Then Missy tensed again as people continued to file past us. ‘I still don’t see Laurence. Would you help me search while the rest of the group is occupied?’
My eyes lingered longingly at the cake, but I said, ‘Of course.’
Missy turned, and I managed a last swipe at the frosting before following. ‘Aren’t you going the wrong way? You said the sleeping car is the last one, right?’
‘Yes.’ Missy stopped. ‘Except that we’ve reversed direction, so it’s the first car after the locomotive, which used to bring up the rear of the train, but now is the front.’
I think my eyes must have crossed, because Missy waved for me to come along. ‘I’ll show you.’
We passed from the dining car into the vestibule, where the noise of the track passing below the metal plates beneath our feet made conversation difficult until we opened the next door into the passenger car. It was empty except for Danny and Audra Edmonds. They were seated side by side, curly dark hair and blonde waves close as they chatted in low tones.
‘Excuse me,’ Missy interrupted. ‘But we seem to have lost track of Mr Potter.’
Audra looked up. ‘Have you checked with Rosemary?’
‘She’s not feeling well,’ Missy said. ‘She’s lying down in the sleeping car.’
Danny’s eyes flickered. ‘Rosemary Darlington? I saw you go by with her before. I’d love to meet her.’
I bet he would. I’d also bet that if I quizzed the star-chaser he’d have no memory of meeting me once, much less twice.
‘I’m afraid she’s unavailable at the moment,’ Missy said in the voice of an experienced gatekeeper. ‘But I’d be happy to introduce you sometime during the conference,’ she glanced at his badge, her nose crinkling, ‘Danny.’
I caught the sign of displeasure, probably at Danny/Col. Arbuthnot’s lack of alliteration.
‘He signed up late and barely caught the bus,’ I told her. ‘You and Rosemary had already left, so I assume the conference registration person just assigned a character to him randomly.’
Danny glanced down at the badge self-consciously. ‘Is there a problem? Like I told Zoe, I did pay.’
‘No, no – it’s fine,’ Missy said and, to my surprise, smiled brightly at the young man. ‘We’re happy to have you.’
The two were probably close in age. Could love be in the air?
‘Thank you,’ Danny said. ‘Are you an author?’
Before Missy could answer that she was ‘just a researcher,’ and thereby render herself invisible, I jumped in. ‘Missy is one of the conference organizers. She knows everyone.’
That piqued his interest. ‘A pleasure to meet you, Missy. You must have a very interesting job.’
Missy blushed. ‘I suppose so. I—’
‘Missy works closely with all sorts of famous authors,’ I said encouragingly. ‘And publishers, too, I’m sure. Right, Missy?’
‘Well, I … No—’
‘All guests to the dining car,’ Zoe’s voice thundered over the intercom again.
‘Oh, dear,’ Missy said. ‘If we don’t find Laurence, who’s to solve the crime?’
‘If it helps, Mr Potter passed through here not long after you and Ms Darlington did,’ Danny said. ‘He had a pack of cigarettes and was headed the same way.’
Toward the sleeping car. Having walked a mile in the cheated-upon spouse’s shoes myself, Danny’s statement would have raised a red flag for me. It apparently did for Audra as well.
‘“The same way,”’ she repeated, not seeming at all surprised. ‘What a coincidence.’
‘He may have gone out on the landing – or whatever you call it, between cars – for a smoke.’ Danny seemed to sense he’d said something to upset her. Why he cared, I didn’t know.
‘It’s called a vestibule,’ Missy said. ‘And there’s no smoking on the train, anywhere.’
So I’d been right.
‘Like I said,’ Danny continued, ‘I wasn’t sure where he was going, only that he had his cigarettes. I was going to follow, see if we could talk, but I saw Mrs … um, Audra, and thought I’d introduce myself.’
I frowned. Something wasn’t right. ‘I’m sorry, but didn’t I see the two of you speaking in the club car before Audra surprised everyone?’
‘Just for a second,’ Danny said. ‘I didn’t know who she was then.’
Well, that explained it. I had to admit Zoe Scarlett was right. It is hard to know who to suck up to without a scorecard – or, at least, last names and titles on nametags. I was curious about this kid. Hell, about all these people. ‘You sent your manuscript to Larry Potter, why—’