Holiday Gone Page 7

  “Cecil is dead!” Janet wept into her handkerchief, ignoring the Mountie. “My heavens. Cecil! We just saw him, so full of life. So impassioned with his love for Hettie. And now, now—all that happiness is gone.”

  Ro closed her eyes and tightened her lips to hold back a curse, but Hettie muttered one.

  “And—and—and…the rest of us are trapped on a train with a homicidal maniac,” Janet breathed, horrified. “One of us could be next! We could be murdered in our beds like Cecil.”

  “Cecil was murdered in your bed,” Hettie said coldly, and Ro crossed to her, hooking their arms.

  “Oh!” Janet said, stamping her foot. “Oh! You don’t care. You didn’t want Cecil. You couldn’t see his kind heart.”

  “He tried to wring my neck,” Hettie reminded Janet. “I thought that was a rather clear picture into what he was.”

  “You drove him to it. You prodded and belittled him until he set aside his goodness to deal with you.”

  “Deal with her?” Ro snapped.

  The conductor cleared his throat. “The engineer is working on clearing the tracks from the avalanche. He thinks he’ll have an update for us within the hour. Things will be easier when we can get moving again.”

  “You! I think he did it!” Janet said. “He manhandled Cecil.”

  “So did I,” Frederick said, “and I didn’t kill old Cecil. You can’t let a fellow assault a girl.”

  The Mountie ignored Janet and Frederick, but Ro would have bet her fortune he’d made a mental note of all of it. Instead of reacting, he pasted a polite smile on his face and gestured Janet and Humphrey down the aisle with Janet wailing and bemoaning Cecil the whole way.

  The Mountie glanced back. “Re-secure the compartment and ensure that you are the only one with a key,” he told the security officer. “This room is not to be entered until further notice.”

  The train’s silent security officer nodded and locked it carefully.

  Jonas turned on his heel and walked the opposite direction, also muttering threats as he retreated.

  Mr. Ribsy simply shook his head and then looked at Hettie and Ro, who were the last ones remaining. “I need to get cleaned up. I’m—I’m so sorry about everything.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Hettie told him.

  “Yes I know, but—”

  “It’s no trouble, Conductor Ribsy. Are you certain you are all right? Perhaps you need a whiskey.”

  “I need one,” Hettie told her.

  Ro glanced at Hettie. “It’s odd that they’re so focused on poor Ribsy.”

  “He’s convenient,” Hettie said. “If this were a country house, they’d have blamed a servant or a passing homeless man.”

  “Like I said before,” Ro muttered, “sometimes I really hate the super wealthy.”

  Hettie chimed in. “Likely one of them did it, we only need to find out why. Otherwise, I’d bet your yacht that they’ll either turn focus to me or poor Ribsy.”

  Chapter 10

  The conductor excused himself and Hettie wasted no time pulling Ro down the corridor and around the corner.

  “I need to talk to you, Ro. Really talk to you. Come back to our compartment. I need to think and I need privacy.”

  Once inside, Hettie locked the door. They both paused long enough to recognize it was the first time they’d bothered and their gazes met. Hettie took a deep breath and then muttered something about that whiskey.

  “What’s going on?” Ro asked.

  Hettie licked her lips before she breathed. “Amy!”

  “Amy?”

  “She was so quick to blame everyone.”

  “Yes,” Ro said, pushing Hettie to sit and pulling down her bag where she’d packed the very fine Canadian whiskey she’d purchased while they were marathon shopping. She poured them both a glass.

  Hettie accepted hers, took a large swallow, and then closed her eyes against the burn while she shuddered. “What if it was Amy? What if that’s why she was blaming everyone else?”

  “Well,” Ro’s mouth twisted. “Are we going to help her?”

  Hettie slowly shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t help my sister get away with murder. There’s a part of me that loves her and a part of me that wants to smother her while she sleeps for being so…so…poisonous, but I won’t help her get away with murder.”

  “Do you think she could have?”

  Hettie sipped the whiskey again and then slowly nodded. “I think Amy could have killed Cecil. I don’t buy the idea that they were suddenly united for my happiness. Perhaps over business?”

