The Insane Train (11 page)

The men looked at one another. “Ethan went home,” Seth said.

“Back to New York?”

“His momma fell sick,” Roy said.

“I didn't think Ethan had family.”

“Maybe he just got tired of living under a bridge,” Roy said. “I sure as hell am.”

Hook walked over to the main pier where the three stones were laid out in a row.

“I understand you boys have been under the weather?”

Seth shook his head. “Sober, too.”

Hook knelt and studied the newly turned soil and the stones.

“I reckon Ethan won't be coming back this way anytime soon?”

“He said he was real sorry that he had to leave,” Seth said. “But he didn't want to bother no one with his troubles.”

“Well, a man's got to do what's in his mind,” Hook said, taking out his billfold. “Here's a little advance. You boys can pay me back out of your first check. I want you to get a room, clean up, and come back to work on Monday. We got a train in, and things are on the move. Baldwin's in need of help.”

“What about the cop?” Seth asked.

“I'll take care of this. You boys get on out of here.”

Hook waited for them to gather up their belongings and climb the embankment before he rolled the cop over on his back. The knot on his forehead was the size of a walnut, and dark rings had already gathered under both of his eyes. But he breathed with a steady stroke, and his lids flickered.

Hook gathered up the cop's sidearm and badge and tossed them on his chest before climbing up the embankment. The patrol car had been pulled onto the side of the road. He opened the door and hit the switch on the two-way.

“Central, central,” he said. “This is Bye-Bye Bluebird. You got a man down under the Fourth Street Bridge. Better get out there with an aspirin.”

As he drove back to the caboose, he thought about Ethan and about how a man could slip out of this world without so much as a ripple.

Andrea found Esther under her cot rubbing black pepper into her nose.

“Oh, Lord, Esther,” she said. “You mustn't steal the pepper shakers. Do you understand me?”

Esther sneezed, and her eyes filled with water. Andrea took the shaker and cleaned Esther's nose with her handkerchief.

“Why do you do that?” she asked.

“Feels good,” Esther said, pulling at her nose.

Lucy, whose head still bore the marks from the tent pole, tapped Andrea on the arm.

“Esther's leaving,” she said, holding her doll over her shoulder.

“Oh, dear,” Andrea said. “Esther, come back here.”

Esther wandered back toward the tent with her bottom lip stuck out. She had one shoe on, the other in her hand, and her dress turned wrong side out.

“I'm going home,” Esther said. “It's my turn.”

“No, Esther,” Andrea said, handing her a washcloth. “You have to clean the tables for me.”

Esther grinned and proceeded to scrub the tabletop. “I'm in charge,” she said.

“Yes, you are,” Andrea said, pushing the hair back from her eyes. “When you're done with that one, clean the next one, too.”

“Nurse Andrea,” Lucy said. “Ruth has her tit out.”

“Ruth,” Andrea said. “Button your blouse up before you cause a riot.”

Ruth shrugged and buttoned her shirt.

Even though Doctor Baldwin had sent Andrea a couple of ladies from the kitchen to help out, they were inexperienced and could do little more than watch. But at least most everyone had recovered from the food poisoning, and Frankie had not cranked up his record player.

An hour behind schedule, Andrea had the meds ready. As she worked her way through the list, she realized that Bertha was missing.

“Keep a lookout,” she told the kitchen help. “I've got to find Bertha.”

Andrea searched the parking lot and then the picnic area but found nothing. Though Bertha could be difficult, she had never left on her own before. Andrea walked up to where the mass grave had been dug and then down the hill to where the bushes thickened along the fence.

“Bertha,” she called.

When Bertha stepped out of the bushes, Andrea jumped.

“Bertha?” she said. “Good heavens, you scared me. What are you doing out here?”

Bertha's face and neck were flushed, and the buttons on her dress were mismatched with their buttonholes. Leaves clung in her hair.

“Picking grapes,” she said.

“What?”

“Grapes.”

“Bertha, there are no grapes out here.”

Bertha brushed the leaves out of her hair.

“Come along,” Andrea said. “You mustn't wander off like that. You wouldn't want to be confined to a cell, now would you?”

Andrea took her by the arm as they walked back toward the tent. Just as they were crossing the parking lot, she spotted Frankie Yager going into the boys' ward. He looked over at them as he closed the door behind him.

