Loco Motive (22 page)

Renie frowned. “You think they wanted to freeze the Gundys?”

“No, but they were in a big hurry to get them off the train. Looking back, I wonder if the
Z
s knew the train was about to move again.” Judith sighed. “Maybe I'm making too much of these so-called coincidences. They do happen.”

“That's why there's a word for it—‘coincidences,'” Renie said. “But I have a hunch that something else is going on here. I also trust your judgment.”

“Thanks,” Judith said, and meant it. “Okay, let's see if the Weevil tickets are in this packet.” She found the schedule where Wolf Point's arrival time was circled. So were Havre and Malta with question marks next to them. She handed the schedule to Renie.

“What do you make of these marks?”

“Wolf Point was their destination. Are the tickets in the packet?”

“Yes,” Judith said, taking her first look. “The tickets were issued to Wilbur Weevil and two other adult passengers whose names aren't listed. First class, accessible bedroom, and a roomette, A3.”

Renie looked thoughtful. “That's downstairs. I think all four of those rooms are for two people. If Wayne is in one of them, I wonder why he didn't ask for a single—unless they booked so late that he couldn't get one.”

Judith flipped through the remaining information. “Just what you'd expect, same as ours. Any ideas about the circle and question marks?”

Renie stared at the schedule. “It was between those two stops that the pickup hit the train.” She looked curiously at Judith. “It
could be an innocent notation concerning the delayed arrival at Wolf Point. But…?”

Judith nodded. “It could also indicate something more ominous. The pen that was used to circle those two stops is the same as the one for Wolf Point, but that only indicates the same person probably used it.”

“Pepper?”

“My first guess,” Judith said. “But Wayne's a possibility.” Renie nodded. “I assume we're thinking the same thing—one of them knew there was going to be an accident.”

Judith took the schedule from Renie and looked at it again. “Not exactly,” she said grimly.

“What do you mean?”

“That there was no accident. The collision with the train was planned to cover up a murder.”

R
enie looked only mildly surprised. “That almost makes sense. But what happened with the pickup driver? Was he ever caught?”

Judith sighed. “We've never heard a word about him. You'd think there'd be a certain buzz on the train if he'd been arrested.”

“Maybe the state patrol or the Amtrak cops won't make an announcement until they're sure they've got the right perp.”

“Yes, yes,” Judith said impatiently. “But…” She shook her head. “I've got to have some time to think this through—logically, of course.”

Renie smiled. “Of course.”

“Let's check out this envelope.” Judith studied it for a moment. “It's not new; it's dog-eared and the little metal clasp tabs are worn off.” She removed a thick sheaf of paper. “It's a life insurance policy.”

“Do I win a prize if I guess it was taken out on Willie?”

Judith scanned the first page. “Bingo. It's a term policy, dated February thirteenth, 1977.” She noticed there seemed to be a second policy, separated from the first by a red flag. “Whoa! This is for Willie, too. The payoff is thirty mil to a company called
WWF, covering accidental death, disability, and dismemberment.”

“Sounds right for Willie,” Renie said. “What do they call it? The Piecemeal Plan?”

“Not funny,” Judith said.

“Hey—I'm not kidding. Years ago I designed an employee benefits guide for the phone company. The insured got so much for losing a finger, so much for an arm, a leg, a—”

“Stop. I'm trying to concentrate.”

“Losing your mind wasn't included in the dismemberment section.”

Judith glowered at her cousin. “I'm losing my temper. Do you want to lose consciousness?”

Renie shut up.

“The term policy,” Judith said after a long pause, “is five mil, beneficiary, Richard Elmo Weevil.” She frowned. “Willie's son?”

Renie shrugged. “How would I know?”

“Ricky,” Judith murmured. “Justin's mentioned him, but not favorably. Ricky's a jerk, according to his cousin.” She stared hard at Renie. “There are times when cousins feel that way about each other.”

Renie stared right back. “Indeed.”

Judith was puzzled. “If Willie died five years ago, Ricky would've gotten five million dollars.”

“What do you mean? Ricky received the money when Willie died, but nobody else knew he was dead?”

Judith looked confused. “No…I mean…” She shook her head. “I understand what you're saying. If Willie died back then, but was supposed to be alive until this afternoon, the policy would never have been paid to Ricky. This sheds new light on things, doesn't it?”

“In a dim and mystifying way,” Renie conceded. “How do we know if Ricky collected the money?”

“We don't.” Judith's eyes were fixed on the first page of the
policy. “Why would anyone carry this paperwork around if the insured is already dead?”

Renie's expression was wry. “I'll bet you have a few ideas.”

