Kristy and the Mystery Train

  Then my shoulder collided with — a wall?

  I rolled over and hauled myself to my knees, and the train slammed to a stop. This time I was thrown forward onto my stomach.

  “Oof,” I gasped, the wind knocked out of me.

  I lay there, taking slow deep breaths, and heard the intercom system crackle to life.

  “Attention. Attention, all passengers. We are sorry for the inconvenience. We have experienced a slight temporary mechanical difficulty. We will be moving shortly.”

  Oh, no, I thought, what now? I had an idea that the “temporary mechanical difficulty” was no accident. Aloud, I said, “I’d settle for some light.” Carefully, I rolled over and rose, unsteadily, to my feet.

  The lights came on. I found I was at the far end of the sleeping car.

  I staggered back to check on the boys. I started with Derek’s compartment.

  Naturally, they were awake and thought the whole thing had been totally cool. “My suitcase went sliding right across the floor!” announced Nicky happily.

  “That’s great,” I said ironically.

  “Totally excellent,” agreed Greg.

  “Well, stay put,” I said. “It’s getting late and we have a big day tomorrow.”

  Things were pretty much the same in David Michael’s compartment. I went to look in on the little guys.

  Todd and Daniel were in their pajamas, sitting cross-legged on Daniel’s bed. They, too, seemed to think the incident had been an outstanding special effect. “We were playing pickup sticks,” said Todd, “and they went everywhere. So now we’re playing pickup sticks on the floor. Are you going to read to us?”

  “No, not right now,” I said. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be asleep?”

  “Abby said she’d come back and read to us before we went to sleep,” Daniel said indignantly.

  “Oh. Okay. She’ll be here soon, then,” I said. “In fact, I’m on my way to find her now.”

  Feeling bruised and battered and more than a little worried, I stepped back out into the corridor. It was empty. But something about that very emptiness made me uneasy.

  Impulsively, I stuck my head back into Daniel’s compartment. “Stay here,” I ordered. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  Daniel gave me another indignant look. “We’re not babies.”

  “Right,” I said.

  I repeated my warning in the two compartments that Derek and the others were staying in. They were unimpressed by it, too.

  “Kristy’s kind of bossy sometimes,” I heard David Michael explain as I left.

  Most of the passengers on the train were now in the stage car, I discovered, watching the reenactment of one of Ben and Elle’s scenes. Things had reached a very dramatic point, so nobody noticed when I slipped in behind Stacey and Abby and leaned over to whisper in Stacey’s ear. Stacey touched Abby’s arm and they tiptoed out to join me in the dim corridor that led to the stage car.

  Abby checked her watch and said, “Uh-oh. I promised Todd and Daniel I’d read them a bedtime story. I told them they didn’t have to go to sleep until I did.”

  “Wait,” I started to say. But at that instant a man with a mustache brushed by us, leaving the stage car. It looked as if the mustache was coming off. One of the actors in a bit part, I thought vaguely. The lurching of the train probably hadn’t made it easy for him to apply his stage makeup.

  “Catch you in a few,” Abby said and hurried away before I could stop her.

  “Kristy, what is it?” Stacey asked.

  “I’ve solved the mystery, or at least part of it,” I answered. I held up the scrap of script over which I’d been brooding. “Similar dialogue but different names, right? It’s not a fake — it’s a draft. The script was rewritten at least once. Remember, the other scripts were labeled ‘Final.’ That implies rewrites.”

  Stacey nodded vigorously. “Yes! And who would be carrying a first draft around? Someone like the screenwriter.”

  “Ronald Pierce,” I said. “And on the night of the accident, he said he was going to an interview. But I saw Jane Atlantic’s schedule. She didn’t have an interview scheduled then, and she was the only reporter on the train.”

  “You’re right,” said Stacey. “And remember who Derek had an interview with this afternoon?”

  “The reporter from Screen Team. And that’s who Mr. Pierce claimed he was meeting. But the guy didn’t even board the train until today!”

  “So Ronald Pierce lied to us. Why?” mused Stacey. “Because he had something to hide. Like maybe a secret meeting on the observation deck.”