“Bertha, you weren't out there with someone, were you?” Bertha shook her head. “You would tell me, wouldn't you? You know it's against the rules?”

“I know,” she said.

 

Andrea knocked on Doctor Helms's door and waited.

“Yes.”

“May I speak with you for a moment, Doctor Helms?”

Helms looked up from her desk. “Is it urgent? I'm rather busy.”

“It's just that Bertha ran away this morning.”

Doctor Helms looked over the tops of her glasses, her eyes as black as tar.

“And did you get her back?”

“Yes,” Andrea said.

“Then what is it you need?”

“The thing is, I think she'd been with someone in the bushes by the fence.”

“Oh? I see, but then these things happen in an institution, Andrea. You must have seen it before.”

“Yes, I suppose I have.”

“Well, then, take away her privileges for a while. It's about all we can do.”

“In most cases I would agree that it's not so important, Doctor Helms. But I think this requires attention.”

Doctor Helms took off her glasses and unfolded her legs from beneath her desk.

“Could you be more specific?”

“I believe she'd been with Frankie Yager,” she said.

“You saw them together?”

“I saw him coming back just as we did.”

Doctor Helms came around the desk. “These are serious allegations. You'd have to be quite certain.”

“I didn't literally see them together, if that's what you mean.”

Helms walked to her bookcase, pulled a book out partway, and then pushed it back in.

“I'll keep an eye on things. If your allegations prove to be true, I'll see that disciplinary procedures are put into place. Until then, please keep this to yourself.”

“Alright,” she said. “But I want no harm to come to my patients.”

“I understand, Andrea. And thank you for reporting this to me first.”

Andrea stood outside of the door for several moments. Back at the tent, she gathered up her things.

“I'm going home now,” she said to the ladies from the kitchen.

“And leave us alone?”

Andrea checked her watch. “I've been here ten hours without relief. That's long enough. If you need help, I'm sure that Frankie Yager would be happy to oblige.”

As Andrea got in her car, she glanced back at the boys' ward. Frankie was sitting on the porch smoking a cigarette, watching her.

 

The real estate agent had placed a for-sale sign in the front yard of Andrea's house, a red and white banner as big as a tabletop. Andrea sat in her car for some time looking at it. The old house wasn't much, but it was all she had, all her parents had managed after a lifetime of hard work. Selling it now smacked of betrayal, even though she knew in her heart they would have understood.

Once inside, she took a shower and then poured a large glass of wine. Her legs ached, and she'd barely had time enough to eat. Why she had agreed to go off on this crazy trip, she couldn't fathom. It was not like they appreciated her.

And then that business with Frankie Yager, having taken advantage of her patients. She hadn't seen him, but she knew what was going on. She took another drink before opening the curtains. The sunset, Barstow's saving grace, blazed on the horizon. Her stomach tightened. Why had she volunteered to go? Maybe the reasons were more personal and less about her patients than she'd allowed herself to think.

One had much to be cautious about when it came to Hook Runyon. A man didn't become a railroad bull without a proclivity for the hard side of life. And she knew little about him, though she sensed the toughness, the aggression lying just beneath the surface, the way his eyes followed every movement like a stalking cat.

Andrea watched as the sun oozed below the desert rim. She finished her drink and rose to turn on the light. The phone rang out of the darkness.

“Hello,” she said.

“Andrea?”

“Yes. This is she.”

“Hook here. I thought you might like to do the flea markets with me?”

“I've really a lot to do before the trip.”

“Around ten? I have the company truck.”

“Well, then,” she said. “I suppose. I am feeling the need for a break.”

“Great,” he said. “I'll pick you up.”

Andrea lay in bed and listened to the far-off whistle of a train as it raced through the desert. So why then was she drawn to this man? Perhaps it was
because
of his intensity and unpredictability, his raw intelligence and rough edges hacked out like an axe carving. Perhaps the very things she found wanting were what set him aside and made her anxious for tomorrow.

Andrea stepped from the front porch when Hook drove in. She slid in beside him and hiked her foot on the dash to tie her shoe. Her hair lay in wet curls.

“Hi,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “I'm moving slowly. The hours at Baldwin are killing me.”

