.

  “I can’t hear you. What’s making all that noise?” Everything started to tilt and slow down.

  Connor caught me right before I hit the ground. We stayed like that until the roar in my ears stopped.

  “Are you going to pass out?”

  I shook my head.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Let me just stay here for a second. Did you see how she was? How she’s turned? She’s facing the wrong way.” My hands were clammy and, once again, the world tipped. I closed my eyes.

  “Just breathe and try not to think about it.”

  After a few deep gulps, I grabbed the railing and pulled myself upright, keeping my back toward Tara’s body. Connor stroked my hair and I concentrated on getting air into my lungs; breathe in, breathe out.

  When I’d calmed down, I stood and headed back into the caboose. “We need to tell somebody. The train can’t leave this spot now.”

  Bill entered the cabin and heard me as he picked his way through the caboose. “What a mess, but I don’t see why the train can’t leave.” He pulled at the visor of his cap. “Nothing here is broken or can’t be fixed.”

  “That isn’t exactly true.” I pointed back over my shoulder.

  Bill gazed out the door. His face went white, and he wiped at the sweat that dotted his upper lip.

  “Oh, this is bad, this is really bad.” He took off his cap and crushed it in his hands. “I need to call the police.
Don’t know what I’m going to tell the other passengers.” He swallowed. “Jeez, I’ve got her husband looking all over for her. How do I tell him?”

  Connor stepped forward. “I’ll go. He needs to find out before we tell anyone else in the car. I don’t want him to hear it from one of the other passengers.” He turned to close the door. “Don’t let anyone in here.”

  Bill nodded then turned to me. “We don’t actually have a procedure for this kind of thing.”

  I was calmer now and able to think. “For now, I’d just keep everyone in their cars. Whatever happened back here, no one from the front cars was involved. If they were, we’d have seen them pass through our car.”

  Bill nodded. “Makes sense. We can be fairly certain nobody from up front was back here. But it sounds like you think it wasn’t an accident. Tell the truth, I’m inclined to agree with you. I’d like to hear what you’re thinking.”

  I tapped at the rear door with my forefinger and it slowly moved. “We found this door open. As hard as the train stopped, it should have been slammed shut. Did someone go through the door after the train stopped? Also”—I pointed to the rear platform—“all the gates are closed and locked. If she fell through, wouldn’t one of them be open?”

  “These are safety gates,” Bill said, “something we take mighty seriously round here.” He stepped out onto the platform and rattled the gate nearest him. “No, these are all still securely locked. This wasn’t an accident. I need to call the police.”

  “There’s something I don’t understand, though,” I said. “Who pulled the brake cord? Wouldn’t a murderer want as much room as possible between us and the body? And when we first tried to get into the caboose, the door was blocked. Tablecloths fell against it when the train braked. Nobody went out that door after we stopped. Wait a minute,” I closed my eyes and swayed. “Nobody went in or out that door after the brakes were hit. I need to talk to Chantal.”

  * * *

  “WHAT do you mean, you can’t remember anything?” I asked. “Come on, Chantal, think.”

  She shifted in her seat and stared at the ceiling. “Don’t you think I’m trying? All I know for sure is that someone hit me over the head. I don’t remember anything after that.”

  “What made you go into the caboose to begin with?”

  “There was a note. It said ‘Meet me in the caboose.’”

  “What note? Who left it?”

  “I don’t know. I went to get some water. When I got back, there it was, folded on my chair.”

  Antonia raised her brow. “What on earth would possess you to follow through on something like that?”

  “I thought I knew who it was from.” Chantal glanced up, searched out and settled on Connor. “I thought it would be fine.”

  “Yes, I see,” Antonia said. “Well, the police should be here shortly.”

  “Where’s the note now?” I asked.

  “That’s what I’d like to know.” Chantal shook her head. “I swear I stuck it in my back pocket. I’ve looked everywhere. It’s gone.”

  A muffled sob filled the air. Big Dave sat in the corner seat earlier occupied by Tara. He appeared to have collapsed inward. His head rocked from side to side, and his broad shoulders shook with silent tears.

  Vance sat next to him, his hand on Big Dave’s shoulder. He murmured something to his father and turned away, reaching into his shirt pocket to remove a phone. He flipped through and texted with one hand.

  “Vance doesn’t look very upset,” I said. “Although he does seem nervous about something. Look how he’s tapping his foot.”

  He returned the phone to his pocket and drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair, stopping only to down the glass of wine that rested on the tray table before him.

  Across from him, Kim and Jim sat with their heads close together. Kim wiped her eyes every few moments as Jim brushed the hair off her face, giving her a small kiss on the brow.

  Connor pulled me to one side. “I saw the look Chantal gave me. She thinks the note telling her to go into the caboose was from me. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you I didn’t ask her to meet me anywhere.”