  “Now we just need to find out who he was meeting, and we’ll know who he pushed overboard.” A sudden chill ran down my spine. I’d just called Daniel’s father a murderer.

  “We have to tell someone now.” Stacey’s urgent voice interrupted my thoughts.

  She was right. But … Ronald Pierce? He was weird, but then a lot of writers were probably weird. He had lied to us, but being a writer, being weird, even being a liar still didn’t add up to being a murderer.

  Did it?

  “They’re all in here. Come on,” said Stacey.

  Almost reluctantly, I followed her back into the stage car.

  And stopped as the door closed behind me and my lungs filled with thick, black smoke.

  “Kristy!” Stacey shouted.

  “Right behind you,” I said with a gasp. I located her dimly outlined form and grabbed a handful of her shirt.

  People were screaming. Smoke billowed through the air. Fortunately, the lights hadn’t gone out.

  Keeping a firm hold on Stacey’s shirt, I stepped back, opened the door, and propped it open.

  “Stay calm, please. Everybody stay where you are and stay calm,” I heard Mr. Masters call. “It’s not a fire.”

  And even as he spoke, I could see that the smoke was lessening.

  “Clear the vents,” I heard someone else say.

  Gradually, the smoke cleared. Through stinging eyes I saw people milling around.

  A man I recognized as the physician’s assistant on the train crew moved among the crowd, checking to make sure everyone was all right.

  Mr. Masters was bending over one of the vents with Elle, while Benjamin and Mr. Harding pried at another one. Elle straightened up and said in a disgusted voice, “I thought so. Basic special effects. A smoke bomb set on a timer in the vent.”

  “Don’t touch it,” said Mr. Masters. “Maybe we can have it checked for fingerprints.” His voice was grim and furious. “I don’t know who is trying to sabotage this movie or why, but I’m going to find out.”

  I knew that had to be our big cue. I pulled Stacey forward from where we’d been standing in the doorway, taking big gulps of sweet, fresh air. “Mr. Masters,” I said.

  He turned.

  Then someone screamed, “Oh, no! Look! The windows!”

  That’s when I saw it. The windows of the stage car were covered with ugly red letters, the same words over and over.

  THE TRUTH WILL COME OUT! YOU CAN’T STOP ME! SAY GOOD-BYE TO WHAT YOU LOVE MOST!

  “What does that mean?” said Jane Atlantic.

  I thought I knew. I hoped I was wrong. I scanned the room, looking for Ronald Pierce. At last I located him. He was slumped in a chair, his head in his hands.

  Stacey and I charged across the room, ignoring the babble of voices. “Mr. Pierce,” I said in a low, urgent tone. “Mr. Pierce, we have to talk.”

  Mr. Pierce raised his head. His square glasses were smudged and his ruddy complexion was pale. He looked frightened and confused.

  “Mr. Pierce,” I said, my voice rising. “You have to tell us what is going on.”

  Heads turned. The babble of voices quieted. Stacey, Mr. Pierce, and I were suddenly center stage. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would jump through my chest, but I knew that in front of all these witnesses, Mr. Pierce couldn’t hurt us even if he was a murderer.

  “Mr. Pierce,” I said more loudly still, “WHAT IS GO
ING ON?”

  He leaped to his feet. I choked down a scream and backed into Stacey as he grabbed my arm.

  “Let her go!” cried Stacey, grabbing my other arm and pulling hard.

  “No! No, you don’t understand,” said Mr. Pierce. He was so pale now that I thought he was going to faint. But his grip on my arm was insanely strong.

  Insanely.

  “Please let go of my arm,” I said, trying to be polite to a possible maniac.

  “It’s Daniel,” cried Mr. Pierce. “Oh, my lord, it’s Daniel. He’s going after Daniel. That’s what he means by what I love most! I know it.”

  My knees grew weak and I was actually glad that two people were holding my arms in a death grip. Otherwise, I might have done something to embarrass myself, such as fall.

  Then a surge of adrenaline pumped through me and I pulled my arm free of Mr. Pierce’s. I turned.

  “Wait!” he shrieked. “Stop! Where are you going?”

