Serge paced and scanned faces. “Preston had accumulated quite an impressive list of enemies…”
“You!” he yelled, spinning and pointing at Dee Dee Lowenstein, holding a fruit hat in her lap. “Dozens of people heard you threaten Preston’s life.”
“I didn’t mean it. It was just a stupid banana.”
“You had motive and opportunity. People saw you near Preston when we went in the tunnel…. But you weren’t the only one.” Serge resumed pacing, looking people in the eye. He spun again.
“You’re the one they call Spider! He humiliated you time and time again!…And you, Frankie Chan. He almost got you killed in Bridgeport!”
“But we didn’t murder him!”
Serge nodded thoughtfully. He took a few more steps and stopped in front of the BBB.
“What are you looking at us for?” said Sam.
“You know why. You
“What are you talking about?”
“The brochure for the mystery train that first got you interested in the trip — the name of one of the celebrity guests caught your attention.”
Teresa nodded. “Ralph Krunkleton. We love his books.”
“That’s what you’d like us to believe,” said Serge, then raised his voice dramatically: “But in fact the person you came to see was not Ralph Krunkleton at all, but Preston Lancaster!”
The women recoiled in their seats.
“Why would we want to see him?” said Maria.
“Because he got all of you pregnant at the University of Florida twenty-five years ago before fleeing to Nevada.
The women were speechless.
“That’s how all of you got together in the first place!” said Serge. “It’s the common factor that explains why a club would consist of such completely different — though unquestionably lovely — personalities.”
“That’s crazy!” scoffed Teresa.
“Is it?” said Serge.
“Where’d you get such a ridiculous idea?” said Rebecca.
“Sam talks in her sleep.”
Four heads turned. “Sam!”
“I didn’t know I talked in my sleep.”
“We never intended to kill him!” said Rebecca. “We were just planning to confront him after all these years and embarrass him publicly. Sam wanted to kick him in the nuts, but that was it! I swear!”
“Maybe that was the plan, but when he picked you for hypnosis volunteers, everything went haywire,” said Serge. “You never expected that, did you? But you had to go through with it or he’d get suspicious. And guess what, Rebecca? He did it to you
“But not mad enough to commit murder!”
Serge walked away from the women, back to the center of the car. “So we have a whole roomful of people who had a bone to pick with Preston — all with ample opportunity. The question is, which one of you acted on that opportunity?”
A chorus of denials filled the overturned train car.
The train lurched another foot. Everyone shut up and grabbed something for balance. They waited a moment until they were sure it had stopped.
“All your protests will be moot in a few moments,” said Serge. “I have irrefutable proof as to the identity of the killer.”
Heads looked back and forth; suspicion everywhere. Serge walked to one of the passengers with a camcorder, the same one who had taped the hypnosis show with the BBB.
“May I?” asked Serge.
The man handed over the videocamera.
“You were filming when we went into the tunnel, is that not true?”
“Yes, but I wasn’t filming Preston — I was shooting out the window at the two guys on horseback. Besides, it was completely dark in the tunnel.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Serge. “All we need is sound.”
Serge rewound the tape, turned up the volume and hit
“Here they come,” said Serge, the Russian and the Jamaican approaching the train on the monitor. “And here’s where they jump to the train…and now the critical part…”
Serge turned the volume way up. “Listen carefully.”
Nobody made a sound; the screen went black.
Serge turned off the camcorder. “And there you have it!”
Everyone looked puzzled. “There we have what?” said Spider.
“The identity of the killer,” said Serge. “My guess is someone planted a hypnotic suggestion to get rid of his hiccups. He was probably given instructions for his soul to leave his body and take the hiccups with him. He had a heart attack, just like in 1894, when that hypnotist accidentally killed his assistant onstage the same way.”
“That’s right,” said Frankie Chan. “Preston talked about that case all the time back in Reno. He swore it was true.”
Serge addressed the whole car: “Find the person who hypnotized Preston to get rid of his hiccups, and you’ve got your killer.”
“But that was you,” said Frankie. “I heard you. I was sitting right there.”
“I guess that settles it,” said Serge. “It was me.”
“Bullshit,” said Andy. “You can’t hypnotize someone to death!”
“I also sort of broke his neck, just to be careful,” said Serge. “But I’m sure it was the hypnosis. I’m getting pretty good at it.”
The BBB stared at him in disbelief. “But why?” asked Sam.
