Strangers on a Train

  “Agreed.” George frowned. “Although I’m starting to wonder whether this jewelry robbery business is even worth stressing over. I mean, the cops are already on the case, right? They’re way better equipped to handle this kind of investigation—you know, the kind with real criminals. Possibly dangerous criminals.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” I said. “But if there’s someone on the ship involved—”

  “Then the cops will figure it out.” George shrugged. “That’s their job. Besides, it was probably that busboy we saw get fired earlier. So we could be doing all this investigating and sneaking around for nothing.”

  “Maybe.” I wasn’t quite as convinced as she seemed to be. After all, neither the busboy nor his boss had mentioned anything about the robbery—just the illegal drugs. “But even if that busboy is the robber’s accomplice, we still don’t know who left me that threatening note. That couldn’t have been the busboy—he’d never even laid eyes on me at that point.”

  “How do you know the busboy didn’t leave the note?” George countered, tapping her foot against the seat in front of us. “You’re famous, you know. Sort of, anyway.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at her. “How do you figure?”

  “How many times have you been written up in the papers back home in River Heights for solving mysteries big and small?” George said. “All those stories end up on the newspapers’ websites, you know. For all the world to see with a quick web search. So maybe your rep as the Sherlockina Holmes of the Midwest preceded you, and that busboy thought you were coming to Alaska to investigate him. He might have been trying to scare you off before you got started.”

  “Sounds a little far-fetched, but I suppose anything’s possible.” I shook my head. “Until we know for sure, we’ve got to keep our eyes open. I mean, I know we thought the case was closed when we caught Vince and Lacey.”

  “But they swore they didn’t do some of the bad stuff,” George said with a nod. “Like pushing you off that walkway in Ketchikan, and the moose antler thing, and some of the problems Becca told us about from before the cruise started.”

  “Yeah. A few of those incidents could’ve been accidents or red herrings,” I said. “Maybe somebody just bumped me innocently on that narrow walkway, and I lost my balance. And maybe there was an oversight and the screws on that moose antler never got tightened properly, so it fell when Bess and Alan leaned on it.”

  “And maybe the pre-cruise problems were just bad luck or human error or whatever,” George went on.

  “Right. But someone left that note in my suitcase. And if that same someone might possibly have been the one who pushed me over the railing back in ­Ketchikan, I need to figure out who it is before something even worse happens. If it turns out that busboy was behind it all like you said, cool. All we’ve lost is some time and energy we could’ve used for sightseeing today.” I shrugged. “If not? Then we’d better not waste an entire day looking at pretty scenery and shopping for souvenirs while the real culprit could be planning his or her next move.”

  George didn’t answer for a moment, instead clearing her throat loudly. Glancing up, I saw Hiro hurrying down the aisle. He spotted us, too, and smiled.

  “Having a nice time?” he asked, pausing and leaning a hand on the back of our seat. “The scenery is spectacular out here, isn’t it? I thought I’d miss the warm blue waters of the Caribbean when I left Jubilee to take this job. But it’s been great to see a new part of the world.”

  “You worked for Jubilee before?” I was surprised, though I wasn’t sure why. The cruise industry was really pretty small, and Jubilee Cruise Lines was one of its largest players. A lot of the Arctic Star’s crew, including Becca, had worked for Jubilee before being lured away by Superstar Cruises.

  Hiro nodded. “I was assistant cruise director on one of the ships,” he said. “It was a great job, but when I heard Superstar had a spot open for kiddie coordinator, I jumped at it. I love working with kids.” He checked his watch. “Speaking of which, I’d better scoot. Got a bunch of the little rascals waiting for me right now. Enjoy the rest of the ride, ladies.”

  “Thanks,” George and I chorused as he hurried off.

  “That’s weird,” George said once he was gone.

  “What?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Becca’s the assistant cruise director on our ship, right? And I thought you said she was Hiro’s boss. So it sounds like he took a demotion to take this job. Why would someone do that? Especially since it sounds like he was skeptical about leaving the Caribbean to come to Alaska?”