“Hi back,” he said. “So where is a good flea market?”

“Take a left on Main. It's out by the fairgrounds. I haven't been in a long time.”

Hook shot a U-turn and rolled down his window. The town still slept, and the morning air smelled of the desert. He pulled in at Jan's Restaurant and bought them coffee.

“Good,” she said, blowing the steam from her cup. “So what are we looking for today?”

“Shakespeare's first folio,” he said.

Andrea rolled her eyes. “In Barstow?”

“Well, barring that, I'd settle for some bargains.”

The vendors were still setting up when they drove in. Andrea followed Hook's pace as they made their way to the stalls.

“I admit it feels good to get away,” she said.

“Let's start over there,” he said, “and make the loop.”

They poked through costume jewelry, racks of musty clothes, kitchen utensils, and stacks of old hubcaps. Andrea sifted through a collection of thimbles, a table heaped with Carnival glass, and a basket of agate marbles.

At noon they ate hot dogs topped with mustard and homemade chow-chow, washing it down with Dr Peppers fished out of a horse tank filled with crushed ice.

At each opportunity, Hook picked through the books, checking the title pages and the dust jackets with care. When he could carry no more, he looked over the stack in his arms.

“What say we go?”

“It's either that or bring in the truck,” she said.

So as the sun lowered in the west, they drove down Main with Hook's loot safely ensconced in the back.

“How about a Mojave burger?” he asked.

Andrea lifted her brows. “I guess it's too late to save my figure at this point anyway.”

Hook wheeled in at the Mojave Hamburger.

“It would take more than a burger,” he said.

Andrea blushed. “Yeah?”

“I'm the law,” he said, “and cannot tell a lie.”

“I'm not good at flattery,” she said. “It comes from being a caretaker my whole life.”

“Say,” he said. “Let's order to go. I'll show you my caboose.”

“Now there's an invitation,” she said. “But I think not.”

“You can meet Mixer, my dog,” he said.

Andrea glanced up at him. “It's safe, this invitation?”

“You can fault me for lots of things, but forcing myself on a woman isn't one of them. Too much pride, I suspect.”

“I guess it would be alright,” she said. “But only for a little while.”

When they pulled onto the right-of-way, Andrea looked down the line of outfit cars. The old steamer sat as cold and silent as a dinosaur. For some time she didn't speak.

“We're taking the inmates in that?” she asked.

Hook nodded. “It's all they could come up with. She's old but functional. That girl has hauled many a load across the desert in her time.”

“And that's your caboose?”

“Come on,” he said. “I'll show you my collection.”

Mixer met them at the door with something in his mouth.

“Oh, dear,” Andrea said. “I believe he's eating one of your socks.”

Hook sat down his books. “Goddang it, Mixer.”

Mixer dropped the sock, looked at it, and then looked up at Andrea.

Andrea got down on her knee. “It's alright, Mixer,” she said. “You want Hook's sock, you can just have it.”

Mixer wagged his tail and snuggled into Andrea's lap.

“That dog requires a strong hand,” Hook said. “Undermining my discipline is not good.”

“Perhaps if you picked up your socks,” Andrea said.

“Oh, now I see how it is.”

Andrea stood, taking in the surroundings. Books were stacked everywhere, some still spilled on the floor from the trip across the Mojave.

“Oh, my,” she said. “Do you really need all these books?”

Hook looked about the caboose. “Essential,” he said.

They ate their hamburgers, sharing with Mixer. Andrea sat cross-legged on the floor and watched as Hook examined each of the new acquisitions.

“Ah,” Hook said, holding up a book. “This is the one that makes it all worthwhile, Sinclair Lewis's
Ann Vickers
. I've been looking everywhere for it. It's in fine condition, too.”

Afterward, they sat on the steps of the caboose while Hook smoked a cigarette. Mixer worked his way down the outfit cars, marking each as he went, and then came back to curl up at Andrea's feet. The sun eased down, and the sky erupted in a blaze of color.

“Andrea,” Hook said, “I've been thinking.”

“I know,” she said.

“About that fire.”

“You are still not convinced of an accident, are you?”

“Well, I can't be certain, of course, but arsonists have their ways.”

“What do you mean?”

