“De donde eres?” I asked him. Where you from?
He told me. Someplace in Texas.
I described Parkwood to him. He said he hadn’t seen anyone like that.
“Were you watching?” I asked.
He shook his head warily. “No. This is a pretty boring job. I just read.” He glanced at a stack of comic books.
“Okay, partner,” I said, rising to my feet. “Don’t overdo the potato sticks.”
Ernie and I continued to search the train.
We worked our way through the three rear passenger cars until we reached the dining car. I found the head cook and explained the situation to him; he claimed he’d seen no American man who matched the description I gave him. By now, the conductor had gotten wind of what we were up to, and he joined us. I showed him my badge and explained why we were here. He nodded gravely. They’d already been notified by the KNPs that two American detectives would be on the train.
I asked him if he’d seen anyone who matched Parkwood’s description. He said he couldn’t be sure. There were a number of Americans scattered throughout the train, and he really hadn’t paid much attention. The only Americans who were attracting attention were the tall blonde and the small girl sitting up front in passenger car number two.
“When did you last see them?” I asked in Korean.
“Only five minutes ago,” he replied.
“Are they all right?”
“Fine. Except the little girl doesn’t like guava juice.”
“Can’t blame her for that,” Ernie said, understanding what the conductor said.
We continued to search the train. The bathrooms were located at the end of each car, near the door that led to the open-air walkway. We checked each one. If it was occupied, we lingered until it was vacated, just to make sure that Parkwood wasn’t hiding inside. After all, he’d used a Blue Train bathroom as the venue for his first outrage.
There was no doubt now that we’d passed the summit of the Sobaik Mountains. The train was visibly tilted downward, and at times it swerved to the right and to the left as it navigated treacherous terrain. Rain spattered the windows.
Oh, great, I thought. Just what we need. Another complication.
Finally, we entered Marnie’s car. She and Casey were easy to spot. A patch of blonde and a wisp of brown in the midst of monotonous rows of straight black hair. When we reached her row, I knelt and said hello. Casey’s brown locks were puffed into a curly bouffant. She stared at me with bright, amber-tinted eyes.
“I’ll be damned,” Marnie said. “What are you doing here?”
I tipped an imaginary cowboy hat. “Just providing service, ma’am.”
“You think I can’t take care of myself?”
“I know you can take care of yourself. But the Eighth Army honchos think you’re just a helpless flower of the prairie.”
“‘Flower of the prairie.’ I like that. Make a good country song.”
She twisted in her seat. Ernie, standing in the back, grinned and waved at her.
“Oh God,” Marnie said, rubbing her temples.
“Who’s that, Mommy?” Casey asked.
“Never mind, honey. You boys aren’t going to be hanging around us, are you?”
“No. We’re just walking through the train, doing our routine security check. And when we get to Seoul, we have to escort you to the hotel.”
“Like hell.”
“Eighth Army will provide a sedan.”
“With a driver?”
“The best.”
Marnie Orville didn’t like risking her life in a speeding tin-can taxicab any more than anyone else did.
“In that case,” she said, smiling, “I accept.”
“If you need anything, you just whistle,” I said.
Marnie pointed her forefinger at me as if it were a pistol and winked. “You got it.”
I waved good-bye to Casey. She waved back.
Ernie and I finished checking the passenger cars. No sign of Parkwood. Up ahead, a locked metal door was marked Chulip Kumji. No Admittance. Even on this side, the big engines vibrated.
“Parkwood’s not on the train,” Ernie said.
“Maybe not,” I said. “But we haven’t checked everywhere.”
“Not up here,” Ernie said.
I stared at the locked metal door. “No. And we still need to look at the rear storage compartment. And behind that, there’s a caboose.”
“That’s for the crew, isn’t it? Their break room.”
“Maybe so. I’m not sure. Let’s find out.”
We marched steadily back down the aisles, smiling at Marnie and Casey as we passed. On the way, we policed up the conductor and told him what we wanted. He accompanied us to the rear of the train.
The rain was coming down harder now, and on either side of us rice paddies had started to appear, along with the occasional tile-roofed farmhouse. Taejon wouldn’t be far now.
The conductor led us to the storage compartment. As we entered, two older men in blue smocked uniforms stood to their feet. They were skinny men but wiry, and the conductor spoke to them respectfully, asking if there’d been any foreigners back here during this run. They shook their heads but were cooperative when Ernie and I asked to search the car anyway. Packages and crates were stacked neatly on rows of wooden shelving. Ernie and I checked under and behind them. Nothing. We asked to be shown the caboose. It was empty except for some communications equipment and what the conductor told me was an emergency generator, to be used if the train were ever stranded in a snowy mountain pass and had to create its own electricity. Again, there was no sign of Parkwood. Just to be sure, Ernie stepped out on the rear platform. Once there, he stared at the track behind us, raised both arms in the air, and said, “My friends and fellow Americans!”
“What the hell are you doing, Ernie?”
“Harry Truman started this way, didn’t he?”
“Come on. Let’s check on Marnie.”
Before we reached the dining car, we heard screams. Female screams. Then we were running, and the high-pitched woman’s voice became more distinct. I recognized it immediately.
Marnie Orville.
19
“She’s gone!” Marnie screamed when we reached her car. “Casey’s gone!”
I checked the seat. Marnie was right. No sign of her daughter Casey.
“Calm down,” I said. “Tell me what happened.”
People were standing, kneeling on their seats or milling in the aisles, keeping a respectful distance from the tall, blonde, hysterical woman.
“I went to the bathroom,” Marnie said. “Just for a minute. I tried to take Casey with me, but she refused. Said it was too stinky. She can be stubborn when she wants to be, and I didn’t want her to make a scene. So I left her here and told her not to budge an inch from that seat.”
And then Marnie was crying, her words indecipherable now. I should have warned her that Parkwood might be on the train, but at the time I hadn’t wanted to alarm her. A mistake. But too late now.
I turned to the Korean passengers staring at us. “Did anyone see anything?” I asked in Korean. “Did you see where the little girl went?”
People looked at one another. One woman finally spoke up.
“I think she got out of her seat and went that way.” She pointed toward the front of the train.
“No!” another passenger said vehemently. “She went that way,” she insisted, pointing toward the rear. “I thought she was going to join her mother.”
“Yes.” Many people nodded, agreeing with the second woman, maybe because she was older.
I grabbed Marnie by her shoulders. “Look at me. Was this the first time you’d gone to the bathroom without her?”
Marnie looked away.
“Don’t be ashamed. I need facts.”
“No,” she said. “Casey hated those bathrooms. She didn’t like squatting down over the little toilet in the floor and she didn’t like the fact that they were always out of toilet paper. She wouldn’t go unless she was about to pee in her pants.”
“So she’d been left alone before at some time during this train ride?”