The sun was nearly straight-up noon. The sheriff and Boyce had been gone for four hours, and it could be many more before they returned. In fact, they’d told us to wait a full twenty-four before even sending out another scouting party. I wasn’t sure I could stand by and do nothing for that long.
Turning back to the train, I stood on my tiptoes to reach the top of the vertical grab bar next to the door. Running my hand along the bar, I knew I was searching for some kind of confirmation.
If Potter had been stabbed outside the train after we’d stopped, his assailant would have gotten gunk on the railing or outside door handle as he – or, more and more likely, she – had swung back in. And then again on the inside door handle, where I’d already found it, when the killer closed the door.
But … nothing. No stickiness on the grab bar or on the outside door handle, which I checked next. I supposed the driving rain could have—
A shadow shifted on the opposite bank, just twenty feet away.
‘Alligator,’ I said out loud, if in a slightly ragged tone.
‘Oh, dear.’
THIRTY-TWO
Missy’s voice had come from behind me.
I turned. The girl must have circled the end of the sleeping car and was standing about as far away from my position as the shadow had been across the water in the other direction.
‘You scared me,’ I said for the second time that day.
‘Sorry, Maggy. We’re all going stir crazy in there, so I thought I’d come out for a stroll in what passes for fresh air this time of day.’
Missy was right about the ‘passes’ part. You could nearly see the steam rising off the plants in the midday sun.
‘Is it safe to be wandering?’ I glanced toward the alligator. Or the void where it had been. Suddenly an alligator you couldn’t see was worse than one you could.
‘Don’t worry.’ Missy lifted up a revolver with a short but stout barrel, her hand holding the ‘right’ end. ‘I have a gun.’
Oh, I was worried, all right. Mostly because I did not have one. I’d left the semi-automatic Pavlik had given me on the floor of the train when I’d jumped down, thinking I’d quickly finish what I needed to do and be back inside. Like they say, though – the first step was a doozy.
And so here I was.
Missy raised the muzzle of her gun on a line with my belly button, then stepped toward me. ‘What were you doing?’
‘What do you mean?’ I was trying to keep my voice casual.
‘You were polishing that railing or whatever it is. Did you find something wrong?’
‘Nope,’ I said. ‘I’m just a little ditzy. I fell asleep reading a passage on the device you so kindly loaned to me, and I had a dream about snakes. I came out here to reassure myself that none were poking around the train and, umm … dried off the rail so I wouldn’t slip getting back in.’
It was a little weak, but then so was I at the moment.
‘Oh, were you reading Breaking and Entering? I’m surprised you got to the snake part so fast. Were you skipping ahead?’ Missy looked so proud I decided to go with it.
‘Couldn’t resist. I also noticed the use of your catchphrase. That was so nice.’
Her face darkened. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The “oh, dear.” You say it all the time. I thought it was a great compliment to you that Rosemary had Kat using it.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Missy said, lowering the gun’s muzzle. ‘That was nice. Sort of a … a—’
‘Tribute,’ I finished for her. It was apparent to me that Missy hadn’t even realized until this moment that, as a writer, she’d given her main character her own subliminal signature. ‘In gratitude for all the hard work you did, researching and all.’
‘Yes.’ Missy tried to smile. ‘That was … nice.’
Allrighty then. ‘Well, I’d better get to my post. Good talking to you.’
‘You, too.’
As I grabbed the bar to pull myself up, I heard the sounds of Missy starting to move away, the staccato of the glittery heels on the gravel, the swish of the evening gown in the abominable humidity. Then stillness.
‘You know.’
I debated whether I should continue my swing up onto the train and slam the door closed.
In that second of deliberation, I lost that option.
When I looked back, Missy was still there, gun levelled at my waist. ‘I said you know, don’t you?’
I let go of the bar and dropped back down to the railroad bed. ‘I don’t know anything, Missy.’
She smiled, but unhappily. ‘No, I’m the one who doesn’t know anything. Not even what I put in my own book. Or Rosemary’s, I should say.’