Everyone on This Train Is a Suspect

“I’ll think about it.” I saw Juliette at last, over by the camel rides, talking to Harriet. “I’ve just spotted Juliette, if you’ll excuse me. Oh, and Wyatt has your blue scarf. He’ll give it back to you. Thanks for the chat.”

Simone grabbed my arm as I turned to leave, squeezing it just a little too tightly. “You’re onto a good thing here, Ern, and it’s great to see you thinking and writing again. I’m proud of you. I am. And I want you to write this book. But just, you know, leave me out of it, would you?”

It felt like a demand rather than a favor. I nodded, more out of obligation than agreement, but it seemed to please her.

“Attaboy. Also, if this is going to be a book, you’ll need to spice it up a little. It doesn’t all have to be true. Chuck in some romance. I’ve got that list you gave me on your structure. It seems the trip’s been following it pretty well so far. Setting up all the suspects and their motives is great, but you probably need a little action.” I was surprised she’d even kept my rambling note, let alone was taking it seriously. Her eyes shone with excitement. “What you need, my friend, is a second murder.”

She wasn’t wrong. We are not too far from the sixty-thousand-word mark, which means I am due another body. Not that the real world is beholden to my schematic for writing fiction, but it had, up until now, felt like it was sticking to my desires for this book a little too closely. I chalked it up to cosmic luck.

I turned over Simone’s words in my mind as I waved at Juliette. The box in my pocket rubbed against my leg. I couldn’t summon up another body—in fact, I’d much rather have prevented it—but romance I could do.

Simone had been surprisingly candid; I felt I’d learned a lot about McTavish. What I wouldn’t know until later was that she had just lied to me. Twice.

The Two Mistruths of Simone Morrison, if you will.

Chapter 19

Romance I can do.

I chanted it like a mantra in my head as I marched up to Juliette, until I realized I was so determined that I was literally marching. I tried to turn it into a more casual saunter but just ended up making myself wobbly enough to look saddle-sore.

“Had a few?” Juliette chuckled.

“I spy my husband actually,” Harriet said, in a way that meant she knew we’d argued recently. “Better stop him before he goes the same way.” It was a tactful exit, swiftly made.

That left Juliette and me alone. She’d taken the dress code seriously and looked beautiful in a knee-length orange dress. It was creaseless, carefully hung. We were under the clearest starlit sky I’d ever seen, partway through one of the world’s great rail journeys, in the middle of a natural wonder of a desert. It should have been perfect. Instead, the remnants of our argument hung over us, brighter than the stars. Despite our day at the ravine, I still had yet to actually say I was sorry. I wished I had some marshmallows to keep my hands busy.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.”

Fair enough. She wanted me to earn it.

“What were you talking about?” I nodded back to Harriet.

“Men.”

“Oh. Good things?”

As any shacked-up men reading this will know, sometimes your questions answer themselves.

“I’m sorry if I got carried away,” I said.

She took a deep breath. “If?”

I tried again. “I’m sorry. I got a little carried away.”

“That’ll do.” She smiled, took my hand. Tilted her head back. I followed her lead and we stood for a while, side by side, looking into the night. “And I didn’t mean to be so negative. I’m glad you’re excited. I’m glad you’ve got the potential for another book. But I also want you to be here with me. If you spend too much time looking for clues, you’ll miss the stars.”

“What if the stars are the clues?” I asked.

“You’re right. Sagittarius did it.”

I didn’t know which set of stars was Sagittarius, but I searched for a moment anyway. “I love you, you know that?”

“I do. I love you too.”

My hand felt for the box in my pocket, massaging it through the fabric. “I’m thinking we could spend more time together.”

“This is a nice start.” She thought I was still apologizing for running off and playing detective.

“I meant every day.”

“We’re stuck on a train together. I think we’ll get a lot of each other.”

“Well, we haven’t seen all that much of one another in the first half of the trip.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“I wasn’t talking about . . . Look, I’m trying to say something else. I’d do anything for you.”

“And I’d do anything for you, Ernest. Are you feeling okay?”

“You’re my blip.”

She looked down from the stars and sized me up. “What the hell are you talking about?”

I dropped to one knee. Whether that’s because I didn’t know what else to do or because it was going so badly my balance gave out is still with the jury.

“Oh my God,” she said.

“I know we haven’t really made the most of this trip. I’ve been distracted and we haven’t seen a lot of each other. I couldn’t join you on the gorge excursion, and then I stayed up while you went to bed early . . .” I paused. I’d had a thought.