  “Good question. But I’m not totally sure Becca is actually his boss,” I said. “I’ll text her right now and ask.”

  I pulled out my phone and started tapping out a quick text. “Cool, your phone’s working again,” George said, peering over my shoulder.

  “Uh-huh.” My phone had gone dead—or at least temporarily unconscious—after my unplanned dip in the cold waters beneath that walkway in Ketchikan. “After it dried out, it was fine.”

  “So are you going to ask Becca about Scott, too?” George asked.

  “I think I’ll wait and ask her about that in person.” I tucked the phone away. “Seems too complicated to do via text. Anyway, I guess this means Hiro’s still on the suspect list?”

  “Definitely,” George said. “He was around when the moose antler crashed. And you said Becca acted weird when you asked about him that time—maybe she’s suspicious of him too.”

  “Maybe.” I thought about that conversation. As soon as I’d mentioned Hiro’s name, Becca had rushed off, claiming she needed to be somewhere. “But if she thinks we should investigate him, why wouldn’t she just say so?”

  “Got me.” George shrugged. “Anyway, we already know Scott’s on the list now too. Who else?”

  I thought about our previous suspect list. “Well, there’s Wendy.”

  “Wendy the Wacko?” George nodded. “Yeah, she’s too weird not to keep on the list, I guess. But actually, I’m thinking it’s more likely to be a crew member than a passenger. Like Scott or Hiro. Or maybe Tatjana—we were suspicious of her before, right? I mean, how would someone like Wendy sneak around the ship causing trouble? She doesn’t exactly blend into the background.”

  “True. But Wendy still has a decent motive,” I said. “She really wants her blog to be a success. What better way than making sure this cruise is one everybody wants to read about, even if it’s a crime she’s writing about?” I remembered one more suspect we hadn’t discussed yet. “And let’s not forget Fred.”

  “Fred? Who’s Fred?”

  “Mr. Hawaiian Shirt,” I said. “I forgot to tell you, he turned up right after the busboy got fired and started trying to get involved.”

  “Weird. The guy acts like he’d rather be working on the ship than traveling on it,” George said. “Pretty sure I’ve seen him in the kitchen more often than I’ve seen him at the pool.”

  “Yeah.” I didn’t say anything else, mostly because about a dozen redheads were pouring into the train car. They were all chatting and laughing, and several of them were clutching cameras. They rushed over to the other family reunion members, overflowing into the seats near ours.

  One of them, a twentyish young woman with an auburn ponytail, glanced at George and me with a smile. “Hi! You’re from our ship, right?” she said. “Isn’t this fun?”

  “Yeah, it’s great,” George said.

  Obviously we’d lost our quiet conversation spot. Probably just as well—if George and I stayed away too long, Alan might get suspicious. Especially if he’d heard even a little of my conversation with Becca earlier. He might be clueless, but he wasn’t stupid. I didn’t want to give him any excuse to figure out what was going on behind his back. I sure didn’t want to risk blowing my cover—for Becca’s sake and the safety of the ship’s passengers.

  I stood up, returning the redh
ead’s smile. “Sorry, I think we took your seats,” I told her. “We’d better go find our friends now. See you back on the ship.”

  “Wait up a sec, guys,” George said. “I have to tie my shoe.”

  “Hurry up,” Alan told her as he, Bess, and I stopped. “Scott said we’re running late, and I don’t want to miss my chance to make my fortune.”

  Bess grinned, squeezing his hand. “Don’t get your hopes up, sweetie,” she said. “This gold-panning place is just a tourist spot right here in town. It’s not exactly breaking new ground in the next gold rush.”

  George glanced up from fiddling with the laces of her sneakers. “Still, gold’s gold,” she said. “Scott said this place guarantees we’ll each get to find some real gold in our pans.”

  “Yeah. Like three granules of gold dust, probably,” Bess said.

