Dead Man's Tunnel (8 page)

L
IEUTENANT CAPRON CLIMBED
aboard the popcar as if it might shoot out from under her. Mixer begged to go along, but Hook sent him back.

“Oh, my,” she said, holding onto her hat as they gathered up speed. Her eyes glistened against the wind. She sat at the end of the seat, as if to distance herself from any sort of communion. She threw up walls, this one, and he couldn't help but wonder why.

He bent below the windshield and lit a cigarette. He leaned back.

The lieutenant took off her hat and stuffed it into her purse. Her hair whipped about her face as they moved into the countryside. She pulled a strand from her eye and grew quiet.

Hook said, “Riding the rails is like book collecting. Once it gets into your blood, there's no turning back.”

But the lieutenant didn't answer, turning instead to study the passing landscape.

Ahead, survey flags dotted the right-of-way. The crew paused to get a good look at the lieutenant as the popcar came by. Hook understood why. Though charm had long since given way to army procedure, one couldn't deny her beauty.

“What are they doing?” she asked.

“Upgrade,” he said, pointing to the flags. “Looks like they're going to reinforce the roadbed, but then it's been a while since I've been invited to a board meeting.”

The lieutenant only nodded. As they topped the run and plunged toward the canyon, she blanched and gripped the seat.

“Don't worry,” he said. “This is what every engineer sees just before hitting the tunnel. It's like jumping off a cliff blindfolded. Makes me nervous to this day.”

As Hook brought it into the siding, the lieutenant took a deep breath and combed her hair back with her fingers. She put on her hat and squared it onto her head. Climbing off the popcar, she placed her foot on the step to dust off her shoes. Hook searched for his cigarettes.

*   *   *

Corporal Thibodeaux came out of the tunnel with his rifle propped across his arm.

“Oh, Lieutenant,” he said. “I thought I heard a train coming. Near scared the life out of me.”

“Corporal,” she said. “Something has come up, and Mr. Runyon would like to ask you a few more questions.”

The corporal glanced over at Hook. “But I've told you everything I know.”

“You've been helpful, Corporal. But we need some clarification,” she said.

He shrugged. “What is it you want to know?”

“Are you acquainted with a young lady in Ash Fork by the name of Linda Sue?” Hook asked.

“Yes,” he said. “There ain't nothing wrong with that, is there?”

“How long have you known her?”

“About a year, I guess. We met at Blue's.”

“How would you describe your relationship?” Hook asked.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Please answer the question.”

He leaned his rifle against the popcar. “I guess you could say we were close.”

“Lovers?” Hook said.

The corporal's face flushed. “Now look, that's none of your business.”

Hook walked around the popcar. “Corporal, no one is interested in your love life except as it might relate to the sergeant's death. Now, please answer the question.”

“Yes,” he said. “Lovers.”

“Were you having trouble recently?” Hook asked. “Were you fighting about anything?”

“No more than usual, I guess,” he said. “Spats, you know. Linda Sue has a way.”

“What kind of way?” he asked.

“Of flirting with everybody, like a puppy wagging its tail. It doesn't make a difference to Linda Sue, you know, young or old, men or women. She flirts with everybody.”

“But sometimes people take it the wrong way?” Hook said.

“Yeah, sometimes,” he said.

“Doesn't that make you jealous?”

“Sure. I been mad but then you got to know Linda Sue.”

“What about Sergeant Erikson?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did Linda Sue flirt with him as well?”

“Sometimes. The sergeant didn't always know where his rank ended,” he said.

“And where would that be?” Hook asked.

“Look, I did my job out here, everything he told me to do. But he had no say about Linda Sue and me.”

“Is that what you told him?” he asked.

“Damn right,” he said.

“But he kept going over to Linda Sue's while you were on duty, didn't he?”

Corporal Thibodeaux's eyes hardened. He turned away and then turned back.

“So I told him, see. I told him, ‘Take off them goddamn stripes, and we'll see who's boss.'”