  “Business? I thought he was ruined?”

  “Why would she have been so focused on me marrying him? Father settled a portion of the company on each of us when we married. It was our dowry and provides much of my income.”

  “He did?”

  Hettie nodded. “A percentage of the company when we married. Perhaps Amy thought she could—I don’t know…take over the company? I don’t know why she’d want to, but I suppose if I could have been persuaded to her side through Cecil, we could turn on Father.”

  “Could she trust him?” Ro asked.

  Hettie shrugged. “I wouldn’t. But, Amy always liked him when we were younger. She told me I was a fool when I didn’t accept his proposal before Harvey. They were the ones of an age, you know. I was younger.”

  “So,” Ro said, “the way she’s acting is making you wonder if she was working with him on a plot that turned sour?”

  “I don’t know,” Hettie admitted. “She’s acting so meanly. Now that I say it out loud, however, isn’t she always difficult? Maybe she decided to target me so it wouldn’t be on her. I suppose both Ribsy and I were rather obvious suspects.”

  “She seems to be aiming wherever suspicion might land,” Ro agreed. “If it was her, why would she meet him? Would she have a reason to kill him?”

  “Perhaps Amy realized that I really wouldn’t marry him? Perhaps she explained to Cecil it wouldn’t happen, and they fought. Amy does have quite a temper. She knows me well enough to guess after he lost his temper at lunch that I would never marry him. I could easily envision her picking up the nearest heavy item and knocking him down. Maybe it was an act of rage like the Mountie said?”

  Ro swirled the whiskey in her glass and glanced outside. It had started to snow again, but rather than the thick sheets of whiteness, it was a light sprinkling as though fairies were shaking out snow overhead. The sky was swiftly becoming dark and full night would be upon them. It was a wonderland outside and a ghost story inside.

  “You think that Amy intends on letting you or Ribsy take the fall for the murder?”

  Hettie shook her head, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

  “Certainly you didn’t do it,” Ro continued, “and it goes without saying that we’ll not let them put that on you, but I also worry for Conductor Ribsy. The scene does point to him.”

  Hettie would have paced if they had anything more than a closet with bunks to themselves, but she’d tried before and it hadn’t helped. “I think we have to meddle. If my sister did murder Cecil, she will have been very deliberate about it. She doesn’t do anything without a plan.”

  “She does seem awful, but do you really think she could have carried this off? Is she even tall enough to have hit him over the head with the clock? I don’t know how heavy it is, but it looks substantial.”

  “She’s capable. Sadly. Did you notice the way she refused to look at me? If she had killed him, she’d know I’d guess the truth so she would refuse eye contact. And it would be like her to then accuse me of killing Cecil.” Hettie considered. “I’ve seen that clock before. It’s in different compartments. I noticed it on several desks when we walked by open doors when we first boarded. Let’s find another room that has a clock like that and see how heavy it is. What do you think?”

  “I say it can’t hurt. Are you planning on confronting your sister?”

  “Yes. I also want to talk to my Uncle Humphrey and
Janet. I think they had business dealings with Cecil. Perhaps they can shed light on whatever my sister and Cecil were involved in since it couldn’t possibly have been all about me. Let’s talk to Amy first, then the Bankses. We’ll decide what to do after that.”

  As soon as they reached Amy and Frederick’s compartment door, Hettie began pounding it. “I know you are in there, Amy.”

  “Go away!”

  “No!” Hettie pounded furiously. “I mean it, open the door. You are not going to pin this murder on me or on that poor conductor.” Hettie paused with a look to Ro, who nodded encouragement. “I know you killed Cecil. Open this door immediately.”

  The door flew open and Amy pulled Hettie inside. She would have closed the door in Ro’s face if Hettie hadn’t blocked it and pulled Ro into the compartment behind her.

  They noticed first a nervously pacing Frederick, then a scheming look on Amy’s face, and then the clock. Ro made eye contact with Hettie. Hettie gave her a wordless sign of agreement. She’d discreetly pick it up while Hettie blasted her sister with accusations.