“They're off the wall,” Judith said, gazing out into the pitch-black night. No longer could she see a building, a light, a car, or any sign of life. “If I'm right about the truck driver racing the train, then this whole situation has been a setup. But why? And where did it all begin?”

Renie scowled. “I'm not sure I understand.”

“Neither do I,” Judith said. “What's the point of keeping insurance policies after the person dies? If Willie has been dead for five years, did Ricky Weevil collect? He must know the truth.”

“They sound like a fractured family. Are you sure Ricky's alive?”

“Justin would've mentioned if he wasn't,” Judith said. “They were about the same age. There were a couple of other children from Willie's second marriage, but I think they're girls. Justin's never talked about them much.”

“How many times was Willie married?” Renie asked.

“Twice?” Judith guessed. “Or maybe a longtime live-in girl friend.” She uttered a rueful laugh. “I assumed it was Pepper.”

“You don't think so now?”

“I don't know what to think.” Judith reached into her purse and took out the camera.

“Let's figure out how to view these photos.” She removed the damp tissues and put them in the waste receptacle. “Here,” she said, handing the camera to Renie. “You've worked with photographers who use cameras like this.”

Renie's jaw dropped. “Are you nuts? That's why I work
with
photographers. You know I can't operate high-tech gizmos.”

“Poke something. There's a little screen.”

“Oh…” Renie turned the camera over and pressed a button.

“It's a front view of your house. You're standing on the walk, looking up.”

“Let me see.” Judith studied the frame. “Yes, I was trying to
dissuade Willie from jumping out of the window.” She poked the button. “Here he is, landing in the rhododendron bush.” She moved on to the next picture. “I'm arguing with Willie—I call him that because I don't know him by any other name.”

“Understood,” Renie said, getting up to move so she could look over Judith's shoulder. “There's Willie rushing off. Did you scare him?”

“No. That's when he ran up and down the Counterbalance. Joe saw him doing it. Here's Arlene talking to me.” She looked at Renie. “Who took these? Wayne didn't show up until later.”

“Why take the pictures at all?” Renie asked. “The only reason I can think of is that it shows Willie's first jump.”

“I agree. Let's see what's next.”

The next photos started with Judith and Phyliss arguing on the back porch; Phyliss making the sign against the evil eye behind her back; Gertrude wheeling herself out of the toolshed; and an angry, red-faced Joe in profile. “Joe's warning Willie not to jump,” Judith said before pointing to the shot showing Willie about to take off. “There's Mother again, looking fit to spit.”

“Gee,” Renie said, “I'm sorry I missed all this.”

“I'll bet.” Judith pressed the button again. “Ah! See—Willie's sailing through space. Oh, dear—here's his crash landing.” She couldn't suppress a shudder. “It's really kind of awful.”

“Right.” Renie's sounded unsympathetic.

“Wayne's trying to help Willie, but Joe tells him to back off because he could do more harm than good. That's after Joe called 911.”

“Stop,” Renie said. “Go back a few frames.”

Judith had no problem reversing the process. “How far?”

“Right there,” Renie replied. “Look at Willie's face before he jumps. He seems scared. Also, note the leaves in the air. Was it windy?”

“Yes,” Judith said. “A big gust came along just as Willie jumped, sending him off course, so that he landed in the pyracan
tha instead of the lily-of-the-valley bush.” She peered more closely at the picture. “He does look startled.”

“Check out the next two shots after he lands. Not,” Renie went on, “at Willie and Wayne and Joe, but to the left at the back door. That's not Phyliss—she's standing on the porch steps almost out of the frame.”

“You're right,” Judith said. “That red hair belongs to Pepper.”

“That's not all,” Renie said. “Go back to Joe before the jump, where he looks irate. It's a profile. Now look again at the three guys by the bush. What's wrong with this picture?”

Judith frowned as she studied the frame. “If you mean how Willie's grimacing and grinding his teeth in pain or Pepper knowing something bad has—oh! I get it. Wayne has the camera around his neck, so he didn't take these pictures.”

“That's not all,” Renie said. “This shot had to be taken from at least thirty feet away to get the area from the driveway to the back door.”

Judith was mystified. “The only person who was further back in the yard was Mother. She hasn't used a camera since her old Kodak got run over by our Model A Ford during World War Two.”

Renie nodded. “Wayne's camera is probably very good, but he didn't use this one to take these pictures. Let's see the rest.”

The next two frames showed Judith heading into the house, followed by a shot of Wayne and Joe looking at Willie, who was still entangled in the bush.

“That's it,” Renie said. “Whoever took the photos stopped here. There could be a hundred or more unused frames in the camera.”

Judith didn't respond at once. “I'm trying to piece together what happened after the EMTs arrived, but I'm muddled. It was a bad day.”

