Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 52, No. 7 & 8, July/August 2007
- Автор: Baldwin Barry, Campbell Melodie
- Год: 2007
- Язык: английский
- Год: Dell Magazines
- ISBN: ISSN:0002-5224
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 52, No. 7 & 8, July/August 2007». Краткое содержание книги:
Corey eyed Miss Parson cautiously, recognizing a dangerous mood but not actually feeling responsible for her temper. “Always,” he offered tentatively before trying to change the subject. “It should be possible to get some food here if you’d like me to.”
“I, for one, would be grateful of it, lad,” Father Murphy announced. “I know you didn’t offer, but I’d appreciate it if you’d help me out.”
“Of course, Father,” Corey agreed.
The priest stood up. “It’s not that I don’t plan to get off the train,” he explained. “It’s just that Jack here,” he indicated his bottle of whiskey, “is starting to look thirsty, and I need to see about filling him back up.”
The priest stepped past Perkins and stopped next to Miss Parson. “Now don’t be too hard on him, lass. That little Miss Davis is after playing games just like that old harpy.”
Miss Parson started to reply, but her eye caught sight of something in the back of the car and she noticeably hesitated. Recovering herself, she forced a smile as she turned toward the priest. “Perhaps you’re right, Father,” she agreed. “But let’s get off the train while we talk about it.” She intertwined her arm with Father Murphy’s and escorted him toward the front of the car.
Looking over her shoulder, Miss Parson called back to Patrick. “Would you remain here with our things, Mr. o’sullivan?” Without waiting for an answer she called out to Corey. “Coming, Mr. Callaghan?” Then she and the priest were through the door.
“If that don’t beat all,” Patrick said. “You invite a woman to travel with you, and the next thing you know she’s giving you orders.”
Corey caught up with Miss Parson and Father Murphy on the platform of Rawlings Station just as they were pushing through the small crowd toward the main building.
“I surely hope I can find a refill for my friend Jack,” Father Murphy was saying.
“You will,” Miss Parson answered. “Just about everything can be found near the railroad.”
“I surely hope you’re right, lass,” the priest replied, as he led the three into the large main room of the station house. A ticket window dominated the wall closest to the rails. One window looked out of the building onto the station platform, while a second looked into the station house. Between the windows was a narrow room that doubled as ticket office and telegraph station. Lieutenant Ridgewood and Miss Davis were already at the front of that window, with the lieutenant shouting angrily at the clerk.
“What do you mean the line east is down?”
Miss Davis clutched at the lieutenant’s sleeve trying to calm the officer. He took no notice of her. Reaching through the window with his right hand he caught the clerk by his collar. “I lost two men in Laramie. What do you mean the line is down?”
“It’s down,” the clerk insisted.
“Well when will it be back up again?” the lieutenant shouted.
“There’s no way to tell, sir,” the clerk explained. “It all depends on where the break is. A repair team will ride toward the break in both directions and fix it when they find it. Service could be restored in as little as an hour or as much as two or more days.”
“An hour?” the lieutenant shouted. “Two days? Oh, this is useless!” He released the clerk and whirled about in disgust. He froze when he saw Corey, Miss Parson, and Father Murphy staring at him, then stormed past them toward the train, trailing Miss Davis behind him.
“That man is having an uncommonly bad run of luck,” Father Murphy observed as they watched the two figures depart. They did not return to the car in which they had been playing poker but went instead to check on the lieutenant’s detachment. There were ten cars on the track behind the engine: a coal car, a freight car, two passenger cars, a baggage car, a third passenger car, three stock cars, and a caboose. Corey and the poker players were riding in the third passenger car. The lieutenant and Miss Davis entered the baggage car ahead of them.
“Well, I’d best be off to find more Jack,” Father Murphy announced. “It doesn’t do for a man to travel without his friend.”
Corey clapped the priest on the shoulder. “We’ll find you a meal, Father.”
As the priest walked away Corey noticed that Miss Parson was still staring through the open doorway at the train. People walked in and out past her, but she ignored them. Corey tried to see what she was looking at. Perkins had gotten off the train and was crossing the platform toward them. Two of the more rugged hands were descending to the platform as they watched. People milled everywhere, but he could see nothing special about anyone.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked Miss Parson.
“I’ve seen that man before,” she answered. Her voice was very low, so that Corey had to strain to hear over the noise of the other people in the station. “I think it was in Tucson. We—”
She broke off talking as Perkins’s large frame filled the doorway. “Evening, Miss Parson, Callaghan,” he greeted them. “If you don’t stop daydreaming you’ll miss your chance to get a meal before the train leaves.”
Miss Parson shook her head back and forth as if suddenly startled from her sleep. “Why hello, Mr. Perkins,” she responded, her voice suddenly warm and cheery. “I guess we were woolgathering. It’s just that Lieutenant Ridgewood seemed so angry when he learned the telegraph lines were down. I think we may lose him from our game.”
“Is that so?” Perkins asked, his expression jovial, except in his tight, narrow eyes. “That would be a shame. It might cost us Miss Davis, too, the way she’s been batting those pretty eyes at him. What do you say, Callaghan? If we lose both players can we count on you to sit in so we can keep playing?” As he spoke he clasped Corey hard on the left shoulder, squeezing the bruises there with his strong right hand. To all outward appearances, it was a gesture of good comradeship, but Corey knew that he was being tested. It was a common enough event in the world of bare-knuckle boxers, and he did not permit himself to wince. Neither would he allow himself to be bullied or intimidated.
“I’m not much for cards,” Corey told Perkins, “but I’ll think on it.”
“Good!” Perkins released Corey’s shoulder and moved deeper into the station.
Corey waited for Perkins to get a few steps away before continuing his conversation with Miss Parson. “You knew Perkins in Tucson?”
“Not Mr. Perkins, Mr. Callaghan.” A hint of exasperation could be heard in Miss Parson’s voice. “Sully, Jim Sully, the rugged-looking man with the crooked nose, sitting toward the rear of our car.”
Corey didn’t point out that there were a number of rugged-looking men on the train. Instead he searched his memory until he believed he had identified the one Miss Parson was mentioning. Sully, if Corey was correct in his identification, was a hard-looking man who had clearly been in a lot of fights. His broken nose and battered cheeks told the story. He might even have spent some time in the ring.
“So what is Sully’s story,” Corey asked.
“The usual,” Miss Parson answered, the hint of a smile on her face. “Cardsharp, liar, thief, bank robber...”
“Oh,” Corey answered, recognizing for the first time in weeks just how much he did not know about Miss Parson.
“Why are you worried about him now? You know I’ll protect you if he tries to bother you.”
Pandora Parson’s face softened for the first time in hours. She entwined her arm in Corey’s and began to guide him deeper into the station. “Mr. Callaghan, you are such a gentleman. I’m not worried about myself — at least not directly. It’s just that when a known gambler doesn’t join a card game on a long, boring train ride, I can’t help but wonder why.”
“Perhaps he was worried you know he’s a cheat.”