Death Takes a Holiday (14 page)

*

Grace stood behind the bar and watched in amusement as Sara and Steve played chess with one another. She smiled as Steve’s eyes lit up at something Sara said. She was glad he had found someone he liked. She only hoped Sara was exactly what she appeared to be. Perhaps, he’ll now get over his obsession with Melodie. That should make her happy . . . or then again maybe not, Grace thought ruefully.

“What kind of party is this?” Felicity
asked from the lounge car door. “Where’s the music?”

Grace glanced at the CD player next to her currently blasting out the hits of the 90s. The 1790s.

Felicity strode up to the bar. “I want to dance. Don’t you have something a bit more of a beat to it,” she said, swaying her hips. “Where’s that blond good-looking hunk who’s always around you?”

“He’ll be back,” Grace said, walking toward the built in bookcase on the wall. She browsed through the titles until she finally found one with music produced in the last century. She quickly switched the CDs and moved back behind the bar, just in time to watch Felicity pull Parker into an indecent clinch.

Sara and Steve quickly abandoned their chess game to do their own version of dirty dancing.

Propping her chin up with her hand, Grace looked toward the door, wishing Kyle would come back. She could probably get at least one dance out of him before Felicity took over. She glanced over at the other woman and her current dance partner. Parker had his hands firmly around Felicity’s waist as he did
a basic two-step shuffle. The poor man appeared to be concentrating on just performing those basic moves as his partner gyrated against him in abandon. How can she possibly move like that in that dress? Grace thought in amazement. She glanced down at the charcoal gray monstrosity she was wearing. Not exactly the outfit she envisioned wearing on her first night of the trip with Kyle. For once, she would like to attend a party, with Kyle, where she was dressed a bit more like Marilyn Monroe and a bit less like a fashion school reject. More than anything, she wanted to wear something that would make him stand up and notice her.

Her e
yes drifted to Tracy and Robert who were studiously ignoring one another from opposite ends of the car. Tracy sat in her chair, sullenly staring outside while her husband sat at the game table playing solitaire. Grace glared at Robert. How could he ignore his wife? She was obviously afraid.

Grace watched in sympathy as Tracy reached for her cup of hot chocolate. She carefully picked up her cup and brought it to her mouth, spilling some of it in the process. She glanced down at her sweater and shook her head sadly before setting the cup back down on the table next to her.
Sniffling, she looked toward her husband as she embarrassedly wiped away a tear.

Feeling a bit like a voyeur, Grace glanced at the only other person present and he wasn’t really present at all. Wellington still sat in his chair, sound asleep. Grace looked at him closer, realizing she hadn’t seen him move in over an hour. How could he possibly sleep sitting up like that? Grace wondered as she picked up a cup and walked to the other side of the bar. She reached up and pushed the lever down to the hot chocolate canister, disappointed when only a fourth of the chocolate came out. She walked back around the bar and picked up the second canister
. She set it down quickly when she realized the top of the container was loose. Tightening it back up, she quickly exchanged the two canisters and walked back around with her cup.

S
he jumped when she felt Sara tap her on her shoulder. “Could we talk for a second? In my room?” she asked brightly, pointing toward the sleeping car.

Grace looked at the other woman suspiciously. What could she possibly want to talk about back
in the sleeping car? Grace thought to herself. Deciding that there was only one way to find out, Grace nodded and turned toward the door. Steve, eager to follow, jumped to his feet.

Sara laid a hand against his chest. “Sorry,
girl talk. I’ll be right back, sugarplum,” she said, lightly patting his cheek.

Steve gave her a goofy smile and sat back down. “I’ll be right here waiting for you
, baby.”

“Oh, I know you will
, sugar,” Sara said, lightly patting his cheek.

Grace tried and failed to stop herself from rolling her eyes.
She glanced past Sara’s shoulder at Kyle who was just entering the car. When he looked like he was about to follow, Sara stopped him with the same excuse she used on Steve.