  As they continued squabbling amiably, I glanced forward. We were at the tail end of the large group of Arctic Star passengers making its way from the train station to the next activity in Skagway. Scott was at the front, leading the way.

  My gaze lingered on him. He was back in professional mode, smiling and helpful, with no hint of the terrifying anger I’d seen. Could George be right? Had my exhaustion—not to mention my obsession with this case—made me see something that wasn’t there?

  I forgot about that as the crowd shifted and I spotted another familiar figure. It was Fred. He wasn’t part of the group heading to the gold-panning place—instead he was scurrying along the sidewalk across the way with his hands in his pockets and his head tucked down between his shoulders. Almost as if he didn’t want to be seen. Interesting.

  George finally finished tying her shoe. “Come on, let’s hurry,” she said. “I want to make sure I get the best gold-panning spot.”

  “You guys go ahead,” I said. “I, um, need to find a restroom. I’ll meet up with you in a minute.”

  “You sure?” Alan said teasingly. “Don’t expect us not to steal your gold if you take too long, Nancy!”

  I forced a smile, trying to keep Fred in view out of the corner of my eye. “I’ll have to take my chances. See you in a bit.”

  By the time I pushed my way through the eager, gold-crazed crowd around me, Fred had disappeared. I hurried off in the direction I’d last seen him going. Whew! I spotted him again as soon as I rounded the next corner. He was just a few yards ahead of me, moving fast.

  I fell into step behind him, doing my best to keep a few people between us. Good thing. Halfway down the block, Fred stopped abruptly, then turned and peered behind him. Oops.

  Luckily, he didn’t seem to see me. But it reminded me to be careful.

  I continued to tail him. It wasn’t easy. He stopped and stared around suspiciously every few moments. What was he doing?

  Finally he ducked into a large souvenir shop. I waited a moment, allowing a few other people to pass before stepping inside myself.

  The place was cavernous and crowded, packed with tourists pawing through tables overflowing with T-shirts, key chains, stuffed animals, and every other imaginable form of souvenir knickknack.

  But where was Fred? I glanced around but couldn’t see him anywhere. Outside, his brightly colored Hawaiian shirt had made him easy to spot. In here, surrounded by every flavor of colorful tchotchke? Not so much.

  I moved deeper into the store, dodging a sticky-looking little girl cooing at a stuffed arctic fox and several loud, excited women with Boston accents exclaiming over some salmon jerky. Still no sign of my quarry.

  Then I spotted a flash of orange and red toward the back of the store near an oversize stuffed grizzly bear wearing a Skagway souvenir hat and an apron emblazoned with the Alaskan flag. Hurrying closer, I finally spotted Fred.

  He was huddled behind the bear, deep in conversation with Sanchez, the fired busboy!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Unpleasant Surprises

  MY HEART POUNDED AS I CREPT CLOSER to the stuffed bear. Fred appeared to be doing most of the talking. But he was keeping his voice too low for me to hear what he was saying.

  “Nancy! Hey, Nancy! Over here!” a voice yelled loudly, cutting through the din of the souvenir shop.

  I glanced back over my shoulder, wincing. It was Wendy the blogger. She was rushing toward me, clutching her laptop under one arm as she used the other to wave vigorously at me.

  Biting back a groan of dismay, I quickly turned toward Fred and the busboy. But they were gone.

  By then Wendy had reached me. “Hey, girl,” she said breathlessly. “What’s up? Shopping for some new shades?” She grinned.

  “Huh?” Glancing down at the nearest table, I realized it was filled with garish novelty sunglasses. “No, just looking around.” I sneaked another glance around the store, but Fred was nowhere in sight. Had he skedaddled when he’d heard Wendy’s bellowing and realized I was watching him? If so, what did that mean? Did he know I was investigating, or was he just trying not to let anyone see him talking to the fired busboy?

  “Cool.” Wendy grabbed a pair of moose-print socks off another table. “Wow, some of this stuff is tacky.”

