Strangers on a Train, Page 2

  Instead I saw a heavyset man with a droopy mustache hurrying over. I didn’t know his name, but I’d seen him a few times on the ship. I assumed he was another passenger, since he always wore a Hawaiian shirt and shorts rather than a navy-and-silver uniform. But he seemed to spend a lot of time hanging around with the staff.

  Right now he was zeroing in on the busboy and his boss. “What’s going on over here?” he demanded as he rushed up to them. “Is there a problem?”

  The boss dropped his hold on the younger man’s arm. “It’s nothing to worry about, sir,” he said smoothly, though his brow was still creased in anger. “Please enjoy your day in Skagway.”

  Mr. Hawaiian Shirt ignored him, peering at the busboy’s anxious face. “You okay, son?” he said. “Because if there’s some sort of trouble, you’ve got to speak up for yourself.”

  The busboy’s face went red. He glanced from his boss to the other man. “It’s nothing,” he muttered.

  “That’s right,” his boss put in. “Thanks for your concern, sir. Now if you’ll excuse us—”

  I guess I was staring as all this went on. Because just then, the busboy turned and met my eye. He spun toward his boss.

  “It’s not right!” he said suddenly, his fists clutched at his sides. “I don’t know anything about any illegal drugs! Whoever said they found them in my locker is lying.”

  “Drugs?” Mr. Hawaiian Shirt barked out. “What’s this all about?”

  By now the raised voices were attracting attention, even on the busy Skagway dock. Some of the passengers who were disembarking nearby were looking over, and a moment later I saw the tall, broad-shouldered form of the Arctic Star’s captain striding in our direction.

  “What’s going on over here?” Captain Peterson asked. Glancing from the red-faced busboy to Mr. Hawaiian Shirt, he frowned. “Never mind, don’t tell me. Let’s take this back to the ship. Now.” He grabbed the boss by the elbow and the busboy by the shoulder, steering both men toward the gangplank.

  “Wait!” Mr. Hawaiian Shirt hurried after them. But he was cut off by a group of laughing redheaded children from the family reunion. By the time he dodged around them, the captain and the two employees had disappeared into the ship.

  I caught up to him by the foot of the gangplank. “Wow, what was that all about?” I asked in what I hoped was a friendly, casually curious tone. I stuck my hand out. “By the way, I’m Nancy. Nancy Drew. I’ve seen you around the ship, remember?”

  “Uh, sure.” The man glanced at me and shook my hand, though he looked distracted. “Nice to meet you. Fred Smith.”

  “So what do you think was going on with those two?” I said. “Can you believe that guy fired the busboy in front of everyone? Crazy, right?”

  “Just business as usual, I suppose. Excuse me.” Fred Smith pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. He hit a button and pressed the phone to his ear, turning away and disappearing into the crowd.

  Okay, so much for that. I looked around for my friends. They were a few yards down the dock, gathered around Scott, the shore excursion specialist.

  “Where’d you disappear to?” George asked when I joined them.

  “Nowhere. Remember that nice busboy with the dimples who cleaned up the drink Coral spilled last night?” I said. “I think he just got fired.”

  Scott glanced at me. “You talking about Sanchez?” he asked. “Yeah, just heard about that. Something about finding drugs in his locker.”

  “Really? Wow, crazy,” Alan commented.

  Scott shrugged. “It happens. Just an unfortunate side effect of dealing with a large crew of workers from all different backgrounds.” He grimaced slightly. “Some of them less, um, savory than others. Like Sanchez, for instance.” He cleared his throat and pasted a pleasant smile on his face, as if realizing he’d said too much. “In any case, I hope you won’t let this incident spoil your day here in Skagway.”

  “Don’t worry about that.” George glanced toward the town’s main street, which was lined with old-timey buildings. “This place looks pretty cool so far. Now, about that train ride . . .”