“And did he?” Hook said.

“He knew it to be a big mistake, I guess.”

“But that didn't end it, did it?” he asked.

“Sergeant Erikson wrote up a bad evaluation on me. It cost my promotion.”

Hook lit a cigarette and offered one to the corporal. He shook his head no.

“So you figured out a way to get him in the tunnel and to let the hotshot do the getting even for you,” Hook said.

The corporal clenched his jaw. “I know how it looks, and I can't say I'm all that sorry about the sergeant. But I didn't kill him. He managed that his own damn self.”

Lieutenant Capron looked at Hook and then back at Thibodeaux.

“I'm going to have to report this, Corporal. It could change things.”

“I'm under arrest?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “There are no grounds for that yet. You'll have to do the best you can out here until I can arrange for someone to come.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“And you best start telling the truth, Corporal,” she said. “Guarding this tunnel is paradise compared to a military prison.”

“I ain't lying, ma'am. That's for damn sure,” he said. “We had words now and then, but that's as far as it went.”

They watched Corporal Thibodeaux work his way to the guardhouse. At the top of the steps, he looked back for a moment before going inside.

“Well,” she said, adjusting her hat. “I can see that the corporal might have a motive here, though there doesn't seem to be any hard evidence.”

Hook walked to the trestle and looked down into the canyon.

“Linda Sue worked both sides of the shift,” he said. “Such a situation seldom ends peacefully. Add on a poor evaluation, and a man could get mad enough to kill.”

“Erikson signed out on patrol before Thibodeaux even got to the guardhouse,” she said. “And he checked the board like always. Suicide is unlikely. Homicide is a possibility, I suppose. Perhaps I should send out the military police. The security of this tunnel is an imperative.”

“An arrest could jeopardize the investigation,” he said. “In my opinion, we'll learn more without that just yet.”

“I thought that's what you wanted?”

“I said it was worth considering, and that's what I'm doing. I'm just a yard dog and a little slow on the uptake, but I prefer to sleep on things before charging someone with murder.”

“Well,” she said. “You sleep on it. In the meantime, I'll have to report this to Command and make arrangements for replacements.”

“It's a little late for worrying about that tunnel and the war, isn't it, Lieutenant? You've heard about the atomic bomb?”

“Army orders stand until they're rescinded.”

“Even if they don't make sense?”

“Even so,” she said.

Hook picked up a rock and threw it into the canyon. “I'd like to take a look down there before we go, if you don't mind.”

“And what do you expect to find down there?”

“Just a look,” he said.

She checked her watch. “I guess the army isn't the only one who does things for no apparent reason.”

“It won't take long,” he said.

“Then I'll go with you.”

“It's a pretty steep climb, Lieutenant.”

“Mr. Runyon, I've been through army training and was the top in my squadron. I'm not afraid of a climb.”

“Okay,” he said. “We best get started then.”

*   *   *

The path twisted through the basalt rock like a corkscrew. The air cooled as they descended into the canyon. At times the trail dropped away, the rock loose and precarious beneath them. The lieutenant, not dressed for such an excursion, struggled to maintain her balance in the rocks.

Soon the trestle rose above them, its beams frail against the blue sky.

The path narrowed, and rocks jutted up from the ground like the bows of sinking ships. Animal tracks and scat were everywhere along the trail, the canyon serving as both shelter from the heat and cover from predators.

As they neared the bottom, Hook waited for the lieutenant to pick her way through the jumble of rocks. When she reached him, she dabbed the perspiration from her forehead with her sleeve. A rip in her nylon ran the length of her shin.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I'm fine,” she said.

At the bottom of the trail, cigarette butts were scattered about, and the vegetation had been worn away.

“Looks like a resting spot for the patrol,” he said. “I'm going to work my way over to the trestle.”

“I'm coming, too,” she said.

“With those shoes?”

“The shoes are just fine,” she said.

