Murder on the Disoriented Express: The Housetrap Chronicles, #8

BURST Presents

Murder on the Disoriented Express

The Housetrap Chronicles, VIII

By

R. J. Hore

OREGON CITY, OR

USA

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

BURST

www.burstbooks.ca

A Division of Champagne Books

Copyright 2015 by RJ Hore

ISBN 978-1-77155-278-3

April 2017

Cover Art by Ellie Smith

Produced in the USA

Champagne Book Group

PO Box 267

Oregon City, OR 97045

United States of America

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Champagnebooks.com (or a retailer of your choice) and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Other Books by R. J. Hore

Alex In Wanderland

Dark Days

Dark Knights

The Dark Lady

Knight’s Bridge

The Queen’s Pawn

The Queen’s Man

The Queen’s Game

Housetrap

Dial M For Mudder

Hounds Of Basalt Ville

House On Hollow Hill

Menagerie A Trois

Murder At The Rouge Mort

The Treasure Of The Sarah Madder

Dedication

Dedicated to my wife, Barbara, who believes in me, my children and grandchildren who tolerate my quirks, and the Freelancers Workshop for their critiquing. Special thanks to my beta reader, Leia, who marks up the first drafts and my editor, Diane, who has to make sense out of my manuscript. Our cat receives no credit at all for this effort.

One

I make it a rule to dislike elves as a matter of principle. They are treacherous, judgmental, stuck-up, and just plain annoying. So when Bertha opened my inner office door and interrupted my latest ritual of mint-flavored hot chocolate and the morning rag with mildly risqué pictures, I was somewhat aggrieved.

What do you want? I said, without raising my head. "This is my quiet time."

You may go right in, she announced in her sweetest voice.

I glanced up. An attractive elf was in the process of navigating a wheelchair through the doorway. The chair contained an elderly member of that same species who looked like she’d seen a century or three of hard duty. She smiled. Long, almost transparent, hands rested on top of the multi-colored blanket wrapped around her. She balanced a lethal-looking cane on her knees.

Her assistant parked the chair directly across, facing me, and stood behind, all very prim and proper.

I rested my elbows on the top of the desk and formed my fingers into a professional-looking pyramid. How may I be of assistance? I said through clenched teeth.

A gentleman should always stand the first time he meets a lady, the ancient said.

I resisted my natural urge to muse out loud on the facts that I wasn’t a gentleman and lacked current information to comment on her status. Instead, I stood and extended my paw.

Now that wasn’t difficult at all, was it, Randolf? I thought I should meet you before we set out. Taking my hand, she examined my fingers. Your nails are dirty.

And just how is this relevant? I retrieved my fingers and sat. "Before we set out? To where?"

Nails speak to character. Two bright yellow eyes examined me from beneath a mop of close-cropped and probably dyed, coal-black hair. A minor mountain range of wrinkles around those eyes spoke to a life at least partially spent outside.

I’m afraid there has been some misunderstanding. I started to rise and direct the pair toward the door. I’m booked solid for the next month.

Oh, don’t you worry, sonny, she said, smiling through well-reddened, thin lips. Your partner, Miss Wildwater, has confirmed all of the arrangements. I’m probably the reason you are booked up. Meeting you today is simply a pleasant formality.

I swiveled my growing glare on my executive assistant sitting at her desk. She smiled at me through the window and waved. If good help wasn’t so hard to find I should have fired her years ago. I could chastise her severely, but she wouldn’t pay any attention.

I’m afraid there has been a small gap in communications, I said. Do you mind bringing me up to speed? A brief outline will suffice.

The yellow eyes twinkled. My name is Miss Agatha Litchfield. I’m your new employer. This is my niece, Bella Annapolis. She is my ward and one of the Annapolis Royals. We are traveling to the Free Wet Coast where she will be meeting her fiancé. You are accompanying us.

As your bodyguard? I frowned. Why would this pair need protection?

