Train Ride to Murder: Train Ride to Murder

By Wallace Maison

Whether you sympathize with the victim or the murderer, each of these short stories has a crime that must be solved before the next stop on the northbound California train. 

 

Read these stories separately or in this one boxed set.

•     The Man Dressed In Black
•     The Unwanted Passenger
•     The Yellow Diamond Ring  
•     The Martyr's Strange Course & Epilogue

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wallace Maison
• Release date: Sep 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393974192

Book preview

Train Ride to Murder

Four Short Mysteries & Epilogue

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Wallace Maison

Acknowledgememt/Disclaimers

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Copyright © 2020 by Wallace Maison

Cover Design by:

rockingbookcovers.com

Map Illustrated by Zakarias Osterling

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

www.wallacemaison.com

Publisher's Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Train Ride to Murder / Wallace Maison

Table of Contents

Title Page

Acknowledgement/Disclaimer

Table of Contents

Train Route Map

The Man Dressed in Black

The Unwanted Passenger

The Yellow Diamond Ring

The Martyr's Strange Course

Epilogue

About & Contact

Train Route Map

The Man Dressed in Black

Story 1

Two men, almost opposite in dress and character, sat across from one another in coach class on the coastal train, which was speeding northward from Los Angeles.

The first, a heavyset gentleman with a fleshy complexion and bloodshot eyes, who seemed not to notice the agricultural fields or the distant mountains that flowed passed his window, rested his large jowled chin on the upper part of his chest and caught his breath. As if his large body wasn't enough to draw attention to him, he wore a flashy striped suit, which included a vest and a garish purple spotted tie, the right length, but garish nevertheless. After this pause regained him his vocal strength, a continual spittle of words flew from his lips as his dark gray eyes glanced across the narrow foot space at the passenger sitting opposite him. The second was an average-build man, but dressed in an odd fashion. He was completely dressed in black: shirt, tie, slacks, shoes. Even his hair and little mustache were black.

So you haven't been to the Bellagio casino? the heavyset man sputtered.

No, of course not, came the sharp reply.

I like their poker tables. How about that place down the strip?

He said nothing this time.

That place had such memories. Their wheels were tilted at one time, so that's what I hear, anyway. I only have one question: which ones were they? Hah, hah, he laughed, and smirked to himself.

The man dressed in black scowled with disgust and drew back. He folded his arms across his chest like a mummy wrapped in a black shroud and fixed his eyes on the loquacious man, as if examining every flashy stripe on the suit. And then, in an unexpected move, he jerked forward, reached across the seat and adjusted the heavy-set man's tie.

Get away, he said, slapping at the uninvited hands.

If you're going to wear a tie that gaudy, at least make sure it's straight.

Oh, please, he said, and out of defiance he loosened up the tie knot and undid the top button. There! he said. Live with it. Soon, his jolly nature returned, and he was as talkative as before.

A woman entered from the other end of the car. Casually dressed in a loose blouse and blue jeans, she walked in a steady pace down the aisle. The heavy-set man followed her approach with his eyes while the other man looked only when she passed.

I could tell you about some days... the larger man said. His voice trailed off as if he were waiting for her to reappear.

Don't you get it? Just be quiet. the man in black said.

Even the man who sat behind them bobbed his head up for a look.

The heavy-set man finally gave up waiting for the woman and turned back. What time is it anyway? he asked. What time does the bar open? He shook his left sleeve, causing his coat to slip down enough to expose the dial on his watch, a fancy Versace gold watch that had more hands spinning around than minutes to count.

This had all been observed by one Mr. Greene, who had been sitting across the aisle listening to the conversations of these passengers since the train had left the Union Station in Los Angeles.

During this time, Mr. Greene had learned both men's names: Cedric was the outspoken heavy-set man, and the other was Frank. Mr. Greene had seen the wristwatch only for a moment, but he doubted it was a real Versace. Not that Cedric couldn't afford a Versace—he had an air of wealth around him—but he didn't appear to have the discerning taste required to select one from a display counter filled with other shiny baubles.

Mr. Greene wasn't sure who the man was sitting behind Cedric, the one who occasionally bumped his head against the back of Cedric's seat when he leaned forward. In spite of being dressed in a yellow polo shirt and tan khaki slacks, the man had a neatly trimmed professional look.

Mr. Greene also did not know the woman who had just passed in such a determined manner. This unknown woman, appearing to be in her early thirties, had developed a pattern of intently going from one end of the train car to the other end and then exiting out the door to the next train car, as if she were on a hike. The dining car and the observation decks were in either direction. And then, as time clicked thru another ten minutes, she reappeared again in a flutter of fabric and continued her hiking journey in the next car.

On such a return trip, Cedric reached out and grabbed her wrist. Come sit with me, lovely, he coaxed, and pulled her into the seat next to him. Spend a few minutes here. We can talk.

This jostling her onto the cushion disturbed the man sitting behind Cedric.

Frank rolled his eyes and shook his head disapprovingly. Here we go again, he mumbled to himself.

The woman glanced at Frank and smiled as if sharing her sympathy. After a quick check of her watch, she said to Cedric cheerfully: I really have to get my two miles in.

Cedric laughed at her comment. Let the train do the walking for you.

Mr. Greene noticed that the watch on her lightly tanned wrist was really a pedometer and no doubt kept track of other vital statistics.

Despite Cedric's flirtatious gestures, she welcomed the opportunity to relax. She caught her breath and patted her cheeks, as if to soothe her flushed skin tone.

Have you ever been to Las Vegas? Cedric asked.

I don't gamble, she replied.

What a pity. I could show you around the roulette table. I'm pretty good at it, you know? And at cards. Poker and such. Sometimes I'm so good people want to pay me. If I had a deck of cards, I'd show you a trick.

The woman laughed, and Frank sighed, Oh, my God. He crossed a leg over his knee and turned to the window. He did his best to ignore the conversation.

Does this lovely little trotter have a name?

Paula.

Paula, Paula. I feel like I'm at the casino now: I have such a strong urge to buy you a drink. I buy all the pretty women drinks.

She smiled politely and shook her head. No, no, she replied, holding up her hands.

Cedric leaned over and whispered, I have something to show you. Perhaps you'll even change your mind about casinos.

Although Mr. Greene was not a gambling man, the subject did interest him, and he leaned forward in his seat to better hear the conversation.

After Cedric whispered in Paula's ear, she responded, That much? Cedric smiled as he patted his suit coat. There's ten here and there's tenCnot counting the small change.

Mr. Greene smiled also and leaned back against the headrest.

At that moment, the yellow-polo man shirt who sat behind Cedric, lunged forward