Strangers on a Train (4 page)

“Okay, there's that.” George leaned past me to snap a photo of a picturesque mountain pass. “But Becca said he has a good rep, right?”

“Uh-huh. She said the captain recommended him for this job. And he's worked in the cruise industry for quite a while.”

George nodded. “Okay. The other thing is, you admitted yourself that you're sleep deprived today. You're probably a little on edge from that. Totally understandable, right? But isn't it possible it's making you freak out over something that's not really freak-out-worthy?”

I couldn't help smiling at her choice of words. “Maybe,” I admitted, stifling yet another yawn. “Still, we both know from experience that you can't always tell who's a criminal based on their public reputation. Or even who their friends are.” I flashed momentarily to that hulking tough guy Scott had met in Ketchikan, and the man with the scarred face he'd talked to briefly before that. He'd claimed they were poker buddies. Was he telling the truth? “It might be worth checking him out a little more,” I added. “Just in case.”

“Agreed.” George frowned. “Although I'm starting to wonder whether this jewelry robbery business is even worth stressing over. I mean, the cops are already on the case, right? They're way better equipped to handle this kind of investigation—you know, the kind with real criminals. Possibly
dangerous
criminals.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said. “But if there's someone on the ship involved—”

“Then the cops will figure it out.” George shrugged. “That's their job. Besides, it was probably that busboy we saw get fired earlier. So we could be doing all this investigating and sneaking around for nothing.”

“Maybe.” I wasn't quite as convinced as she seemed to be. After all, neither the busboy nor his boss had mentioned anything about the robbery—just the illegal drugs. “But even if that busboy
is
the robber's accomplice, we still don't know who left me that threatening note. That couldn't have been the busboy—he'd never even laid eyes on me at that point.”

“How do you know the busboy didn't leave the note?” George countered, tapping her foot against the seat in front of us. “You're famous, you know. Sort of, anyway.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her. “How do you figure?”

“How many times have you been written up in the papers back home in River Heights for solving mysteries big and small?” George said. “All those stories end up on the newspapers' websites, you know. For all the world to see with a quick web search. So maybe your rep as the Sherlockina Holmes of the Midwest preceded you, and that busboy thought you were coming to Alaska to investigate him. He might have been trying to scare you off before you got started.”

“Sounds a little far-fetched, but I suppose anything's possible.” I shook my head. “Until we know for sure, we've got to keep our eyes open. I mean, I know we thought the case was closed when we caught Vince and Lacey.”

“But they swore they didn't do some of the bad stuff,” George said with a nod. “Like pushing you off that walkway in Ketchikan, and the moose antler thing, and some of the problems Becca told us about from before the cruise started.”

“Yeah. A few of those incidents could've been accidents or red herrings,” I said. “Maybe somebody just bumped me innocently on that narrow walkway, and I lost my balance. And maybe there was an oversight and the screws on that moose antler never got tightened properly, so it fell when Bess and Alan leaned on it.”

“And maybe the pre-cruise problems were just bad luck or human error or whatever,” George went on.

“Right. But
someone
left that note in my suitcase. And if that same someone might possibly have been the one who pushed me over the railing back in ­Ketchikan, I need to figure out who it is before something even worse happens. If it turns out that busboy was behind it all like you said, cool. All we've lost is some time and energy we could've used for sightseeing today.” I shrugged. “If not? Then we'd better not waste an entire day looking at pretty scenery and shopping for souvenirs while the real culprit could be planning his or her next move.”

George didn't answer for a moment, instead clearing her throat loudly. Glancing up, I saw Hiro hurrying down the aisle. He spotted us, too, and smiled.

“Having a nice time?” he asked, pausing and leaning a hand on the back of our seat. “The scenery is spectacular out here, isn't it? I thought I'd miss the warm blue waters of the Caribbean when I left Jubilee to take this job. But it's been great to see a new part of the world.”

“You worked for Jubilee before?” I was surprised, though I wasn't sure why. The cruise industry was really pretty small, and Jubilee Cruise Lines was one of its largest players. A lot of the
Arctic Star
's crew, including Becca, had worked for Jubilee before being lured away by Superstar Cruises.

Hiro nodded. “I was assistant cruise director on one of the ships,” he said. “It was a great job, but when I heard Superstar had a spot open for kiddie coordinator, I jumped at it. I love working with kids.” He checked his watch. “Speaking of which, I'd better scoot. Got a bunch of the little rascals waiting for me right now. Enjoy the rest of the ride, ladies.”

“Thanks,” George and I chorused as he hurried off.

“That's weird,” George said once he was gone.

“What?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Becca's the assistant cruise director on our ship, right? And I thought you said she was Hiro's boss. So it sounds like he took a demotion to take this job. Why would someone do that? Especially since it sounds like he was skeptical about leaving the Caribbean to come to Alaska?”

“Good question. But I'm not totally sure Becca is actually his boss,” I said. “I'll text her right now and ask.”

I pulled out my phone and started tapping out a quick text. “Cool, your phone's working again,” George said, peering over my shoulder.

“Uh-huh.” My phone had gone dead—or at least temporarily unconscious—after my unplanned dip in the cold waters beneath that walkway in Ketchikan. “After it dried out, it was fine.”

“So are you going to ask Becca about Scott, too?” George asked.

“I think I'll wait and ask her about that in person.” I tucked the phone away. “Seems too complicated to do via text. Anyway, I guess this means Hiro's still on the suspect list?”

“Definitely,” George said. “He was around when the moose antler crashed. And you said Becca acted weird when you asked about him that time—maybe she's suspicious of him too.”