  I wasn’t sure she had much room to talk, given her usual crazy thrift-shop style. But I was less concerned with her fashion choices than with her position on my suspect list. Deciding to try to salvage the situation with a little subtle interrogation, I gave her a friendly smile.

  “So what are you doing here?” I asked. “I thought everyone was still down the street learning to be gold panners.”

  “Oh.” Wendy tossed the socks back on the table. “Nah, I did a gold-panning thing like that in ­California once and it was kind of lame, so I decided to save my pennies this time.”

  “Oh?” Was it my imagination, or had she briefly grimaced when she’d said the part about saving her pennies?

  “Yeah. Figured I’d skip it and see if I could find something a little more interesting to share with my readers.”

  “So have you found anything yet?” I asked.

  She grinned, waggling a finger in my face. “­Nuh-uh, not telling!” she singsonged. “You’ll just have to check out my blog to find out.”

  “Guess I’ll have to do that,” I said politely.

  “Really?” she said eagerly. “Cool! Tell all your friends to go there too, okay? Because so far, this trip isn’t exactly driving zillions of hits to the blog. I knew I should’ve done the Elvis pilgrimage to Graceland this time instead.”

  Interesting. So her blog, Wendy’s Wanderings, wasn’t exactly setting the Internet on fire these days. Was that suspicious? I wasn’t sure, though I supposed it did make Wendy’s theoretical motive even stronger.

  Before I could come up with any more questions, Wendy’s eyes lit up. “Whoa, check that out!” she exclaimed, racing toward a nearby table full of earrings. I didn’t understand why she was so excited until I read the sign, which explained that the earrings were made of moose droppings. Wendy pulled a camera out of her pocket and snapped a few photos. “That’s so going on the blog,” she murmured gleefully.

  As she started digging through the earrings, I decided to take the opportunity to exit stage right. “See you later,” I said, hurrying off before she could answer.

  Once I was back out on the street, I texted Becca to see if she was available to meet with me. She texted back almost immediately, saying she was free for a few minutes if I could meet her back on the ship.

  Soon I was hurrying into a snack bar on one of the Arctic Star’s middle decks. Becca was sitting at a table with her laptop open in front of her. She glanced up when I came in and waved me over. A handsome young man was bustling around behind the counter, but otherwise the place was a ghost town. Actually, the whole ship was all but deserted. Other than the employees who’d swiped my ID and checked me in, the
only person I’d seen since boarding was a maid vacuuming one of the hallways.

  “Hi,” I said, sitting down across from Becca. “You know, this ship is kind of creepy when it’s empty.” My words echoed in the almost deserted snack bar.

  “I know what you mean. The ship feels different without passengers. Kind of peaceful, and yes, maybe a little creepy.” Becca snapped her laptop shut.

  Meanwhile, the young bartender had just come around from behind the counter. He was carrying a pair of tall, frosty glasses of iced tea.

  “There you go, ladies,” he said, setting the drinks down in front of us. “Anything else?”

  “Thanks, Omar.” Becca smiled at him. “And yes, actually, could you do me a favor? Marcelo’s up in his office, and I know he’d love a cup of coffee. Would you mind bringing him one?”

  “Sure thing.”

  As the young man hurried out, coffee cup in hand, Becca winked at me. “Okay, now we can talk freely. At least until he gets back.”

  I grinned. “Nicely done. I didn’t realize you had such a talent for misdirection and deception. Have you ever considered leaving the cruise industry and going into undercover work?”

  Becca chuckled, but soon her face went serious again. “So what did you want to talk about, Nancy? Are we any closer to figuring out who helped that robber get onboard?”

  “I don’t know.” I took a sip of my iced tea. “But I have a question for you. What do you know about the busboy who got fired this morning?”

  “John Sanchez?” Becca nodded. “How did you know about that?”

  I explained about the scene I’d witnessed on the dock. “So now I’m wondering if there’s a connection,” I finished.

  Becca shook her head. “That wasn’t very professional,” she said with a sigh. “Chuck must have been too upset to wait until they were back onboard. I know he thinks of his entire staff as family.”