“Knowing they're about to burn something up gives them an advantage. They're not inclined to burn what they value, not when they can save it ahead of time.”

Andrea rubbed her hands together against the cooling evening. “I don't understand.”

“Take Frankie Yager, for example. That record player and those records are pretty important to him.”

Andrea looked over at Hook. “Yes. He drives everyone to distraction with them.”

“And they weren't in the fire?”

“No, they weren't.”

“And he failed to eat lunch at the cafeteria the day everyone came down with food poisoning.”

“So did I.”

“But you never eat at the cafeteria.”

“I like having a minute to myself. I bring my own lunch every day.”

“And no one in the security ward came down sick?”

“No. I don't think so.”

“Doctor Helms, the inmates, the security guard?”

“Not that I am aware of. Often their food is prepared ahead of time so that it can be taken to the ward.”

“And then there's that business with the breaker,” he said.

“The breaker?”

“Suppose I wanted to spoil the food without anyone knowing it. I could switch off the cooler breaker early the night before so the temperature would rise and spoil the food. Turn it back on later, and no one would ever know.”

Andrea hooked her chin in her hands and looked over at him. “Do you think someone threw the cooler breaker?”

Hook put his cigarette under his heel, squashing it out.

“The breaker to the ovens had been thrown. It just so happens it's positioned right next to the cooler breaker. Given the dim light of the utility room, well, you can see what I mean.”

“You think the oven breaker was thrown by accident and not reset?”

“It's another coincidence in a long line of coincidences.”

Andrea shivered. “Something happened the other day I haven't told you about,” she said.

“Oh?”

“Bertha came up missing from the tent, and I found her in the bushes over by the compound fence. I think she had been with someone.”

“It's my understanding that sort of thing happens,” Hook said.

“I saw Frankie coming back to the ward shortly after that. I think she had been with him.”

“Did you report it?”

“Doctor Helms wants more proof before she initiates anything.”

“Frankie does get around,” he said. “There's just one problem with this whole business.”

“What?”

“Why set a fire that kills a bunch of people and then poison the entire compound? A man would have to have a lot of hatred to do something like that. What would he have to gain here?”

“He's a pretty simple man,” she said. “He responds to his immediate needs and little else. Frankie is a reactor, not a planner. Who knows what might set him off?”

Andrea leaned her head against Hook's shoulder. When he turned, she put her hand behind his neck and brushed her lips against his.

“Andrea,” he said.

“Oh, dear,” she said. “I didn't intend for that to happen. I'm sorry.”

“It's just that there's things about me.”

“You're married?”

“No, and there's probably good reason for that.”

“But there's someone else?”

“I'm not much of a catch for a woman. Some say I'm too quick to drop the hat. Others say my drinking gets in my way. Right now my job's on the line for a thing in Flagstaff. If it goes against me, I've no place else to work.”

“That's what others say. What do you say?”

“Me? In my line, if you wait too long to drop the hat, someone else drops it for you. As for the drinking, it's true, I guess, though it rarely is more than a bit of fun. As for the arm, it's damn hard to button my shirt or tie my shoes. Beyond that, I just keep on living like everyone else. I get done what needs to be done one way or another.”

“Maybe you aren't the only one who isn't perfect,” she said. “I've been known to pout for days on end, and once I stole my dad's whiskey out of his liquor cabinet and wrecked his car. I've got two arms, but I can be dog lazy when I take a notion. Sorry about that Mixer.”

Mixer lifted his head and then went back to sleep.

“You sound like a real risk to me,” Hook said.

“The fact is, I've just gone through a bad relationship. This could be a rebound thing, and I don't want that for either of us.”

“Come on,” he said. “I better get you home.”

Hook pulled up in front of Andrea's house. She ruffed Mixer's head and got out.

“Thanks. I had a good day,” she said. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“The men will need to spend a little time in the security ward before we leave, Andrea.”

“Things have settled down in the women's ward. Move them if you need. We should be alright.”

“And I think we're going to be a man short.”

“Oh?”

“Ethan,” he said. “He's taken off, some sort of trouble at home.”

“Do you think he'll be back?”

“No,” he said. “I don't think so.”

“Look,” she said, “about what happened. I don't know how all this is going to work out. But we've been honest with each other. No one can say we weren't warned.”