  I didn’t stop. There was no time to ask who “he” was. I began to run, pushing people out of my way, knocking over chairs, with Stacey right behind me.

  “WAIT!” screamed Mr. Pierce. “Where are you going?”

  “To find Daniel,” I called over my shoulder as I ran to save Daniel’s life.

  The train kept moving, swaying from side to side like a cradle, as if nothing could possibly be wrong.

  “Abby,” I panted. “She doesn’t know.”

  “They’ll be safe with Abby,” I heard Stacey answer as she ran behind me. We raced on. We burst into the sleeping car and threw open the door of Daniel’s compartment.

  Abby looked up from the pickup sticks she’d been putting back into their box. “Hi! You won’t believe what Todd and Daniel talked me into. A little game of hide-and-seek. Want to help me? … Kristy! Stacey! What’s wrong?!”

  Abby jumped up.

  My mouth had gone dry. “We have to find them. Now! They’re in terrible danger,” I managed to say.

  Mr. Pierce charged into the room, practically knocking me over. “Where is he?” he demanded hoarsely. “Where’s Daniel?”

  Abby didn’t waste any time asking questions. “We’ll find him,” she said. “They can’t have gone far.”

  Mr. Masters said, “We’ll split up. That will make it faster.”

  Abby and Stacey hurried away to search. I went with Mr. Pierce. “Daniel!” I called. “Todd! Game’s over! Come on out!”

  “Daniel,” shouted Mr. Pierce. “Daniel!”

  “Try to sound calm,” I told him. “Otherwise, you could scare him.”

  Mr. Pierce licked his lips. “You’re right. Oh, this is all my fault. If only I hadn’t … if only …”

  “If only what?” I prompted as we yanked open bathroom and closet doors, looked under beds and behind suitcases.

  “I based the idea for this screenplay on one submitted to me by a student years ago. Laurence Channing…. Daniel! Daniel, it’s your dad. Come on out, son, so I can play, too. Daniel!”

  We waited a moment, but no Daniel or Todd answered.

  “Laurence Channing,” I prompted, leaning over to look into a garbage receptacle.

  “Laurence was furious when he found out. He wanted full credit for the screenplay I wrote. Of course, that was out of the question. Technically, I’d done nothing wrong …”

  A technicality that might cost Daniel his life, I thought grimly, but I didn’t say anything.

  “Still, I paid him. And after I paid him the first time, he used it to blackmail me into paying him more. But even that wasn’t enough. He began to make threats. He accused me of being in a conspiracy with everyone on the film to deprive him of the fame and money he deserved.

  “I suspected he was behind the sabotage the moment it started. And I knew he was when I met him on the observation deck that night.”

  “So you pushed him from the train?” said Mr. Masters, who had come up behind us.

  “No! No, it was a setup, don’t you see? He’d planned it all to make me look like a murderer. But the only witnesses were two kids whom —”

  “— nobody believed,” finished Mr. Masters. He bent to look behind a suitcase and froze. “Todd?” he whispered.

  “Rats,” said Todd, uncurling. “You found me.” Mr. Masters grabbed Todd so hard that Todd squeaked, “Ow, Dad.”

  “Sorry, son,” said Mr. Masters. But he didn’t let go of Todd’s hand as we continued to search.

  I suddenly remembered the note to Jane Atlantic. She’d missed her entrance cue and ruined Laurence Channing’s plans.

  “He went into the water — and must have climbed back on board at the next stop. He must have had a car waiting.”

  “Daniel’s not in this sleeping car,” I announced. I reached for the door of the next one. We’d just stepped into it when Stacey and Abby entered the car from the other end. Abby pumped one fist in the air and stepped to one side to reveal …

  “Daniel,” cried Mr. Pierce in a ragged voice. “Son!”

  “Hi, Daddy!” said Daniel. He started to run toward his father.

  At the same moment, someone swooped out of one of the compartments.

  In the fraction of a second before I launched myself forward, I saw blazing eyes and a mustache that was coming unglued.

  The train rocked sideways and Channing was thrown off balance. I grabbed Daniel and rolled into one of the compartments. “Run!” I shouted to the others. “Run!”

