Himalayan Hazard

Chapter Fourteen

I’d asked so many people if they knew where we could find Rhonda that my voice stung from overuse. The corners of my mouth also hurt from all the forced smiles. The cats and I had already hit up all the cars between the front of the train and the dining car, which meant there were only a few more to cross before arriving at the sleeper cars, and only a handful of those to try before we ran out of people to question altogether.

C’mon. C’mon, please. We have to find something.

I took a few more steps down the aisle, then turned to an older woman with shoulder-length black hair and large brown eyes rimmed with thick lashes. I could tell she’d been pretty in her youth because she was still stunning even now. She wore a hooded sweatshirt that you didn’t often see women her age sporting, and she definitely didn’t look like the type of person who’d have associated with Rhonda Lou Ella Smith, unless she was also a cat enthusiast.

I smiled and took a deep breath, leaning closer to her as I spoke. “Excuse me. Do you know where I can find Rhonda Lou Ella Smith?” I asked pleasantly, widening my smile as I waited.

She frowned and mouthed, “Sorry” without actually making a sound. Respecting her sleeping seatmate, how thoughtful. I’d been far less considerate in my search, jostling several passengers from sleep unintentionally.

“We’ve got a live one here!” Octo-Cat bellowed.

“She knows something,” Grizabella confirmed in her melodic voice. “I can smell it all over her.”

Showtime.

“Excuse me,” I said to the woman who had already returned her attention to the paperback novel in her hands. “Are you sure you don’t know Rhonda? It’s really quite urgent.”

“No. Now please let me return to my reading,” she grumbled, then raised her book higher to block me out.

“She’s lying!” Grizabella shouted. “She’s lying!”

I pushed the book down and forced the woman to look me in the eye. “I’m sorry, but if you don’t know Rhonda, then why are you acting so nervous?”

“Nervous?” she asked, then laughed nervously. How convincing. “I’m not nerv—”

“No more lies!” Grizabella cried, jumping right onto the woman’s lap and unleashing a terrible hiss.

“G-G-Grizabella?” the woman stuttered. “What are you—?”

“So you do know her!” I widened my stance to block her into her seat in case she tried to make a run for it. I might be angering a violent criminal, but at least the train car was filled to the brim with witnesses. She wouldn’t be so bold as to try anything in front of them… Would she?

The woman set her book down without even bothering to adjust the bookmark. “What’s the message? Perhaps I can give it to her.”

“It’s really quite urgent. Would you come with me? The conductor’s been searching for anyone connected with Rhonda, because we need your help. Urgently.” Ugh. I needed to keep repeating urgent over and over again like it was some kind of magic passcode.

“But I thought you said you had a message for her?”

“Yes, and for you. Now will you join me, or should I call security?” I didn’t even know if this train had security, but the threat worked to get the woman out of her seat.

I surreptitiously texted my mom and asked her to meet me in the viewing car so we could escort the woman back to Rhonda’s room together. For all I knew, she was the killer and could try to take me out at the first opportunity.

As much as I trusted my cat partners to want to protect me, they were no match for a human with a weapon and a motive. I needed to keep her talking as I walked behind her and guided her toward the sleeper cars. Maybe she hadn’t figured out that I suspected her—or at least not yet.

“I’m Angie,” I explained. “The conductor asked me to keep an eye on Grizabella since I have a cat of my own with me on the train,” I yammered on. I needed to stop going on about the conductor every few minutes, but I didn’t know what the other train people were called and I wanted to sound official.

“Is Rhonda okay?” the woman asked, trying to look back at me over her shoulder as we continued to stumble forward.

“Oh, yes,” I lied, needing to get her somewhere private—and with backup—before sharing the truth. “Thank goodness we found you just in time. Say, how do you know her?”

“Oh, um, well, she’s my sister. Half-sister, actually,” she corrected herself immediately, then added, “We weren’t close.”

“I know how that goes,” I said with a smile in case she looked back again. I was an only child, but I would do anything I could to keep her talking and moving, anything to build up some kind of rapport, seeing as it could just save my life. “What’s your name?”

“Sariah Smith,” she mumbled. “Will this take long?”

“Almost there,” I promised as we finally headed into the viewing car. My mom was already there waiting.

“I know you,” Sariah said, stopping in her tracks and raising a hand to point at my mother. “You’re—”

Mom’s hand shot out in greeting. “Laura Lee, Channel Seven News, serving Blueberry Bay, the great state of Maine, and now the full Northeastern Seaboard.”

“I watch you on the news,” Sariah stuttered. “What are you doing here? Investigating a story?” She glanced back toward the rear exit, but Mom placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

I moved toward the other end of the car, but Sariah didn’t follow.

Mom jumped in to help out. “Yes, I’m investigating a story. And I need to speak with you, if you’ll just come with me.”

“Um, don’t I need to sign a waiver or something?”

“Nope. This one’s off the record. C’mon.” Mom shoved her perhaps a bit too forcibly into the next car.

“Almost there,” I assured her again, practically pulling her as Mom pushed from behind now.

“I don’t think I can—” Sariah grunted. I’d have felt bad had I suspected she was innocent in all of this, but as the cats had said, she reeked of guilt. Even I could practically smell it with my weak human olfactory sense.

“And we’re here,” Mom announced before Dad swung open the door to Rhonda’s room.

Sariah screamed the moment her eyes fell on Rhonda’s dead body. She tried to run, but Mom and I formed a barrier in the doorway, blocking her misguided attempt at escape.

Sariah sobbed, choked, and screamed again. “Oh my gosh, what happened to Rhonda? Help, help, help! Somebody get me out of here!”

“We need to shut her up,” Dad cried as Sariah continued to shout and shove at me and Mom. “What should we do?”

Melvin darted forward, a weapon held at waist height but disguised by his jacket. All I could see was an ominous bulge along with the manic rage splashed across his face, but from the way he postured, I was sure it had to be a gun under there. “Quiet, or I’ll give you a reason to be quiet.”

Oh my gosh, this was wrong on so many levels. A very big part of me wanted to tie Melvin up and stash him somewhere so he couldn’t cause any more problems.

But then Sariah stopped crying and started confessing everything.