Renie sat in her chair. “What happened after you went inside?” Judith sighed. “I had a headache from all the commotion. I
wanted to avoid the EMTs. I recall wondering where Pepper was and how she could miss the chaos. She wasn't in the kitchen, but she must've been there a few moments earlier since she's at the back door in the shot after Willie took his dive.”

“When did she confront you?”

Judith recalled taking Excedrin, but blanked out on what came next. “I didn't see Pepper until after the EMTs arrived. She must've gone outside to see what happened and talked to the medics because she knew Willie had broken his leg and his arm. She didn't come from the kitchen or I'd have seen her when I came indoors. Maybe she used the front door or the French doors off the living room.” She made a helpless gesture. “I can't remember.”

Renie laughed. “You're a good sleuth, but a damned poor witness.”

“You don't need to mention that,” Judith said ruefully, and paused to concentrate. “I heard sirens and then saw the medics approaching. I couldn't bear facing them for the umpteenth time, so I went into the parlor and watched from the window as they pulled in.”

“Very good, coz.” Renie's ironic expression changed abruptly.

“Wait—you saw and heard the EMTs? Where were you before you went into the parlor? You couldn't see them from the kitchen.”

Judith clapped a hand to her forehead. “Good grief! That's the part I forgot. I was on the front porch. Those girls—Maddie and Tiff—came to ask about Herself's rental. I sent them to see Arlene. After they left, I rearranged some of my holiday decorations that had gotten blown over by the wind.”

“Well, well.” Renie's brown eyes twinkled. “The missing links.”

“But where do they fit in?” Judith asked, leaning forward and lowering her voice.

“When we were downstairs a few minutes ago, what did they say about wishing they hadn't gotten involved with…a man?”

“I don't recall the exact words,” Renie admitted. “They alluded to a man, but it was more like…how to deal with him?”

“Maybe.” Judith paused. “Can you remove those pictures?”

“Ah…” Renie grimaced. “It's a memory card. You can take it out, but we can't look at the pictures without a computer.”

“Doesn't matter. I want to return the camera to its rightful owners—assuming it belongs to Tiff and Maddie.”

“And you will next say, ‘There's only one way to find out.'” Judith nodded. “They must still be downstairs. We haven't heard anybody in the corridor since we got back here.”

“Okay,” Renie agreed reluctantly. “Shall I remove the card?”

“Yes.”

“Hoo boy,” Renie said under her breath. “This could be ugly.”

“I trust you,” Judith assured her. “What could possibly go wrong?”

Renie shot her cousin a withering glance. “Let's put it this way—the damned thing probably won't explode and kill us.”

While Renie fiddled with the camera, Judith tried to organize her thoughts. She felt as if her brain was working on overload. There was Pepper, who might know the bogus Willie's identity and explain why she had an insurance policy on a dead man. There were Dick and Jane Z, who seemed to have abducted the elderly Gundys. There were the Cowboy Hats, with Mr. Hat apparently morphing into someone else after getting off the train to smoke. There was Wayne Fielding, who might or might not be who and what he claimed to be. And there was the missing truck driver, who could be anyone, anywhere.

“Got it!” Renie exclaimed, holding up a small computer memory card. “Where do you want to put it?”

“My purse,” Judith said. “If the camera belongs to Maddie and Tiff, how could they take the pictures and not be seen?”

“Easy,” Renie responded. “A telephoto lens. They might've shot the front of the house from a car by the entrance to the cul-de-sac. Out back, your yard slopes up the hillside. You've got all
kinds of shrubs and bushes there, just like we do. I trim our evergreens by using them for Christmas decorations.”

“Pruning's an endless job,” Judith said. “I enjoy gardening, but it's hard for me to…” She stared at Renie. “Maybe Mother isn't crazy.”

“Maybe not, but I've no idea what you're talking about.”

“She called Willie Santa Claus because he was by the chimney wearing a red jumpsuit,” Judith explained. “She also mentioned Santa's elves. Thinking back, I visualized Maddie and Tiff. They were wearing red and green jackets—Christmas colors. Remember when we took our kids to see Santa? His helpers were always pretty girls dressed as elves.”

“Sure. One Santa was a lecher who got too chummy with our Anne. Of course, she was seventeen and drop-dead gorgeous, if I do say so myself.”

“When did your thirtysomething offspring stop believing in Santa?”

Renie looked affronted. “Who told you they stopped?”

“Forget it,” Judith said, with a pitying expression. “Okay, Maddie and Tiff probably took the photos.” She stood up. “Let's go see them.”

Two minutes later the cousins were at Maddie and Tiff's roomette door. Renie had volunteered to take the lead, assuming that the young women wouldn't recognize her voice. She rapped twice on the door.