The Insane Train (18 page)

 

When Andrea had gone into the darkness, Hook leaned against the wall of the caboose to smoke, the day's heat ebbing from the iron porch beneath him.

Whatever misery had been wrought and whatever might lie ahead, he would never forget his stay at the La Posada.

Hook found Frenchy backing the steamer into the coupler of the supply car. Frenchy climbed down the ladder and searched his pocket for a match.

“You look a sight better today than yesterday,” Hook said. “But then sleep can only do so much.”

Frenchy unwrapped his cigar and slid it under his nose. “Least my eyes match up,” he said.

“You get that side rod fixed?”

“In a fashion,” he said, snapping his match to life on his overalls button. “They ain't big on replacing parts on these ole buckets, given they're headed to salvage soon enough anyways.”

“Kind of like old engineers,” Hook said.

Frenchy lit his cigar, the flame of his match lifting and falling, a cloud of smoke encircling his head.

“So,” Frenchy said, blowing out his match. “I'm checking out with the operator this morning, see, and he says, ‘Did you hear about what happened at the restaurant last night?' And I says, ‘No, I been up there in the sleeping rooms making up for listening to that lying bakehead all week.' And he says, ‘Those mentals out of Barstow had a riot and broke up all the furniture.' And I says, ‘Why would they do that?' and he says, ‘Because of them bugs coming out of the kitchen.'”

“That so?” Hook said.

“And I says, ‘Bugs?' And he says, ‘Yup, cockroaches the size of saddle horses. The chef quit this morning. Says he won't work in no goddang café with bugs.'”

“You been drinking Mexican beer again, Frenchy?”

“So then I stop by the kitchen to see if the operator had it right. He gets things mixed up now and then.”

“I noticed that,” Hook said.

“And there was the chef madder than ole Billy. And so I says, ‘What's the matter, Chef? You still mad about them bugs?' And he says, ‘What bugs? I'm mad about that goddang dog.' And I says, ‘What dog?' And he says, ‘The one snuck in here this morning and ate up five pounds of my breakfast sausage.'”

“That's a mighty sad story,” Hook said.

“Guess you wouldn't know anything about that dog, would you, Hook?”

“I hate a sneaking dog,” Hook said.

“We'll be pulling out here pretty quick,” Frenchy said. “You got that bunch loaded up?”

“Loaded,” he said. “What's the schedule?”

“Albuquerque, then Amarillo. Layover there for service and then on to Oklahoma.”

“Maybe we can make some time then, huh, Frenchy?”

“You want to make time, you should have booked the Chief, Hook. And then we got that spur off the main line. It's forty miles of rusted iron and weeds. Hell, there ain't been nothing but a doodlebug over that track in twenty years. There's nothing but a short crossing loop outside town, no yard office, no turnabout, and there's a creek trestle the size of the goddang Grand Canyon to boot.

“Even if we make it, which seems unlikely, I'll have to back this kettle all the way back to Tangier. That means I can't see nothing, so I might find a farmer and a couple of cows stuck to the caboose when I get back.”

 

Hook found Mixer lying on the caboose porch. He peeked at Hook over the top of his stomach, which resembled the world globe that once sat on the teacher's desk in Hook's third-grade classroom.

“Damn ole thief,” Hook said, pushing him through the door. Mixer groaned and stretched out in the corner.

Hook signaled all clear before climbing into the cupola. The smears of blood down the side of the caboose had covered with dust and dried. As soon as the train made speed, he'd do a turn through to make certain they had everything under control.

Hook watched the countryside open up like an oil painting as they chugged down the alley. Birds swarmed in the cobalt sky like schools of fish, and the sparkling air filled his lungs.

Whatever burdens had accrued faded now, and the hopes of a new place and time emerged. Each departure brought with it the promise of renewal, the chance to change. For it not to be so, to live always in a single place, would be to bury a man alive under a lifetime of mistakes.

When the train had made speed, Hook circulated through the cars. Andrea and Seth were occupied with Esther, who had taken Bertha's seat, having decided that it was larger than her own. Esther hung onto the armrest with both hands, determined not to be ousted.

“Morning,” Seth said, prying Esther's fingers loose. “You'll never know how much I appreciate you getting me this job, Hook.”

“You need a change, Seth, they could use a hand in the security car. Course smoke breaks are a little hard to come by.”

Andrea smiled over at Hook and winked. “We live for our smoke breaks around here, don't we, Seth?”

Seth grinned. “Something tells me my smoke breaks are not as exciting as Hook's.”

“I'll talk to you later,” Hook said to Andrea.

He found Doctor Baldwin in the supply car digging through the files. Baldwin looked up when Hook came in. Deep lines pulled at the corners of his eyes.

“Doctor Baldwin,” Hook said.

Baldwin stacked the files on the corner of his desk.

“I've been going over these personnel files again. I could find nothing to suggest that Frankie Yager might have been a risk. His credentials are all in order.”

“Yes,” Hook said. “I believe that's what Doctor Helms indicated.”

Baldwin rubbed his face. “The complexity of the human mind is at once our greatest asset and our greatest weakness, Mr. Runyon. In the end we know so little about how it functions.”

“Things will work out,” Hook said.

“I do hope you're right. I'm afraid my energy has hit bottom. I can barely concentrate it seems. For all practical purposes, Doctor Helms has been keeping the security ward together on her own. I don't know what I'd do without her.

“And now Winslow is asking for immediate payment for the meals and the damages incurred by the patients. They're telling me the railroad has declined to pay for the hotel.

“And when I called ahead to report our arrival at Fort Supply, I'm told the town has refused to turn on the utilities at the fort without an advance deposit.

“The fact is, I'm all but broke, and there's been no movement on the insurance problem. On top of that, the mayor has asked that we reconsider locating in the community. They are fearful of the inmates. People are often afraid of what they don't understand.”