  Ro drifted towards the clock as soon as Hettie opened her mouth. As she did so, she saw Frederick push a newspaper over a haphazard of other papers on the desk.

  “You were scheming behind my back to get me married to Cecil,” Hettie accused. “It had nothing to do with the family connection, did it? How could you? You saw how he treated me and you made it seem as though it was my fault that he attacked me.”

  “Not quite the thing,” Frederick said. “Hurting a woman.”

  “He was a horrible man.”

  “Not my favorite of Amy’s lads.”

  “Oh you!” Amy snapped. “Idiots. Of course I didn’t kill Cecil. Why would I?” Her gaze turned cunning. “He didn’t attack me. He’d have been entirely manageable, Hettie, if you’d bothered to appease his pride and fluttered your lashes a little.”

  Ro choked to hold back her reaction, wanting to take Hettie’s sister and shake her.

  “How could you defend him?” Hettie demanded.

  “Men are fragile,” Amy said.

  Hettie groaned. “If I thought you’d killed him in defense of me, I could almost respect that, but we both know that’s not the case.”

  “To defend you?” Amy laughed. “What defense do you need?”

  “Why did you want him married into our family?”

  “What does it matter? He’s dead.”

  “I want to understand why, and I can promise you that I’ll get to the bottom of it. How did you do it? Did you press Frederick into service? Even for you, I didn’t think Frederick would stoop that low.”

  “I didn’t kill anyone,” Frederick defended, for the first time looking legitimately panicked. “Neither did Amy. She’s been with me all day. We’ve been in the bar car, trying to stay warm since the train stopped.”

  Amy nodded vigorously. “Ask Uncle Humphrey and Janet. They were there too. They will vouch for us. Besides, it is actually quite a disaster for me that Cecil is dead. I had finally talked him into a business arrangement and we were so close to having everything wrapped up. Now it was all for nothing.”

  “What business arrangement?” Ro tried, but Amy gave her a scathing look.

  Hettie glared at her sister. “I don’t believe you. I’ll find out what you did and why you did it before we get to the island.” She turned to Frederick. “If you helped her, or are helping her now, you know as well as I do that she will turn on you. If I were you, I wouldn’t rely on the word of your wife—no doubt she made you a promise if you did her bidding and helped her to get away with it.”

  Ro wanted to applaud. Hettie was playing her sister masterfully, putting her on the defensive to try to learn the details of whatever business she had with Cecil, and now she was thrusting Frederick into it too.

  He blanched under Hettie’s pointed stare. “You don’t know what you are talking about.” It sounded more like a question than it did a statement or a defense. “Amy loves me.”

  “If it wasn’t you,” Amy said, glaring at Hettie, “then it had to be the conductor. I heard he was standing over the body when you found him. As far as any of us know, you and the conductor murdered him together, arranged to have him found across from my compartment so you could set me up to take the fall for the murder. You really are a despicable sister, Hettie Hughes.”

  “You are the one who pulled me in,” Hettie snapped.

  “You are the one who left,” Amy snapped back viciously. “Don’t be so quick to suggest my guilt, Hettie. There is much you don’t know about Cecil.”

  “I knew enough to know not to marry him,” Hettie answered.

  “Did you know he was having an affair with a woman who is on this train? If you find her, you’ll likely find his killer.”

  Ro frowned. Amy was quick to let go of her accusations of Hettie as the murderer.

  “Why are you so convinced he was having an affair with a woman on the train? Is it someone we know? Was it you?”

  Frederick gaped, his gaze turning to his wife. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, but Hettie didn’t let up.

  “Amy, how long have you been sleeping with Cecil? Does Frederick know or is this the first he’s hearing of it?”

  Frederick choked. Amy’s eyes bulged. “You don’t know anything, Hettie. Perhaps you should turn your searchlight onto Janet Banks.”

  “Janet? Humphrey’s wife?”

  “Really, Hettie. She’s barely five years older than us and she married a man older than her father. If anyone had reason to have an affair with Cecil, it would be her.”