Hook shrugged. “Have it your way, Lieutenant.”

The descent steepened, and brush grew thick from out of the rocks. At one point, a dry-gulch nearly four feet across cut between them and the trestle. Hook jumped over.

“I'll be back,” he said.

“Wait,” she said.

Slipping off her shoes, she threw them across and then jumped over herself. He caught her under the arm and pulled her in. He could feel the heat from her body and the tremble in her arm.

Once they got to the trestle, they came to a deep ravine that cut directly beneath it. Hook knelt down and looked over the edge. Pieces of boxcars and wheel carriages were scattered about at the bottom.

“Looks like she's claimed her share of equipment over the years,” he said.

“It wouldn't take much to bring the whole thing crashing down,” she said. “Rail transportation would be disrupted for a good long while. That's precisely why the military is involved out here.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I suppose they're right about that. Blow the bracings and she'd collapse like a row of dominoes.”

“Well, then,” she said. “Have you seen enough, Mr. Runyon? I need to get back.”

Just as Hook got up, a ray of sunshine broke over the rim of the canyon and into the rocks below.

“Wait,” he said. “I saw something.”

“Really, Mr. Runyon,” she said. “Is this necessary?”

“We've come this far,” he said. “Just as well take a look.”

Lowering himself over the edge of the ravine, he worked his toes into the cracks and eased his way to the bottom.

“Found it,” he called up.

The lieutenant leaned over the side. “What is it?”

Hook didn't answer but climbed his way back up. “Flashlight,” he said, handing it to her.

She turned it over, studying it. “It's army issue,” she said.

Hook nodded. “Whoever dropped it had to be on the trestle at the time.”

The lieutenant looked up at the trestle and then back at Hook.

“I didn't see Sergeant Erikson's flashlight, did you?”

“No,” he said. “Not until now.”

 

10

T
HEY'D GONE ONLY
a few miles on the popcar when Lieutenant Capron slipped on Hook's old jacket. Her hands disappeared into the sleeves, and the collar came up to her ears.

“It's freezing on this thing,” she said, shivering.

“I knew a rail inspector froze up on a popcar coming out of Chicago. When they found him, he was stiff as an icicle”

“That so?” she said.

“The popcar ran out of fuel in Kansas City, or I guess he would have just kept on going. They had to chisel him loose with a railroad pick.”

“Thanks for the coat,” she said.

The air smelled of the desert as they clattered along the tracks.

She pulled a crumpled pack of his cigarettes out of his coat pocket and then put them back in.

“How long have you been a railroad detective?” she asked.

“Well now,” he said, scratching his head. “Some would say I've never been a real one. Most of what I know I learned riding the rails. Eddie Preston says an agent who isn't a Baldwin Felts graduate might just as well be picking cotton.”

She turned and looked at him. “You were a hobo?”

“Of the highest order,” he said.

“But why? How?”

“I hit the skids when I lost my arm. I been about everywhere a train can go and a few places it can't.”

“How is it you became a railroad detective?” she asked.

“Time heals, they say. Fact is, it doesn't heal so much as it deadens, but the result is the same. Takes a lot of energy to keep a hatred going full tilt.

“In the end, I pulled it together long enough to land this job. It's as close to being a hobo as a man can get and still earn a paycheck. Turned out to be the right choice for me, but there was a time it could have gone either way.”

“And the caboose?”

“Men were hard to come by because of the war. The railroad agreed to the caboose, figuring I would give it up soon enough. Guess they were wrong about that one.”

“And the books? Isn't that a little peculiar for a hobo?”

“Or for a yard dog or for anybody in his right mind. Yeah, it's a lot peculiar, but it's not illegal. So there you have it.”

The moon popped onto the horizon and lifted into the black sky. The lights of Ash Fork shimmered in the distance, and the rails shined like ivory ahead of them.

“Is your name really Hook?” she asked.

“I sign my checks Walter,” he said. “And is your name really Lieutenant?”