  The others went back to discussing the day’s activities. I was only half listening, though. Could the incident I’d just witnessed have anything to do with our case? That man, Fred Smith, had been one of our suspects the last time around. It was strange how he always seemed to be nearby whenever there was ­trouble. Did he need to go back on the list? Or could the busboy himself be the jewelry thief’s accomplice? Scott had all but come out and said the guy might have a questionable past.

  I chewed my lower lip, trying to figure out how all the clues might fit together. I wished I could question Scott about the busboy, since he seemed to know him. But I couldn’t, not with Alan standing right there. I didn’t want to raise his suspicions by seeming too interested in something like that—especially if he’d heard any of what Becca and I had been talking about earlier.

  Come to think of it, I wasn’t sure I wanted to raise Scott’s suspicions either. Becca and Captain Peterson were still the only two people on the ship who knew why my friends and I were really there. And I wanted to keep it that way. I’d already come close to blowing my cover with Scott back in Ketchikan. I’d seen him sneak out of a tourist show to meet with a seedy-looking guy with a big scar on his face. That had made me suspicious enough to tail him through town, but he’d caught me following him—right as he’d met up with another tough-looking man and handed over a wad of cash. He hadn’t been happy about seeing me, since he’d explained he was paying off some gambling debts, which could get him in trouble if the captain found out about them.

  I sighed, rubbing my face and stifling a yawn. I hadn’t had enough sleep last night, and it was making it hard to focus. Besides, there wasn’t much I could do to find out more about the firing right now. I’d just have to ask Becca about it later.

  “Smile!” Alan sang out, snapping another picture.

  I forced a smile. Bess, George, and I were posing in front of a big black-and-red train car on display in a little park. A sign explained that it was a rotary snowplow, built in 1899 to clear Alaska’s heavy snows off the tracks.

  After Alan took a couple of more photos, Bess checked her watch. “Hey, does anyone remember what time we need to be at the station for the scenic train ride?” she said. “Was it twelve or twelve thirty?”

  George gave her a strange look. No wonder. Bess has a memory like an elephant. She rarely forgets a name, a face, or anything else.

  But Alan lowered his camera. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe we’d better double-check.”

  “Thanks, sweetie.” Bess tilted her head and smiled up at him. “We’ll wait for you right here while you run over there.”

  Alan blinked. “Oh. Okay, I’ll be right back.”

  As he hurried off, Bess turned to me. “All right, Nancy,” she said briskly. “You’ve been walking around in a fog for the past hour. What are you thinking about?”

  I grinned weakly. “I’m that obvious?”

  “Oh, yeah.” George leaned back against the snowplow sign, watching as Tobias and his mother posed for a photo his father was taking. “So spill.”

  I glanced around to make sure nobody was close enough to hear us. The area was crowded with visitors, mostly passengers from our ship and the two others currently docked in Skagway. I wasn’t surprised that my friends had noticed I was a little distracted. My mind wouldn’t stop buzzing around the incident on the dock. Did it mean something? I couldn’t decide.

  “I was thinking about that busboy,” I said. “It’s probably not related to the case, but you never know, right?”

  “I guess.” Bess looked dubious.

  “How would something like that be related?” George asked, sounding even more doubtful.

  I frowned. “I don’t know, okay? I just want to make sure we don’t miss any clues, or—�
� I cut myself off with a yawn.

  “Sorry, are we keeping you up?” George said with a smirk.

  I almost snapped back at her, but I swallowed the retort. “Sorry. Guess I’m pretty tired. My wake-up call got messed up this morning, remember?”

  The suite where we were staying had its own butler, an enthusiastic, outgoing young man named Max. One of his duties was handling our daily wake-up calls, and that morning he’d entered my room at five a.m. on the dot.

  “I know I requested a seven thirty wake-up call,” I murmured, stifling another yawn.

  “Whatever, everyone makes mistakes.” George shrugged. “Max said it was just a text mix-up or something, right? And he apologized like crazy for, like, the entire morning.”

  Bess nodded. “I don’t know why you didn’t just go back to sleep, Nancy.”