No, of course not. We simply decided having a male accompany us would be useful, in case of heavy lifting.

That made about as much sense as this pair needing a bodyguard. Not that I’m saying I’m going on this expedition, I said, but I’m rather expensive for a laborer. You could hire two hobgoblins for an entire day at half my hourly price.

The smile broadened. I’ve been assured you are well worth it, Randolf.

Now who is making referrals? How are you traveling, by shuttle or dirigible? Not that I was interested.

We booked passage on The Trans Continental Deluxe Rapid Express.

That aged rattletrap hadn’t crossed the entire continent in the last century. Now it was lucky to make the trip from Central City to the coast without incident. And by the sound of things, this pair could well afford to travel first class.

The old steam train? Whatever for? That will take five to seven days depending on stops. An orbital shuttle would get you there in two hours, more or less. A dirigible might take almost as long as the train if there was a severe headwind, but with far fewer stops.

Agatha Litchfield wagged a finger at me. I don’t believe in flying, young’un. Besides, dear Bella has never crossed the prairies or the mountains. Best seen from the ground, not on one of those new fangles.

Her niece laid a hand on the elderly shoulder. Auntie was so gracious in arranging this trip. It’s the last chance for us to spend some quality time together.

I glanced up at Bella for the first time. My initial impression of attractive was well on the mark. Tall and slim, with skin like pale polished porcelain, she had large round eyes that looked as though they could weep tons of tears on cue. Black hair was cropped to just above the shoulder, and thick enough to cover most of those pointed ears. Her outfit, calf-length with long sleeves, was almost too sensible for someone who appeared barely old enough to have graduated from a finishing school.

Bertha was trying to attract my attention through the window. I glanced at her. My half-banshee assistant held up what appeared to be a substantial bag of coins, smiled wide-eyed and pointed at it, nodding eagerly. I assumed that meant the client over-paid. I supposed I could put up with a pair of harmless-looking elves for a week, and it didn’t hurt my private eyeball reputation to be known to be out of town on business once in a while. I guessed I could use some quiet time.

All right, I said, "but there are a few conditions I want to get straight. I am not a nursemaid. I don’t do stuff like bathing clients or changing dirty clothes. I expect proper sleeping accommodations and all meals. I do not want to spend two weeks inside those wheeled wooden coffins. You will pay for my return trip on the shuttle."

Agreed, Agatha said.

I blinked. That was too easy. I should have thrown in a bar tab too. When do we leave?

Tomorrow, at eight in the morning. She held out her hand. A pleasure doing business. We’ll meet you at the station at seven. We will have your ticket and all our necessary travel documents. Good day.

Bella wheeled her out through the office, pausing to chat briefly with Bertha, and then they were gone.

Why did I feel as though the business had just been done to me? Seven? That was an uncharitable hour of the morning to set out. Guess I was in for an early night.

Bertha swirled into my sanctum, smiling like a freshly fed crocodile. Great deal, eh boss? She paid double what I would have charged her, no negotiations or questions asked.

Now why would she do that? My suspicious gene was flickering.

She said you came highly recommended. Trustworthy, honest, and caring. Just the proper person to escort two helpless ladies to the coast. She said you were the only one she would hire. I even offered to go in your place at a reduced price. She wanted you.

I’ve been wanted before. Usually that came with a blurry poster. I also find, as a general rule, helpless ladies were rare. Did she say who recommended me?

No, only it was someone who knows you very well.

That was not a long list. I frowned. Well, if you think you can hold the fort, I’ll head home. Have some packing to do.

Don’t worry. As your partner, the office is in good hands.

You are not my partner. You are my executive assistant. And I sometimes wonder about the wisdom of that.

She patted me on the top of my head. Have a good trip, Randy. Relax and enjoy yourself. You deserve a paid vacation.

I armed myself, made sure I had an extra clip or two for Bess and the rest of the weaponry secured in place about the inside of my jacket, and headed home.

~ * ~

The sky was still dark when I set out for