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Murder on the Orient Espresso(20)

By:Sandra Balzo


‘Oh, no, I’ll be fine.’ Missy said, waving me off. ‘But thank you so much and please – after you close this window – do mingle and enjoy yourself. These are fun people. And, who knows? Maybe by the end of the weekend you’ll decide to kill someone.’

My face must have betrayed my thought.

Missy Hudson giggled, suddenly realizing. ‘Fictionally, of course!’





SEVEN





Making my way up to the front of the train, I found Pavlik already in the dining car, sitting in one of the C-shaped booths. Zoe, naturally, was butt-to-buns next to him.

‘Join us,’ he said, waving me to slide in on his other side.

I was about to when I noticed that they both had drinks in front of them. ‘Wait, where’d you get the wine?’

‘There’s a bar next door to the station,’ Pavlik said. ‘I’m sorry – did you want a glass?’

Did I want a glass of wine? Exactly how long had this man known me?

‘Not a problem,’ I fibbed. ‘Do I still have time to hop off and get myself one?’

‘Certainly,’ Zoe said, before turning back to Pavlik and ignoring me. ‘That’s fascinating. As county sheriff—’

I didn’t bother to hear more, despite my fascination with her sucking up. Instead I tried to thread my way to the nearest exit through the gaggle of people still boarding.

‘You’re not helping things, swimming against the tide like that,’ Princess Dragomiroff, aka Prudence said. She was pushing up the bracelets on her sleeves like she wanted to sock someone. I hoped it wasn’t me.

‘I’m sorry.’ I gave up and allowed myself to go with the flow. ‘I just wanted to jump off and grab a glass of wine before we leave.’

‘I wouldn’t chance it if I were you,’ Prudence said. ‘Zoe told me we were leaving at precisely eight p.m. and it’s just past that now. Once they fire up this baby, anyone not onboard will be left behind.’

‘But she’s the one who told me I had time,’ I protested.

‘I’ll bet she did.’ Prudence nodded toward the booth where Pavlik and Zoe still sat, heads together. ‘The bar in the club car just opened and if I were you, I’d get whatever crap they’re serving and hightail it back before our host inhales that sheriff of yours alive.’

I decided to take Prudence’s advice. It required me to push my way past the exit to the front car, but at least I wouldn’t risk getting off and being left behind.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one in search of libations. In fact, the line for the lone bartender was past Boyce/Bouc’s espresso bar and out onto the platform. This seemed a problem in light of both Prudence’s warning and the ‘All aboard!’ that somebody was shouting.

As I moved to the end of the line, a crack of thunder echoed. ‘That bitch would have left me here in the rain,’ I muttered under my breath.

‘I’m sorry?’ Markus/MacQueen stood on the platform.

‘I just said “the … weather’s a bitch.”’

‘Sure you did.’ With a grin he stepped back and waved for me to get in line in front of him.

‘Thank you, but there’s no need. I’ll just get a coffee for now.’

‘All aboard!’ again.

I beckoned. ‘We’d better get on before the train starts to move.’

‘You think the bitch will leave us in the rain?’ Markus flashed me a grin.

I smiled sheepishly as he and I both part pushed and part edged our way into the train vestibule.

With multiple apologies and explanations, I continued on, bypassing the queue for the bar to get to the espresso station where there was no line at all.

I hesitated, not sure how welcome I’d be given our earlier conversation, but Boyce greeted me like an old friend – a sure sign he was bored. ‘I’m afraid it’s going to be a long night. Pete’s doing gangbuster business, though. I’m thinking I should give him a hand rather than standing here twiddling my thumbs.’

‘Pete is the bartender?’ I asked, taking in the dark blue uniform the good-looking young man was wearing.

‘Not really, but that’s what Missy is calling him. He’s also the conductor.’

‘What?’ I didn’t get it.

Boyce laughed. ‘Missy needed a bartender who could play “Pierre Michel,” conductor of the Orient Express. Tomorrow, Pete/Pierre Michel goes back to being Brandon, a server at the Olive Garden.’

Pete, it was. ‘Do you want to help him while I staff the coffee bar for you?’

‘I think I will, but there’s no need for you to stay. If somebody does show up, I can always slide over and handle it.’