  “I tried. But your boyfriend was snoring so loudly next door that I couldn’t.”

  “So that’s why you’re so cranky today,” George muttered.

  I shot her a look. “That, and I still can’t believe you knocked my bagel on the floor yesterday at breakfast.”

  George protested. “I told you that wasn’t my fault. Alan totally bumped into my arm!”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Bess put in. “It’s always Alan’s fault with you, isn’t it, George?”

  “Shh,” I said as I saw Alan hurrying toward them. “Speak of the devil . . .”

  That was the end of any private talk for the moment. We wandered around town, sightseeing and shopping for souvenirs and snacks, until it was time to head back to the station for our scenic train excursion.

  “Wow, this is cool,” Bess said as we entered the old-fashioned train car. “It’s like stepping back in time.”

  I nodded, though I wasn’t paying much attention. I’d spotted a couple of our fellow passengers from the Arctic Star in the car. One of them was young travel blogger Wendy Webster. As usual, she stood out in the crowd in her plaid skirt, tank top, and long scarf. She looked up from her laptop computer and spotted us.

  “Hey, guys!” she called, shoving her oversize black-framed glasses up her nose and waving. “Is this place epic or what?”

  “Sure, if you say so,” George said. “Totally epic.”

  Hearing shouts of laughter from the other end of the car, I glanced that way. Hiro was seated there, surrounded by about half a dozen kids from the Arctic Star, though I noticed Tobias wasn’t among them.

  “Dibs on the window seat.” George pushed past me and flopped into the seat. I sat down next to her, while Bess and Alan sat down in front of us.

  Soon the train was winding its way into the mountains. The scenery was so incredible that it actually woke me up a little. The train chugged along the tracks, which wound their way up steep inclines and across rusty iron bridges, all the while revealing stunning views of foothills blanketed with dense evergreen forests, rivers cutting through mountain passes, and distant peaks still dusted in snow even though it was summer.

  Eventually, though, my mind started to wander. I glanced ahead at Wendy, who was snapping photos and oohing and aahing along with everyone else. She’d been one of our original suspects too. That had made sense at the time. We’d thought she might be drumming up readers for her blog by creating weird happenings to write about.

  But now? Was she still a viable suspect? What would she have to gain by smuggling a jewelry thief onboard? Money, I supposed. Everyone liked money, right? Then again, by that logic, everyone could be a suspect. . . .

  I shook my head, which was feeling fuzzy and sleepy again. “Be right back,” I told George. “I want to go get some fresh air.”

  “Uh-huh.” George was peering at the little screen on her camera and didn’t even glance over as I stood up.

  I made my way down the aisle, swaying side to side with the motion of the train. At the end of the car, a door led on to the little open-air platform between our car and the next. I stepped out there and took a deep breath of the cool, clean mountain air. I had the platform to myself for the moment, so I stepped over to the railing and looked out. It was kind of a scary view. The train was hugging the side of the mountain on a ledge so narrow I couldn’t see the edge of it when I looked down. I’m not normally afraid of heights, but I gulped when I saw the dizzying drop-off to the valley floor far, far below.

  Suddenly the door to the next car burst open, and someone stomped out onto the platform. It was Scott, the shore excursions guy. He had a cell phone pressed to his ear.

  “. . . and you’d better figure out a way to fix things before I get to Anchorage,” he hissed into the phone, his voice practically seething with fury. “Because if you don’t, I’m going to—”

  He cut himself off abruptly as he noticed me standing there, staring at him. Clicking the phone off, he glared at me. His face was twisted with anger, making him look like a completely different person than usual.

  He took a quick step toward me. I clutched the railing behind me—the only thing between me and a two-hundred-foot drop to my certain death.

  “You!” Scott growled. “What are you doing out here?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Rebuilding the List

  I SUCKED IN A DEEP BREATH, READY TO scream for help. At that moment the door to my train car flew open.

  “Nancy!” Bess exclaimed. “There you are.” She rushed out, with Alan and George right behind her.

  “I told you she went outside,” George said.