“Maybe.” I thought about that conversation. As soon as I'd mentioned Hiro's name, Becca had rushed off, claiming she needed to be somewhere. “But if she thinks we should investigate him, why wouldn't she just say so?”

“Got me.” George shrugged. “Anyway, we already know Scott's on the list now too. Who else?”

I thought about our previous suspect list. “Well, there's Wendy.”

“Wendy the Wacko?” George nodded. “Yeah, she's too weird
not
to keep on the list, I guess. But actually, I'm thinking it's more likely to be a crew member than a passenger. Like Scott or Hiro. Or maybe Tatjana—we were suspicious of her before, right? I mean, how would someone like Wendy sneak around the ship causing trouble? She doesn't exactly blend into the background.”

“True. But Wendy still has a decent motive,” I said. “She really wants her blog to be a success. What better way than making sure this cruise is one everybody wants to read about, even if it's a crime she's writing about?” I remembered one more suspect we hadn't discussed yet. “And let's not forget Fred.”

“Fred? Who's Fred?”

“Mr. Hawaiian Shirt,” I said. “I forgot to tell you, he turned up right after the busboy got fired and started trying to get involved.”

“Weird. The guy acts like he'd rather be working on the ship than traveling on it,” George said. “Pretty sure I've seen him in the kitchen more often than I've seen him at the pool.”

“Yeah.” I didn't say anything else, mostly because about a dozen redheads were pouring into the train car. They were all chatting and laughing, and several of them were clutching cameras. They rushed over to the other family reunion members, overflowing into the seats near ours.

One of them, a twentyish young woman with an auburn ponytail, glanced at George and me with a smile. “Hi! You're from our ship, right?” she said. “Isn't this fun?”

“Yeah, it's great,” George said.

Obviously we'd lost our quiet conversation spot. Probably just as well—if George and I stayed away too long, Alan might get suspicious. Especially if he'd heard even a little of my conversation with Becca earlier. He might be clueless, but he wasn't stupid. I didn't want to give him any excuse to figure out what was going on behind his back. I sure didn't want to risk blowing my cover—for Becca's sake and the safety of the ship's passengers.

I stood up, returning the redhead's smile. “Sorry, I think we took your seats,” I told her. “We'd better go find our friends now. See you back on the ship.”

“Wait up a sec, guys,” George said. “I have to tie my shoe.”

“Hurry up,” Alan told her as he, Bess, and I stopped. “Scott said we're running late, and I don't want to miss my chance to make my fortune.”

Bess grinned, squeezing his hand. “Don't get your hopes up, sweetie,” she said. “This gold-panning place is just a tourist spot right here in town. It's not exactly breaking new ground in the next gold rush.”

George glanced up from fiddling with the laces of her sneakers. “Still, gold's gold,” she said. “Scott said this place guarantees we'll each get to find some real gold in our pans.”

“Yeah. Like three granules of gold dust, probably,” Bess said.

As they continued squabbling amiably, I glanced forward. We were at the tail end of the large group of
Arctic Star
passengers making its way from the train station to the next activity in Skagway. Scott was at the front, leading the way.

My gaze lingered on him. He was back in professional mode, smiling and helpful, with no hint of the terrifying anger I'd seen. Could George be right? Had my exhaustion—not to mention my obsession with this case—made me see something that wasn't there?

I forgot about that as the crowd shifted and I spotted another familiar figure. It was Fred. He wasn't part of the group heading to the gold-panning place—instead he was scurrying along the sidewalk across the way with his hands in his pockets and his head tucked down between his shoulders. Almost as if he didn't want to be seen. Interesting.

George finally finished tying her shoe. “Come on, let's hurry,” she said. “I want to make sure I get the best gold-panning spot.”

“You guys go ahead,” I said. “I, um, need to find a restroom. I'll meet up with you in a minute.”

“You sure?” Alan said teasingly. “Don't expect us not to steal your gold if you take too long, Nancy!”

I forced a smile, trying to keep Fred in view out of the corner of my eye. “I'll have to take my chances. See you in a bit.”

By the time I pushed my way through the eager, gold-crazed crowd around me, Fred had disappeared. I hurried off in the direction I'd last seen him going. Whew! I spotted him again as soon as I rounded the next corner. He was just a few yards ahead of me, moving fast.

I fell into step behind him, doing my best to keep a few people between us. Good thing. Halfway down the block, Fred stopped abruptly, then turned and peered behind him. Oops.

Luckily, he didn't seem to see me. But it reminded me to be careful.

I continued to tail him. It wasn't easy. He stopped and stared around suspiciously every few moments. What was he doing?

Finally he ducked into a large souvenir shop. I waited a moment, allowing a few other people to pass before stepping inside myself.

The place was cavernous and crowded, packed with tourists pawing through tables overflowing with T-shirts, key chains, stuffed animals, and every other imaginable form of souvenir knickknack.

But where was Fred? I glanced around but couldn't see him anywhere. Outside, his brightly colored Hawaiian shirt had made him easy to spot. In here, surrounded by every flavor of colorful tchotchke? Not so much.

I moved deeper into the store, dodging a sticky-looking little girl cooing at a stuffed arctic fox and several loud, excited women with Boston accents exclaiming over some salmon jerky. Still no sign of my quarry.

Then I spotted a flash of orange and red toward the back of the store near an oversize stuffed grizzly bear wearing a Skagway souvenir hat and an apron emblazoned with the Alaskan flag. Hurrying closer, I finally spotted Fred.

He was huddled behind the bear, deep in conversation with Sanchez, the fired busboy!