Strangers on a Train (2 page)

“No. But the cops caught the jewelry thief.” I quickly filled her in.

When I was finished, George let out a low whistle. “So it wasn't anyone
from the ship? That's weird.”

“I know, right? There's no way he got through security on his own.” I
glanced over at the exit station set up near the gangplank. Several crew members were
there, dressed in Superstar's crisp navy-and-silver uniforms, running ship IDs through a
scanner as passengers disembarked for the day's shore stop. Even though the area around
the exit was chaotic, with dozens of excited passengers shouting and laughing and eager
to start their day in Skagway, the ship's staff maintained perfect order, channeling
each person through the scanner station before ushering him or her down the gangplank.
Watching the well-organized procedure made it seem impossible that anyone could board
unscanned or undetected.

“So who helped him get aboard?” George wondered. “He must have an
accomplice, right? A crew member, or maybe another passenger?”

Instead of answering, I cleared my throat loudly. “Get any good shots?” I
asked Alan, who was coming toward us with Bess on his heels.

“Of course.” Alan winked. “It's easy to get good shots when you have such
a beautiful model.”

George smirked. She doesn't have much patience for gooey romantic talk.
Especially when it came from Alan. “Enough with the photo session,” she said. “Let's get
off this boat and have some fun.”

“Speaking of fun,” Bess said as we all wandered toward the exit station,
“what's on the agenda for today?”

“You girls weren't there when Scott came around at lunch yesterday, so I
signed us up for a few things,” Alan said. He glanced around. “Where is Scott, anyway?
He said I should check in with him about the exact schedule.”

“I don't see him.” I scanned the exit area, which was growing more crowded
by the second. Half a dozen raucous redheads—members of a large family reunion—had just
entered. I also spotted a few other familiar faces. But I didn't see the lean, tanned
form of Scott, the shore excursion specialist, anywhere.

A statuesque blond woman in a Superstar uniform saw me looking around and
stepped toward me. “May I help you, Ms. Drew?” she asked in a husky voice heavily shaded
with an eastern European accent.

“Oh, hi, Tatjana.” I smiled at her, though I couldn't help a flash of
unease. Tatjana worked for Becca, and she'd almost caught the two of us discussing the
case a couple of times. “Um, we were just looking for Scott so we could check about
today's trips.”

“He is already onshore,” Tatjana replied. “You should be able to find him
on the dock once you've disembarked.”

“Okay, thanks,” Bess said with a smile. “Come on, guys. We'd better get in
line.”

We headed across the lobby. “Look, it's the ABCs,” Alan said, nodding
toward three gray-haired women at the back of the line. Alice, Babs, and Coral were
experienced cruisers who were seated at our table at dinner.

“And Tobias,” George added with considerably less enthusiasm.

I couldn't help a slight grimace myself when I saw the eight-year-old boy.
He was pulling at his mother's hand as she and her husband chatted with the three older
women.

“Looks like Coral has forgiven him for scaring her half to death with that
pet tarantula of his,” Bess whispered with a smirk.

“I guess so.” I'm not scared of spiders, but I still shuddered a little as
I recalled the incident. Tobias had smuggled his tarantula onto the ship, and the hairy
eight-legged critter had ended up crawling over the pastries one day at lunch. “That's
only fair, though,” I added. “Vince and Lacey stole Hazel and put her on the buffet,
remember? Tobias didn't have anything to do with it.” I shrugged. “Well, unless you
count sneaking the spider onboard in the first place . . .”

I let my voice trail off, since we'd reached the group by now. The ABCs
and Tobias's parents greeted us cheerfully. Tobias himself ignored us. That was typical.
He'd made it clear from the start that he didn't want to be on the cruise, and his
attitude generally varied from sullen to downright obnoxious.

“Do you young people have some exciting shore activities planned for
today?” Babs inquired.

“I guess so.” George shot a look at Alan. “You'll have to ask our own
personal event planner.”

Alan grinned and swept into a goofy bow. “At your service.”

“Are you taking that scenic train trip through the mountains?” Tobias's
mother asked. “We're really looking forward to that, aren't we, Tobias?”

“I guess.” Tobias shrugged, looking less than ­enthusiastic. “Hey,
here comes Hiro. He probably wants me to go on some boring tour with him or
something.”

Sure enough, the youth activities coordinator, a young man in navy shorts
and a silver-piped polo shirt, was wandering toward us. He spotted Tobias and waved.

“Have fun onshore, Tobias!” he called. “I'll see you for movie night
tonight, right?”

“Whatever.” Tobias waved back, then turned to peer at the line in front of
us. “When are we getting off this stupid ship, anyway?”

“Patience, Tobias,” his mother said. “We have to wait our turn.”

Luckily, that didn't take long. A few minutes later we were all making our
way down the long gangplank together.

Bess shaded her eyes against the bright morning sun. “This place looks
pretty cool.”

“Oh, it's supposed to be wonderful,” Coral assured her. “Skagway was an
important site during the Klondike gold rush in the late 1800s. The main street is
supposed to look like a postcard straight out of that time. We can't wait to see
it!”

“Sounds like fun, eh, son?” Tobias's father clapped the boy on the back.
“Well, have a nice day, everyone. We'll see you back on—”

“Sir! Excuse me, sir!”

We all turned. A young man in a tidy navy-and-silver uniform was running
down the gangplank, apologizing profusely as he pushed past other passengers. He looked
familiar, and when he got closer, I realized he was one of the busboys from the main
dining room.

He skidded to a stop in front of Tobias's father. “I'm so glad I caught
you,” he said breathlessly, holding up a camera. “You left this in the café after
breakfast. I'm sure you'll want it with you today.”

