Murder on the Orient Espresso(39)

I looked at the guy next to me, who happened to be Boyce. ‘I suppose that could be what happened.’

‘We’ll find out.’ He gestured toward the direction Pavlik had disappeared. ‘We’re lucky to have some law enforcement with us, regardless.’

‘Amen,’ I said. ‘Usually I have to deal with these things myself. Until the police or sheriff’s department arrives, of course.’

Boyce shook his head. ‘So you’ve been in a lot of train derailments, too?’

I felt myself blush. ‘No, not really. Just the other … emergencies.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Boyce glanced at Pete and apparently decided not to pursue the subject. At least for the time being. ‘Is everyone up front safe?’

‘So far as we can tell.’ In truth, everyone I’d seen was all right. I couldn’t be certain that all of the passengers were accounted for. Maybe it would make sense to take a roll call just to be sure.

‘Pavlik is going to check on the engineer,’ I continued. Then I frowned.

‘What’s wrong?’ Boyce asked. ‘I mean, beyond the obvious.’

‘According to Missy,’ I was already heading for the vestibule, ‘there’s no inner connection between the locomotive and the passenger cars. The sheriff is going to have to go outside.’

‘Do you want—’

I didn’t wait to hear the rest, letting the connecting door close behind me.

The dining car was empty, the rest of the group still congregated in the passenger car, chattering. Pavlik must have been delayed by further questions, because I was just in time to see him slip into the vestibule beyond.

Before I could catch up, he’d slid open the exit door and disappeared.





FIFTEEN





‘Wait!’

Pavlik was standing on the gravel bed beneath and sloping away from the tracks. ‘What?’

The bed was narrow, but it was there, which was a relief. I’d imagined we were traveling on some sort of elevated trestle like that in the photograph of Flagler’s ill-fated railroad. In actuality, though, our tracks were mere inches above the swamp.

This was good news because we needn’t fear falling. Bad, because we were within serving distance of whatever creatures were making dinner plans.

At least, though, I thought as I jumped down after Pavlik, the warm rain had slackened to a steamy sprinkle. ‘Do you have your knife or, even better, your gun?’

‘Knife, yes. Gun, no. Why?’

‘There are alligators and pythons and, umm … lions.’

‘Lions?’ Pavlik looked skeptical.

‘I may have that part wrong.’ I was frowning again. ‘But definitely the rest.’

‘Well, then, stay close.’ Pavlik was walking along the outside of the sleeping car toward the locomotive. ‘That way, if something drags me away, you can properly identify it for the local authorities.’

I scurried along behind. ‘Is it my imagination, or is that pitched down?’

‘You mean the front of the locomotive? Sure looks like it to me, too.’ He grasped a vertical bar and swung himself up and into the already open door of the engine car.

‘You know,’ I called up, ‘there are emergency cords in every car that can stop the train, if they’re pulled. Maybe that’s what happened.’

‘I noticed the cords,’ the sheriff’s voice came from inside the cab.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. The man was aware of everything. And revealed nothing, damn it.

A hoarse sqwaaak pierced the air and hung there, followed by a series of raspy wok, wok, woks.

‘Shit!’ I edged closer to the train. ‘It’s like we’re in a Tarzan movie.’

‘Funny you should say that.’ His head appeared. ‘Apparently at least a couple of Johnny Weissmuller’s Tarzan movies of the thirties and forties were filmed somewhere in Florida. Legend has it that some of the rhesus monkeys used in the movies escaped. Supposedly it’s their descendants that run wild here today.’ Pavlik jumped down from the cab. ‘Cool, huh?’

Well, I certainly had goose bumps, if that confirmed his opinion.

The big front headlight of the train illuminated the Everglades in front of us, which was a good way to capture a black hole of nothingness. Oh, I could see water, scrub grass – sawgrass, presumably – and some sort of foliage, but nothing else except low, shapeless shadows as far as the light could pierce the gloom.

‘Holy mother of God,’ a male voice said.

Startled, I saw the figure of a man standing next to the nose of the locomotive. I didn’t remember noticing him earlier.

‘Oh, dear,’ I said, sounding like Missy, even to my own ears.