Death on the Valley Rattler

By Raymond Boyd Dunn

The Mary Valley Rattler (or ‘The Valley Rattler’), is a tourist train which runs through the Mary River Valley in Queensland, from Gympie to the small country town of Imbil. It is a restored C17 class, steam locomotive which originally ran in the early 1920s. The tour is conducted by the Mary Valley Heritage Railway, a not-for-profit organisation, with a few paid workers assisted by many volunteers. It is the third largest heritage railway in Australia.
This is a fictional story about a crime committed during one of the tours. Once again, the Sunshine Coast’s favourite private eye assists in solving the mystery of the ‘Death on the Valley Rattler’.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raymond Boyd Dunn
• Release date: Jan 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310906404

Raymond Boyd Dunn

Raymond Boyd Dunn is a "born and bred" third generation Australian. After his retirement Raymond Boyd became a grey nomad, and, with his wife, spent some time touring this vast country of Australia. He was born in the small Burnett Valley town of Monto, Queensland, and for his entire life has answered to the name of 'Boyd'. Apart from his travels he has lived all of his life in Queensland, and after satisfying his thirst for seeing first hand this wonderful country we live in, settled on the Sunshine Coast to spend his remaining years in the sunshine near the beach.He commenced his working life as a Bank Officer and resigned after thirteen years to become self-employed. At various stages he has owned a Corner Store, a small Supermarket Chain, a Butchery, a Milk Run, a Printery and a Cattle and Grain Farm. He has been involved, in various capacities, in Cricket and Tennis Clubs; Jaycees, Lions and Rotary Clubs and Aero Clubs. He was a Cricketer, played tennis, tried to play golf, and was a keen long distance runner.Upon taking a well-earned retirement he wrote his unpublished autobiography, which was for distribution among his family of six children and numerous grand-children. A visit to Cooktown, where he learnt of the Palmer River Gold Rush, was the incentive to keep writing and produce his first novel 'Palmer Gold' He then settled down to write novels, producing two more books to complete a Trilogy...'An Australian Ranch' and "Carly and Sam...Will and Effie'. There followed numerous short stories, and other novels: 'Lord of the Manor in Australia', and 'The Vintage Years'. He continues to write whilst enjoying life in the sunshine on the beautiful Sunshine Coast in Queensland.

Book preview

Death on the Valley Rattler

Maxwell Marlowe, Private Eye No. 8

By Raymond Boyd Dunn

Copyright 2014 Raymond Dunn

Smashwords Edition

Because this book is classified as ‘Australiana’ genre, the Australian author has checked all spelling with the Heinemann Australian Dictionary.

The Mary Valley Rattler

The Mary Valley Rattler (or ‘The Valley Rattler’), is a tourist train which runs through the Mary River Valley in Queensland, from Gympie to the small country town of Imbil. It is a restored C17 class, steam locomotive which originally ran in the early 1920s. The tour is conducted by the Mary Valley Heritage Railway, a not-for-profit organisation, with a few paid workers assisted by many volunteers. It is the third largest heritage railway in Australia.

The following is a fictional story about a crime committed during one of the tours. Once again, the Sunshine Coast’s favourite private eye assists in solving the mystery of the ‘Death on the Valley Rattler’.

Prologue

I awoke in a panic when I realised it was daylight. I should have been well on the way home by now! But wait! This was my own bed, and I was home! Movement in the glorious naked body lying next to me drew my attention, and everything came flooding back to me. I was not only in my own bed, lying beside a beautiful woman, and there was no need for me to make a hasty departure before the neighbours were astir, because I had every right to be there. You see, the woman was my wife! Yes! My wife!

‘Wife!’ I hear you exclaim. ‘You’re a private eye, Maxwell Marlowe, and private detectives don’t get married! Do they?’

Well, they don’t normally ─ at least, my venture into matrimony is the first I’ve ever heard about. Private eyes are notorious for their perfidy in amorous relationships.

It was going to take me a long time to get used to my new marital status!

…..

Chapter 1

(Six months earlier.)

Don’t forget to take your key, Phil, said Sandra, before I could don my Akubra as I made my way towards the front door.

I was just about to get it, I lied, as I made an about face, holding the felt hat over my heart.

No, you weren’t, she said. I’ll bet you don’t even know where it is!

Of course, I do. It’s -er, -er…

It had been so long since I needed it, I didn’t have a clue where it could be. The key that my flatmate was referring to was the front door key of my Detective Agency in a side street off Aerodrome Road in Maroochydore. The reason it was such a long time since I needed it was because of my super-reliable Secretary, Dorothy Smith, the recently acquired wife of a good friend of mine, Detective Sergeant Jimmy Smith of the Maroochydore Police Service. Doss was always at the office at 8:30am, whereas I could turn up at any time within the next hour or so. On this particular day she was returning to work after a three-week honeymoon, and the key used by her temporary replacement would be locked inside the office.

As you already know, my name is Maxwell Marlowe. Why did she call me ‘Phil’? Because Raymond Chandler’s super Private Eye, Philip Marlowe, and I answer to the same surname, and I am also a (I nearly said ‘super’) Private Detective; therefore all my friends call me ‘Phil’. Well, all except for my girlfriend, Georgina,

to whom I introduced myself as ‘Maxwell Marlowe’ when I was trying to locate her missing friend. She started to call me ‘Max’ when we became friendlier, and has continued to do so ever since.

For a place to call home, and somewhere to keep my things, and where I visited occasionally, I have the lease of a duplex unit in a back street of Maroochydore, and I had, at the time, two flatmates: Sandra and Charlene.

I drive a white 2003 model VY Commodore sedan, in which I have to spend only ten or fifteen minutes driving to work, depending on the traffic. I have an arrangement with an old Queenslander-style house owner, whereby he gets the benefit of a few tax-free dollars, and I’m not kept poor with parking fines ─ I park under his home, which is only a few doors down the road from my office. I said ‘old’, and I meant both the home and the home-owner!

Before you ask the question: ‘Why do I drive a Family car, and not a sleek roadster or some such vehicle more in line with the image most people have of super sleuths?’ I’d better explain. First and foremost, the vehicle doesn’t draw attention, which is handy in my line of work. Secondly and foremost, it was given to me by my father when he upgraded to a model more in keeping with the image he was trying to create when looking for another wife. It must have worked for him, because I recently became a step-son to my fourth mother ─ who, incidentally, is barely older than I am.

Well, that should give you an idea of who I am and what I do for a living, so back to Sandra and my attempt to set out to go to work.

You can stop your um-ing and ar-ing. You don’t know where it is, do you?

Of course, I do. It’s hanging up in my room… I think.

How that poor Secretary of yours puts up with you, I don’t know. She’s probably been waiting for you to turn up for the last half hour.

Is it that late already? I said, as I hurried into my room, fully expecting not to be able to find the key. But miracle of miracles, there it was! Exactly where I had hoped it would be. Usually, when I am looking for something, and am not confident of finding it, it can be right before