  Alan grinned. “Okay, but you weren’t too sure,” he teased. “All we knew was that we turned around and she was gone!”

  I looked at Scott. His face had relaxed into its usual calm, jovial expression. He caught me looking and smiled sheepishly.

  “Sorry if I startled you, Nancy,” he said. “You ­startled me, too. I guess that’s what I get for trying to do two things at once, huh?” Dropping his phone into his shirt pocket, he reached for the door. “Enjoy the scenery, folks.”

  As he left, Alan tugged at my arm. “Check it out. I want to get a shot of you guys standing here when we pass that waterfall up ahead,” he said. “Hurry, Nancy—get over there between Bess and George.”

  I obeyed, though I wasn’t focused on the scenery. I’m not the type of person who gets rattled easily, but Scott had really scared me for a second. The depth of anger in his eyes had been terrifying. Could there be a dark side to him? Maybe a criminal side? I’d asked Becca about his background after the incident in Ketchikan, and she’d assured me he was an industry veteran who’d been recommended by Captain Peterson himself. That had been enough to make me cross him off the suspect list then. Was it time to investigate him a little further now?

  I wished I could talk to both my friends about it. As it was, the best I could hope for was talking to one of them. As we wandered back toward our seats, I poked Bess in the shoulder.

  “This train ride is really romantic, isn’t it?” I said meaningfully. “It’s nice that you and Alan are getting to enjoy it together.”

  Bess got the hint right away. “Come to think of it, it’s a little crowded around here to call it romantic.” She linked her arm through Alan’s and peered up at him with a smile. “Should we go find the caboose and take some pictures there? Just the two of us?”

  “Sure, Bess. Your wish is my command.”

  Soon they were heading out the door toward the back of the train. I grabbed George and pulled her in the opposite direction, stopping when we reached a block of empty seats a couple of cars up.

  “Very smooth,” George said. “Good thing Alan’s so clueless. He obviously doesn’t even realize we keep trying to ditch him.”

  “Yeah.” I glanced around, double-checking to make sure we wouldn’t be overheard. It seemed pretty safe. Our closest neighbors were a pair of senior citizens snoozing in their seats several rows away. There were also a few members of that family reunion
huddled at the windows up near the front of the car, but the clanking, chugging sounds of the train drowned out their conversation. “So listen,” I told George, “something happened right before you found me just now. . . .”

  I filled her in on the incident with Scott. George looked surprised.

  “Shore Excursion Scott?” she said. “You really think he could be our bad guy?”

  “I don’t know.” I sighed, leaning back in my seat and staring out the window at the looming mountains. “But he was obviously angry with whoever he was talking to on the phone. What if it had something to do with that robbery?”

  “What if it didn’t?” George countered. “You said he mentioned fixing something before he got to Anchorage. That’s the ship’s next stop, remember? He was probably just doing business, organizing the buses to take us from the ship to the city, something like that.”

  “Maybe.” I flashed back to the moment he’d lunged toward me. “But if you could’ve seen his face when he realized I’d heard him . . .”

  “Okay, there’s that.” George leaned past me to snap a photo of a picturesque mountain pass. “But Becca said he has a good rep, right?”

  “Uh-huh. She said the captain recommended him for this job. And he’s worked in the cruise industry for quite a while.”

  George nodded. “Okay. The other thing is, you admitted yourself that you’re sleep deprived today. You’re probably a little on edge from that. Totally understandable, right? But isn’t it possible it’s making you freak out over something that’s not really freak-out-worthy?”

  I couldn’t help smiling at her choice of words. “Maybe,” I admitted, stifling yet another yawn. “Still, we both know from experience that you can’t always tell who’s a criminal based on their public reputation. Or even who their friends are.” I flashed momentarily to that hulking tough guy Scott had met in Ketchikan, and the man with the scarred face he’d talked to briefly before that. He’d claimed they were poker buddies. Was he telling the truth? “It might be worth checking him out a little more,” I added. “Just in case.”