  “You’ll go to any length to make yourself look better, won’t you? I don’t know how anyone could stomach sleeping with Cecil, least of all a woman as beautiful and as married as Janet.”

  Ro was back at Hettie’s side. She could see that the conversation was about to descend into meaningless arguing. Their work here was done. “Let’s go, Hettie.”

  Ro had to drag Hettie out into the corridor in order to keep Hettie from losing her mind. If Amy’s eyes had been bulging, Hettie had been at risk of having smoke flying from her ears. Ro’s nerves were fraying and this wasn’t even her family. They might have been successful in rattling Amy, but she’d struck her own blows.

  Ro needed off this train to nowhere before she actually did become homicidal. Amy would be at the top of her list.

  Ro pulled Hettie down the corridor. “Come now, Hettie. It’s all right. They won’t get away with whatever they are trying to get away with.”

  “I need to calm down, Ro. I can’t even think straight. Did you notice how my sister wasn’t even drunk? It hasn’t been that long since she was stumbling when she walked up to the Mountie and the train security officer. Did she just read the scenario and put on an act? She was always performing when were children, so it’s possible.”

  “I have no idea. Hettie, did you notice the papers that were strewn all about the desk?”

  Hettie shook her head. “My eyes were fixed on my sister.”

  “He tried to be discreet, but he covered them up when we went in. Whatever is in those papers was something they didn't want us to see.”

  “Maybe whatever Amy was up to with Cecil.” Hettie rubbed her temple. “They’re giving me a headache. This goes further than just Cecil’s death, doesn’t it?”

  “Let’s go outside,” Ro said. “After this day and the perfume and lunch and Cecil and your sister—I need some air.”

  Chapter 11

  “I’ve got an idea, Ro.” They had stepped off the train and into the snow and seemed to be the only ones dim enough to do so other than a few of the conductors who were smoking in a group near one of the exits from the train.

  “This much snow is ridiculous. I know you have an idea, but I think we should take a moment to look around.”

  Hettie glanced at the snow and then took in deep breaths. The chill appeared to be calming her in a way that nothing but distance from her family could do. Ro joined her in taki
ng deep breaths and found the cold bracing but head-clearing.

  “What is it?” Ro asked, finally ready. “What’s your idea?”

  “The Mountie and the train security officer. They are going to be interviewing Amy and Frederick. If they interview them in the dining car like they are with Janet and Humphrey, then we’ll break into their compartment.”

  “Oh,” Ro said, laughing. “How?”

  “I don’t know! I haven’t gotten that far yet. But we need to get a look at those papers you noticed. They will be incriminating, I think.”

  “I like it,” Ro said, grinning wickedly. “How hard can it be to break into a train compartment?”

  “It’s not like we haven’t done this before. We rifled through a good fifteen rooms in that adventurer club.”

  “Let’s see what we can do on our own train compartment door.”

  Hettie snorted. “Are you being the voice of reason?”

  “No,” Ro said instantly. “No, of course not. Never.”

  When they reached their compartment, Hettie fidgeted with the lock. She lowered her voice since the door to the main aisle was open and anyone passing by could hear them. “It should have the same locking mechanism. Luck will simply have to be on our side. I know you don’t pray often, Ro, but if you’d consider a little prayer for us, I think we could use the help.”

  Ro bowed her eyes for a split second and then looked up. “Consider help on the way.”

  “Let’s hope it works. There! I got the lock. I am so good at this. I’m going to be a criminal in my next life!” She closed the door behind her and glanced at Ro. “You have your revolver?”

  Ro patted the coat pocket that held her revolver. “Oh, and Hettie? Aren’t you glad I brought my revolver? I think I need to name her. It’s a her, don’t you think? That seems appropriate, doesn’t it, just as ships are female?”

  “If she’s ours, though I will never touch her, she’s a girl.”

  “Let’s name her. After we get through this first. But let’s hope we don’t have to use it because I forgot the bullets in Montreal. So even if we do need it, it should only be used to scare a person.”