“We'll soon be there,” Hook said. “Once you're settled, things will calm down.”

“Yes,” he said. “Perhaps you're right. I do hope you're right, Mr. Runyon.”

 

Hook took Mixer for a quick spin at the Albuquerque depot while Frenchy watered the pig, and they were soon on their way to Amarillo. The land leveled out as they steamed into the staked plains of West Texas. No boundary existed between sky or land. A man alone might wander endlessly in the featureless landscape with no way different from the other.

Amarillo first appeared as a dot, a single point in perpetuity, and then as a cluster of buildings huddled on the horizon.

Rather than risk another calamity in the Harvey House, Hook arranged for sandwiches and coffee to be delivered to the cars, assuring the manager that if the railroad didn't reimburse, he would personally do so.

From there, he cut between the depot and the Railway Express Agency to get back to his caboose. He'd gone only a few yards when three men stepped out.

All three wore uniforms and police badges. The tall one, whose gray hair had been carefully groomed, rested his hand on his sidearm.

“You Hook Runyon?” he asked.

Hook looked them over. The visit clearly wasn't social.

“That's right,” Hook said. “What can I do for you?”

“I'm the chief of police,” he said. “You could surrender your sidearm for a start.”

“I'm the railroad dick,” Hook said. “What's the problem?”

“Your sidearm first,” the chief said. “If you don't mind?”

“You're on railroad property,” Hook said.

“I got a warrant for your arrest,” he said. “You surrender the weapon, or we'll be forced to take it.”

“That could be an uncomfortable situation,” Hook said.

“It's your call,” the chief said, nodding to the other two, who circled out.

“Okay, Chief,” he said, reaching for his weapon with two fingers. “Maybe we can straighten this out.”

“Down at the station,” the chief said. “More comfortable there.”

“I might miss my ride,” Hook said.

“We'll give the operator a call from the station,” he said. “You got nothing to hide, you'll be on your way.”

“Alright,” Hook said.

Once at the station, they took him into the interrogation room, a closet-sized space with a single table and no windows. After they'd read him his rights, the chief pulled up a chair and offered him a cigarette.

“Thanks,” Hook said. “What's this all about, Chief? I usually find myself on the other side of the table.”

The chief lit their cigarettes and leaned back. “I guess we all wind up on the wrong side of the table now and then, Runyon.”

“I don't mean to rush you, Chief, but I got a trainload of mental patients waiting back there.”

“They found that Robert Smith fellow strung out over five miles of track, Runyon. Fact is, appears there's bodies strewn all the way from Barstow to Amarillo.”

“That's all been cleared up, Chief.”

“Not quite all,” he said.

“We received a call from Barstow just this morning,” he said. “A body turned up under the bridge there. Looked like critters had dug it up, they said.”

“Can't quite see what that has to do with me, Chief.”

“There was a quart jar with a set of dog tags in it. This feller's name was Ethan Berger. Don't suppose you recognize it?”

“A vet we hired on at Baldwin,” Hook said. “He never returned after he came down sick.”

“This Barstow cop says he was attacked by a one-armed man under the bridge and nearly killed, a railroad bull who frequented the jungle there. He figures that this soldier's death might be connected to that railroad bull somehow.”

“That's how he figures it, does he? I whipped that son of a bitch even up, and he's still sore, that's all.

“Look, Chief, Ethan was just a lonely vet living in the jungle. He died from what was probably food poisoning and complications from a belly wound he got in the war. Being Jewish, he needed to be buried within twenty-four hours. I figure the others helped him out a little, that's all.”

The chief pushed back his chair, took out his comb, and ran it through his hair.

“That's quite a story.”

“The truth often is,” Hook said.

“Especially since there was a cross found right there by the grave. A cross would be Christian, I believe.”

“I don't know about a cross, Chief. I wasn't there. But I know who was. I hired all those boys out of that jungle to help transfer insane-asylum patients to Oklahoma. They're out there in that train as we speak. I figure they could fill in the details if you'd bring them in.”

The chief squashed his cigarette out in the ashtray and stood.

“Alright,” he said. “We'll go pick them up. Meanwhile, you can have a rest back there in the tank.”

“You best take some men with you to watch those cars,” Hook said. “If not, you'll have your hands full. There's nineteen of the meanest sons of bitches this side of Arizona out there, and there's nothing between them and your boys here but a couple pills a day.”

Hook sat on the bunk in the drunk tank and considered how he'd gone from lawman to inmate in a single hour. A cockroach with antennas the size of a patrol car's raced across the floor and under his bunk.

When he heard voices in the office, he stood up, straining to hear.

“Take a look at that man in there, boys,” the chief said. “Tell me if you know him.”

Seth stepped to the door and looked in at Hook.

“I ain't sure, Chief. He looks a lot like one of them insane criminals we got on the train. What do you think, Roy?”

Roy peeked in. “You sure he ain't a hysterectomy?” he said.

Santos joined Roy, grinning over his shoulder. “Un hombre loco,” he said.

“Look it there,” Seth said. “He's got one arm just like ole Hook.”

“How'd you like me to choke you to death with it?” Hook said.

“Sounds like Hook, don't it?” Seth said.

“Gentle as a milk cow just like ole Hook,” Roy said.

“By God, I believe that
is
Hook,” Seth said.

The chief let Hook out and brought him into the room with the others.

“You boys through having your fun, maybe you could tell me if this man had anything to do with Ethan Berger's death?”

“Like we told you, Chief,” Seth said. “Hook wasn't nowhere around when Ethan died. Ethan came down with poison sickness he picked up at Baldwin Insane Asylum. Said he'd rather be dead under a bridge than alive in an army hospital.