Grace just shrugged her shoulders at his questioning look as she followed Sara
out of the car. She glanced over her shoulder as Felicity made a lunge for Kyle’s hand. Still hanging on to Parker, she turned around until he was at her back and Kyle was in front of her. Kyle threw Grace a pained glance as the door shut behind her.

Walking single file, Grace and Sara passed through the dining car, the observation car and part of the sleeping car without saying a word until they reached Sara’s door. “I figured we could have a nice quiet chat in here,” she said, taking a key out of her clutch and stuck it in the door knob. She jiggled it a bit in frustration for several seconds before the lock finally gave way and turned.

Sara’s room was a bit different from Kyle’s. Instead of two twin beds, Sara’s room came with a big double bed and a small seating area. Grace’s eyes fell to the dresser in the corner and the framed nursery rhyme sitting on top.

She glanced back to Sara who was motioning for Grace to have a seat in the armchair. To Grace’s surprise, Sara chose to stand over her instead of sitting on one of the other chairs or the double bed. Grace felt at a distinct disadvantage as she stared up at the other woman.

“Grace, I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to chat
, but . . .” Sara paused, biting her lip. “Steve just said something very odd.”

“That’s not unusual. I find it best just to ignore him.”

Sara’s lips quirked up briefly before settling back down into a frown. “When everyone was explaining how they came to be on this train, I realized that no one had asked you. So, I asked Steve who told me that you were . . . stalking him—”

Grace
rolled her eyes. “Again, it’s best just to ignore Steve.”

Sara looked Grace over.
Her bubbly personality disappearing with each passing second. “You don’t look like the type to sneak aboard a train,” she said her voice lowering slightly. “Not for someone like Steve Mattingly. Why are you really here?”

Feeling suspiciously like she was
being interrogated, Grace raised her eyebrow. “Tell you what Sara. I’ll tell you what I’m doing here, if you tell me what you’re doing here.”

“
Like I said before it was a spur of the moment decision.”

“Very spur of the moment.”

Sara looked uncomfortable. “Meaning?”

“Oh, just that I saw you when you boarded
,” she said trying to sound nonchalant. “You were almost late. You also didn’t look like you were planning on staying long at the hotel.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Most people pack when they take a trip somewhere. You didn’t have any luggage with you this morning,” Grace pointed out. “Why did you suddenly decide you had to be on this train?”

“I could ask you the same question. Why are you here, Grace?”

“Why are you so interested?”

“I’m just making small talk.”

Sara had an odd way of instigating small talk, but Grace was willing to humor her. “Kyle invited me. I’m here because of him.”

“Of course, I should have known.” S
haking her head in amusement, Sara sat down on the edge of the bed. “Then you didn’t follow Steve onto this train?”

“No, I did not. I didn’t even know he was going to be on board. You seem awfully taken with him in such a short time.”

“Oh, I find him absolutely charming,” Sara said sweetly as her bubbly personality returned full force. “Don’t you?”

“Kyle seems to think you know Steve.”

Innocence written across her face, Sara lightly shook her head. “I don’t know where he got that idea. What does Steve think?”

“He says he’s never met you before.” Grace crossed her arms. “I think he just needs his memory refreshed. In fact, I’m willing to bet that several people on this train know who you are.” Grace took in the other woman’s platinum blonde hair, overly done makeup and bright blue eyes. “Perhaps I should call a meeting. I’m sure someone here
will recognize you. I’m betting you’re not really a blonde.” She looked closer at Sara’s eyes. “And you’re wearing colored contacts.”

Sara looked at Grace intently before coming to some internal decision. Chuckling, Sara opened her purse and
reached inside. The hilt of a gun was the first thing Grace saw.

“You know, I have to apologize. I’ve been really rude. I think the stress is getting to me. If you say you don’t know Steve then you don’t know Steve. I’m probably just,” Grace stuttered choking over the words, “jealous. I did follow Steve here
, but I can see he belongs with you.”