  I nodded. “It would be better if she could find it. The handwriting might tell us something, and without it . . .”

  Connor picked up the conversation. “Without it, there’s just Chantal’s word someone wanted to meet her. Without it, it looks like she followed Tara into the caboose all on her own. The crucial thing is to prove Tara’s death was an accident. That would lessen the impact of Chantal being there.”

  I rubbed my temples. “That’s going to be a problem then. The safety gate was closed and latched, which means someone had to lock it after Tara was, well, off the train.”

  “You mean pushed.”

  I nodded, thinking of the way Tara’s twisted body rested just a short distance away.

  “Also, remember when we entered the caboose?” I said. “The pile of tablecloths blocked the door. If someone else had been in there when the brakes were hit, those would have been moved when they left. Remember we had to push them out of the way to get in.”

  “Maybe someone from one of the other cars killed her, pulled the brake, and when the train stopped, actually got off the train and ran back to a different vestibule, say, in front of the dining car.”

  I shook my head. “I thought of that, but it only works if the person left the caboose when the train was stopped. You certainly can’t get back here from the outside while the train is going. No, they’d need to go through this car, and nobody from the front of the train has been back here. That means someone in this group killed her.”

  “There must be something we’re missing,” Connor said. “It couldn’t be Chantal. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

  “We both agree on that. She’s a pain, but nothing more.” I scanned the room. “The Chicago couple don’t seem to have any reason to want Tara dead. They said they’ve never been to California before. That leaves Tara’s husband and stepson and, for my money, I’m inclined to think it’s the stepson. It was pretty clear Vance didn’t like her, and Big Dave seems genuinely upset. For all Tara’s craziness, I got the impression he was infatuated with her at the very least.”

  Jim walked over to Barb, who stood silently in the corner.

  “Can I get some tea for my wife?”

  Barb nodded.

  I did a mental head slap. “Things just got more complicated. Barb and Seth come and go between this car and the dining and bar cars. They were in here earlier.”

  “So they had access, but we still need to answer why either one of them would want to kill Tara.”

  “We both saw how jealous Barb got when Tara was flirting with Seth in the bar. If she could have, she would have thrown Tara off the train right then. As far as Tara and Seth, there was a lot of sexual tension between them.”

  Connor held up his hand. “Okay, I’ll buy that, in a fit of jealousy, Barb could have pushed Tara. Love triangles have always been a great motive for murder, but Seth wouldn’t kill Tara just because he’s still attracted to her. That’s not a motive.”

  “Tara made him furious later in the same conversation. You couldn’t hear it from across the room, but he was enraged.”

  “Enough to kill her?”

  “It’s possible. Tara dismissed Seth when she saw that Barb was jealous. Said she could buy better toys now. The look Seth gave Tara was chilling.”

  “That must have stung his pride,” Connor said. “Guy like him, doesn’t have anything going for himself now, still grasping that illusion of being the one all the women want. I bet he didn’t much like being called a toy, and a second-rate one at that.”

  “It wasn’t just that one incident. Seth has this anger right below the surface. You can feel it when you’re around him. When he grabbed Barb’s wrist, you could tell it wasn’t the first time. She doesn�
��t ever quite look him in the eyes, and she shrinks away when he’s around. Her nails are bitten to the quick.”

  “And yet you said she defended Seth to Tara.”

  “I think she’s holding on to the past as much as Seth is,” I said, “still pretending that landing him back in high school was a good thing. In reality, she should get away from him, as far and as fast as she can.”

  “So there are several people who had possible reasons to fight with Tara.”

  I nodded. “Better reasons than Chantal had.”

  “Still, her being in the caboose doesn’t look good. We know her well enough to dismiss the idea she had anything to do with Tara’s death. I wouldn’t be so sure the police will be as quick to give her the benefit of the doubt.”

  A large man walked down the aisle toward us. In the heat of the day, he wore a three-piece dark wool suit. Standing well over six feet, he towered over the two uniformed officers who flanked him.

  “I think we’re about to find out,” I said.

  Eight

  AN hour later I had a good idea of exactly what Police Chief Lawrence Harding thought.

  “I understand you live near Chantal Martinelli. Has she ever been violent in the past?”

  “Absolutely not.” Crazy, sure, but violent? Never. “Mr. Harding, Chantal didn’t kill anyone. She just met Tara. Why would she kill her?”

  “Actually, my title is Police Chief Lawrence Harding, and I understand from the others on the train, and specifically from those in your car, that Miss Martinelli and the victim had a physical altercation shortly before the murder. I believe you were there.”

  “Yes. There was a bit of a disagreement.” He’d focused on Chantal much too early, and I didn’t like it. Alarm bells started going off in my head. “It wasn’t anything, really.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Sounds like a catfight between a couple of women who maybe had a bit too much to drink. Normally I wouldn’t put this much weight on an altercation like that.”