Rendell said from the entrance. “This isn’t a scene from one of your novels, Mrs. Fletcher. The man obviously died of natural causes.” Rendell had barged back into the club car he’d abandoned earlier when Blevin first fell ill. I wondered if he’d come to check that Blevin had indeed died.
“You’re probably right,” I said to him, “but wouldn’t it be better to err on the side of caution?”
Bruce agreed with me and the club car was left untouched by the staff. Of course, passengers filing out earlier could have disturbed or even moved items, but that was beyond anyone’s control, certainly mine. I hoped I was wrong about the cause of Alvin Blevin’s death and would gladly acknowledge that I was, should it prove to be so. But my instincts told me Al Blevin’s death was no accident. I even thought I knew the poison which had taken his life. That knowledge didn’t make me happy.
With everyone else gathered in the coach, I stood near Bruce in the club car as he talked on a cell phone with someone from Whistler.
“We don’t know what happened to him,” he said. “It appears he had a heart attack or possibly a stroke. But we”—he glanced at me—“but we decided to not touch anything in the car where it happened.” He placed a finger in his opposite ear from the one to which the phone was pressed, listening to what was being said. “Why?” he said in response. “Because one of our passengers, a Mrs. Fletcher, suggested—well, she isn’t sure the death was the result of natural causes.” After a few additional exchanges, he concluded the conversation and slipped the phone back into his jacket pocket.
“Could I speak with you for a moment?” he asked, escorting me back into the coach. He indicated a place removed from the others. Small groups had formed throughout the car, and people were nervously chattering about what had just occurred.
“Yes?” I said when we’d taken two empty seats.
“Until it’s determined how Mr. Blevin died,” he said, “I’d really appreciate not having the possibility of his being poisoned spread around to other passengers.”
“I understand,” I said. “It’s obviously supposition on my part. It’s just that—”
He interrupted me. “I’m sure you have valid reasons for suspecting poison, Mrs. Fletcher, but from the standpoint of the train and BC Rail, it would be better if—”
I placed a hand on his arm and smiled. “I understand perfectly, Bruce. No more talk of poisoning until the medical folks have their say.”
“Thank you.”
Along with the shock and horror at having someone drop dead in the midst of a party, speculation was rampant in the car, my cautionary remark to Samantha having been overheard and then repeated by Maeve. Since Junior had taken the seat next to his wife where I had sat before, I looked around for an empty space. Reggie patted the chair next to him and I took it.
“Unbelievable,” he said.
“Tragic,” I said.
“I’ll bet people are sorry for all the nasty things they said about Alvin.”
“People express the way they feel, and no one can ever forecast someone’s sudden demise. He appeared to me to be in pretty good physical shape.”
“I thought so, too. Alvin was a health fanatic, aside from having a little too much to drink now and then. He was a jogger and a regular in the gym.”
“Mid fifties?”
“I’m not sure how old he was, but you’re probably about right.” He leaned close. “Do you really think he was poisoned?”
I said in an equally low voice, “I promised Bruce I wouldn’t talk about that until we get to Whistler.”
“Why doesn’t he want you to talk about it?”
“Because he doesn’t want to set people on edge unduly. Besides, he has the railroad’s reputation to protect.”
“It’d be hard to taint BC Rail’s reputation, Jess. It’s one of the best railroads in North America.”
“That may be, Reggie, but—”
I was interrupted by the sudden presence of
“You’re probably right,” I said to him, “but wouldn’t it be better to err on the side of caution?”
Bruce agreed with me and the club car was left untouched by the staff. Of course, passengers filing out earlier could have disturbed or even moved items, but that was beyond anyone’s control, certainly mine. I hoped I was wrong about the cause of Alvin Blevin’s death and would gladly acknowledge that I was, should it prove to be so. But my instincts told me Al Blevin’s death was no accident. I even thought I knew the poison which had taken his life. That knowledge didn’t make me happy.
With everyone else gathered in the coach, I stood near Bruce in the club car as he talked on a cell phone with someone from Whistler.
“We don’t know what happened to him,” he said. “It appears he had a heart attack or possibly a stroke. But we”—he glanced at me—“but we decided to not touch anything in the car where it happened.” He placed a finger in his opposite ear from the one to which the phone was pressed, listening to what was being said. “Why?” he said in response. “Because one of our passengers, a Mrs. Fletcher, suggested—well, she isn’t sure the death was the result of natural causes.” After a few additional exchanges, he concluded the conversation and slipped the phone back into his jacket pocket.
“Could I speak with you for a moment?” he asked, escorting me back into the coach. He indicated a place removed from the others. Small groups had formed throughout the car, and people were nervously chattering about what had just occurred.
“Yes?” I said when we’d taken two empty seats.
“Until it’s determined how Mr. Blevin died,” he said, “I’d really appreciate not having the possibility of his being poisoned spread around to other passengers.”
“I understand,” I said. “It’s obviously supposition on my part. It’s just that—”
He interrupted me. “I’m sure you have valid reasons for suspecting poison, Mrs. Fletcher, but from the standpoint of the train and BC Rail, it would be better if—”
I placed a hand on his arm and smiled. “I understand perfectly, Bruce. No more talk of poisoning until the medical folks have their say.”
“Thank you.”
Along with the shock and horror at having someone drop dead in the midst of a party, speculation was rampant in the car, my cautionary remark to Samantha having been overheard and then repeated by Maeve. Since Junior had taken the seat next to his wife where I had sat before, I looked around for an empty space. Reggie patted the chair next to him and I took it.
“Unbelievable,” he said.
“Tragic,” I said.
“I’ll bet people are sorry for all the nasty things they said about Alvin.”
“People express the way they feel, and no one can ever forecast someone’s sudden demise. He appeared to me to be in pretty good physical shape.”
“I thought so, too. Alvin was a health fanatic, aside from having a little too much to drink now and then. He was a jogger and a regular in the gym.”
“Mid fifties?”
“I’m not sure how old he was, but you’re probably about right.” He leaned close. “Do you really think he was poisoned?”
I said in an equally low voice, “I promised Bruce I wouldn’t talk about that until we get to Whistler.”
“Why doesn’t he want you to talk about it?”
“Because he doesn’t want to set people on edge unduly. Besides, he has the railroad’s reputation to protect.”
“It’d be hard to taint BC Rail’s reputation, Jess. It’s one of the best railroads in North America.”
“That may be, Reggie, but—”
I was interrupted by the sudden presence of
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