Sara rummaged through her purse and pulled out her wallet. “Relax,” she said, handing Grace a
Colorado private investigator’s license and a business card with Wellington Detective Agency embossed in gold lettering. A very serious brown haired, brown eyed Sara Michaels stared out at her from the license. “Turner is an alias I use when I’m undercover.”

Feeling like her heart was about to explode in her chest, Grace took a deep breath and blew it out. “A detective
? Why haven’t you said anything?”

“
Because so far, no one here has recognized me. I think we may all be in danger and I would very much appreciate your cooperation and discretion in this matter.”

Her heart returning to a normal beat, Grace smiled sweetly. “Oh, absolutely, I won’t tell a soul.
Your secret is safe with me.”

*

“So, Sara’s a detective?” Kyle asked softly. “That’s not exactly surprising.”

“I was surprised,” she whispered back
, handing him a clean dish.

“This business must be making me jaded,” Kyle said
, placing the last dish away and closing the cabinet door.

Grace smiled up at him, pretty confident he was becoming no such thing.
She glanced over her shoulder at Meredith who sat a few feet away from them, periodically looking up from her magazine and offering suggestions. After three dropped plates, four shattered glasses and Meredith’s attempts at “fixing” the microwave, Grace decided Meredith was far more helpful sitting in the corner than actually participating in the cleanup.

“Well, thank goodness that’s over,” Meredith said from her perch.

“It’s not over. We still have to clean up the lounge,” Grace said.

Meredith glared at the door
. “How long are they going to be out there?” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m never going to get any sleep tonight.”

“
It shouldn’t be much longer,” Kyle answered with a yawn. “It looked like everyone was winding down when I left the party.”

Meredith nodded toward Kyle. “Don’t you think it’s time for him to go back out there? This area is for train personnel only.”

“I didn’t hear you say anything when he was helping us clean up,” Grace pointed out wryly.

Meredith lifted her hands. “Fine
, but Henry’s not going to like it.”

Kyle turned
to Grace. “Can you come out and—”

“No.” Oscar stood at the stove on the other side of the room. “She cannot come out. She’s working,” he said
, adding nutmeg to the pan in front of him.

“I thought you
had quit . . . again,” Grace said.

“I
did, but Henry said that one of the passengers had a special request,” he snarled. “Apparently, the seven different types of desserts I’ve prepared aren’t good enough. She has to have something special.”

“Oh, yeah, I heard.” Kyle slid around Meredith to stand next to Grace. “
Felicity Gray seems a bit high maintenance.”

Oscar glared at the door beyond Kyle’s shoulder. “Pudding. Packaged pudding, mixed with crushed store bought cookies,” he said disgust dripping off every word. “
She doesn’t deserve taste buds.”

“Couldn’t you say no?” Kyle asked.

“Henry doesn’t know the meaning of the word. Besides Mr. Kirby wanted some, too. The Kirby’s apparently don’t like the way I cook the food, bake the desserts or mix the hot chocolate.”

“I bet
Robert passed him a few dollars,” Meredith said.

Oscar threw the spoon in the sink.
“Philistines. The lot of them.”

“You should make Henry cut you in
,” Meredith said.

“Yes
.” Oscar sneered as he poured the pudding into a crystal dish. “A couple of bucks will make such a difference—”

“I bet it was more than a couple of bucks,” Meredith said. “He’s worth a couple of million. Maybe more.”

“Wonderful,” Oscar said sarcastically. He grabbed a handful of chocolate chip cookies and crushed them between his hands, dropping them in a heap on top of the pudding. “It makes me glad to know with all that money he chooses runny powdered glop to the exquisite mouthwatering delicacies created by me.” He glared at her when she reached out to take the tray. “No thank you. I’ll serve these to them myself. The last thing I want is for Mr. Kirby to choke on a couple of razor blades while slurping down this slop.”