Tobias's father's eyes widened. “I hadn't even noticed!” he exclaimed,
taking the camera. “Thank you so much, young man. You're right, I'm sure I'll want to
take lots of pictures today.” He fished a couple of bills out of his pocket. “Thank you
for tracking me down.”

“Thank you, sir.” The busboy blushed slightly, then pocketed the money. He
glanced around at the rest of us. “I hope you all enjoy your day in Skagway.”

As he turned toward the gangplank, another man rushed down. “Sanchez!
There you are,” he barked out, grabbing the busboy by the arm. “Come with me. Now.”

My friends were already moving down the dock, chatting with the ABCs. But
something about the second man's behavior made me curious. I took a step after him as he
dragged the busboy to a quiet spot behind a trash bin.

“What is it, boss?” the busboy asked, sounding confused and a little
scared.

No wonder. The second man's face was livid. It was obvious he was trying
to keep his temper under control, but he wasn't having much luck.

“I'll tell you what it is,” he exclaimed, jabbing a finger at the busboy's
chest. “You're fired, that's what!”

CHAPTER TWO

In the Line of Fire

“WHAT?” THE BUSBOY'S FACE WENT PALE.
“Why? What did I do, boss?”

“You know what you did. You just thought we'd never find out.” The boss glared at him.

I winced, feeling sorry for the busboy. He started to protest, looking confused and terrified, and his boss responded, though their voices were too low for me to hear what they were saying anymore. I glanced around for my friends, wondering if they'd noticed what was going on.

Instead I saw a heavyset man with a droopy mustache hurrying over. I didn't know his name, but I'd seen him a few times on the ship. I assumed he was another passenger, since he always wore a Hawaiian shirt and shorts rather than a navy-and-silver uniform. But he seemed to spend a lot of time hanging around with the staff.

Right now he was zeroing in on the busboy and his boss. “What's going on over here?” he demanded as he rushed up to them. “Is there a problem?”

The boss dropped his hold on the younger man's arm. “It's nothing to worry about, sir,” he said smoothly, though his brow was still creased in anger. “Please enjoy your day in Skagway.”

Mr. Hawaiian Shirt ignored him, peering at the busboy's anxious face. “You okay, son?” he said. “Because if there's some sort of trouble, you've got to speak up for yourself.”

The busboy's face went red. He glanced from his boss to the other man. “It's nothing,” he muttered.

“That's right,” his boss put in. “Thanks for your concern, sir. Now if you'll excuse us—”

I guess I was staring as all this went on. Because just then, the busboy turned and met my eye. He spun toward his boss.

“It's not right!” he said suddenly, his fists clutched at his sides. “I don't know anything about any illegal drugs! Whoever said they found them in my locker is lying.”

“Drugs?” Mr. Hawaiian Shirt barked out. “What's this all about?”

By now the raised voices were attracting attention, even on the busy Skagway dock. Some of the passengers who were disembarking nearby were looking over, and a moment later I saw the tall, broad-shouldered form of the
Arctic Star
's captain striding in our direction.

“What's going on over here?” Captain Peterson asked. Glancing from the red-faced busboy to Mr. Hawaiian Shirt, he frowned. “Never mind, don't tell me. Let's take this back to the ship. Now.” He grabbed the boss by the elbow and the busboy by the shoulder, steering both men toward the gangplank.

“Wait!” Mr. Hawaiian Shirt hurried after them. But he was cut off by a group of laughing redheaded children from the family reunion. By the time he dodged around them, the captain and the two employees had disappeared into the ship.

I caught up to him by the foot of the gangplank. “Wow, what was that all about?” I asked in what I hoped was a friendly, casually curious tone. I stuck my hand out. “By the way, I'm Nancy. Nancy Drew. I've seen you around the ship, remember?”

“Uh, sure.” The man glanced at me and shook my hand, though he looked distracted. “Nice to meet you. Fred Smith.”

“So what do you think was going on with those two?” I said. “Can you believe that guy fired the busboy in front of everyone? Crazy, right?”

“Just business as usual, I suppose. Excuse me.” Fred Smith pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. He hit a button and pressed the phone to his ear, turning away and disappearing into the crowd.

Okay, so much for that. I looked around for my friends. They were a few yards down the dock, gathered around Scott, the shore excursion specialist.

“Where'd you disappear to?” George asked when I joined them.

“Nowhere. Remember that nice busboy with the dimples who cleaned up the drink Coral spilled last night?” I said. “I think he just got fired.”

Scott glanced at me. “You talking about Sanchez?” he asked. “Yeah, just heard about that. Something about finding drugs in his locker.”

“Really? Wow, crazy,” Alan commented.

Scott shrugged. “It happens. Just an unfortunate side effect of dealing with a large crew of workers from all different backgrounds.” He grimaced slightly. “Some of them less, um, savory than others. Like Sanchez, for instance.” He cleared his throat and pasted a pleasant smile on his face, as if realizing he'd said too much. “In any case, I hope you won't let this incident spoil your day here in Skagway.”

“Don't worry about that.” George glanced toward the town's main street, which was lined with old-timey buildings. “This place looks pretty cool so far. Now, about that train ride . . .”

The others went back to discussing the day's activities. I was only half listening, though. Could the incident I'd just witnessed have anything to do with our case? That man, Fred Smith, had been one of our suspects the last time around. It was strange how he always seemed to be nearby whenever there was ­trouble. Did he need to go back on the list? Or could the busboy himself be the jewelry thief's accomplice? Scott had all but come out and said the guy might have a questionable past.

I chewed my lower lip, trying to figure out how all the clues might fit together. I wished I could question Scott about the busboy, since he seemed to know him. But I couldn't, not with Alan standing right there. I didn't want to raise his suspicions by seeming too interested in something like that—especially if he'd heard any of what Becca and I had been talking about earlier.