Murder on the Orient Espresso(36)

‘Nearly a year.’ She shivered and put a hand up to the air-conditioning unit by her head. ‘Happily, that’s all in the past.’

‘Absolutely,’ Missy said. ‘Water under the bridge.’

Another quaint expression, but I was examining what looked like an airplane tray table ‘in the upright and locked position’ on the wall inside the compartment next to the bunk. ‘Hey,’ I said. ‘This flips down into a sink.’

Missy pointed. ‘And below that is a toilet.’

‘Huh.’ I lifted the lid to see the blue water. ‘So, each roomette has its own toilet and sink?’

‘Apparently so, though I’m sure I saw …’ She stepped into the corridor. ‘Oh, yes – there are more facilities off the corridor, just like I thought.’

I followed her out. ‘Seems like the sleeping car has cornered the market on restrooms. They couldn’t have spared one or two more for the rest of the train?’

‘Good point,’ Missy said. ‘We’ll have to remind people they can use the lavatories back here. After the crime is solved, of course.’

‘And by Potter, let’s hope.’ I slid open one of the ‘lavatory’ doors she’d indicated. ‘There’s no toilet in here, just a shower, sink and dressing area.’

Missy pulled open the matching door on the other side of the corridor and looked inside. ‘This one, too. I guess that makes sense, given what you said about each room having its own toilet facilities. The only thing the sleeping car passengers would need is a shower and somewhere to dress before venturing out into the corridor again.’

Scattered applause came from the group down the hall, and they started to troop away from us and toward the dining car. ‘Is it time to cut the cake?’ I asked.

‘Did someone say cake?’ came from the roomette. Rosemary had slipped back under the blanket. ‘Can you bring me a piece?’

‘Certainly,’ Missy said. ‘Back in a flash.’

‘Let’s hope there’s something left of it when we get there,’ I said to Missy.

‘We still don’t have a knife,’ she said as we approached the room Pavlik had used for his portrayal of the victim, Ratchett.

‘True, but the sheriff does have his “classic” Swiss Army knife.’

‘Oh, dear,’ Missy said. ‘We should have cleaned that up.’

The crowd had finished the job I’d inadvertently started, stomping the cake in the hallway to an unrecognizable blue and white mish-mash.

‘Now it’ll be tracked all over the train,’ the event planner lamented.

I guiltily rubbed the edge of my own shoe against the carpet.

The door of the roomette had been left open and I stepped in. ‘Just let me see something.’

‘What’s wrong? Did Jake forget to close the window?’

I noticed that using Pavlik’s first name was no longer a problem for the girl.

‘No, it’s closed.’ And a good thing too, since the wind was pummeling rain against the glass. I went to where the sink was located in the other roomette and, sure enough, it seemed to be standard equipment. I let the thing down, then re-secured it in its original position.

Next I lifted the lid over the toilet.

A cigarette butt floated in the blue water.





FOURTEEN





‘I don’t get it,’ Missy was saying as I slid the door closed. ‘How did you know that Laurence had been smoking in that room?’

‘Easy.’ I was feeling smug. ‘The cake in the doorway, for one thing. He must have dropped it opening the door. And then there was the open window. Potter must have been worried about setting off any smoke detectors.’

‘Wow,’ Missy said. ‘You really should write mysteries. How did you know Laurence wouldn’t flush the toilet?’

‘He’s a man. I’m surprised he didn’t leave the seat up, too.’

In truth, the floating cigarette butt had been a lucky break. Not that I was going to admit it.

Missy screwed up her face. ‘But if Laurence was smoking in the roomette, he wouldn’t have needed to open the exit door. So, what was the matchbook doing on the floor next to it?’

‘Beats me. But since the book was empty, we know Potter dropped it after he had his smoke,’ I said as we passed the spot in question.

‘And on his way to rejoin the rest of the group in the dining car?’

‘Exactly.’

‘That’s wonderful reasoning, Maggy,’ Missy said, nearly walking between my heels like my sheepdog, Frank. ‘You’re a genius.’

‘Not really,’ I said modestly, stopping to look around in the passenger car. No sign of Potter, nor of Audra Edmonds and Danny, but Prudence and Grace were sitting in adjacent seats, talking to Markus. Fred, the table-dancing behemoth, was nearby, as was Harvey/Hardman in his checkered sports jacket. All five of them had hunks of cake in their hands and a trail of crumbs leading from the dining car and ending in their respective laps.