  I tried to slam the door of the compartment. Channing jammed his foot into the doorway. I stomped down hard and heard a howl of rage. I felt the door slipping from my fingers.

  “Go into the bathroom and close the door,” I said over my shoulder to Daniel. “Lock it.”

  “K-Kristy?” said Daniel.

  “NOW!” I shouted.

  He went. As the door slipped from my grasp, I heard the bathroom door close and lock.

  Then Channing stood in front of me. He stepped forward, and I kicked him in the knee as hard as I could.

  At the same moment, Ronald Pierce hit him from one side, knocking him to the floor of the corridor. I saw, or thought I saw, Abby and Stacey pile on.

  Then I slammed the door of the compartment, locked it, and put my back against it. From outside I heard shouts and running footsteps.

  Then silence.

  Someone knocked on the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “Kristy?” said Abby’s voice. “You can come out now.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It’s okay, Kristy,” said Mr. Masters. “We have him.”

  I heard someone making a snarling sound, like an animal.

  Slowly I slid the door back.

  Two conductors were lifting the struggling Channing from the floor. His arms had been tied behind his back with what looked like a pair of pants.

  He raised his head and saw me standing in the door. “You,” he snarled. “If it hadn’t been for you, I would have had justice.”

  “I wish I had pushed you off the train,” said Mr. Pierce.

  “You don’t have the guts. I did it. I planned it all myself! Me! I’m the genius, not you.”

  They dragged him away. He was still screaming threats when the door closed behind him.

  “Daniel’s in the bathroom,” I told Mr. Pierce.

  He walked to the door. “Son,” he said, “you can come out now.”

  The door opened and Daniel jumped out and threw his arms around his father’s neck.

  “Charleston is hot!” complained Abby, fanning her face.

  “But you have to admit, it’s a cool-looking little town,” said Stacey.

  Abby and I burst out laughing. When Stacey looked puzzled, I said, “You thought Boston was a cute little town, too.”

  Stacey grinned.

  We’d made it safely to Charleston. And in spite of all the delays — including an unplanned stop to deliver Laurence Channing into the arms of the police — we were almost on time. By noon we’d checked into our plush bed
-and-breakfast inn overlooking the harbor. By one o’clock we were sitting in a horse-drawn carriage with Derek and his friends, taking a tour of one of the prettiest towns I had ever seen.

  Todd was with us. Daniel was with Mr. Pierce. I wondered if he would ever let Daniel out of his sight again.

  “Charleston has been devastated by war, earthquake, flood, and hurricane,” said our guide. “Many feel the adversity has only enriched her and made her more beautiful.”

  Did adversity enrich a person and make her more beautiful? Hmmm. I’d have to think about that. If it did, the events of the last few days meant I was going to be majorly enriched and drop-dead gorgeous.

  That made me laugh. As if I were some no-brainer who thought looks were the only thing that mattered.

  * * *

  I should have been tired, but I wasn’t. When we sent the boys to rest before getting ready for the premiere, I discovered that Stacey and Abby felt the same way. We headed for the front porch of the inn, which had a beautiful view of the water. Abby and I settled down to bounce gently on the long plank seat called a joggling board, while Stacey rocked to and fro in the swing. We didn’t talk much. When we did, it was, of course, about the events aboard the Mystery Train.

  “He never confessed to what he’d done,” said Abby.

  I knew she was talking about Mr. Pierce. “When he told me, Mr. Masters heard him,” I said. “He’ll take care of it.”

  As if in answer to his name, Mr. Masters came out onto the porch.

  “I just wanted to thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry I ever doubted your word. What you did was incredibly brave, all of you, and especially you, Kristy.”

  “Hey, it’s all in a day’s work for the Baby-sitters Club,” I said, embarrassed.

  Mr. Masters smiled. “Maybe.”

  “What’s going to happen to Mr. Channing?” asked Abby.

  “And Mr. Pierce?” added Stacey.

  “Mr. Channing has made a full confession. He knew more than enough about special effects and makeup to disguise himself and sneak on board the train. He’d traveled the route dozens of times before in recent months, always in disguise so no one would recognize him. But the police have found ticket stubs, among other things, in his apartment.