ISN’T THIS DRESSING ROOM CAR normally off-limits?” I asked.
“Yeah, which means one of us must be the thief.” The bootlegger eyed the other actors.
“But who would do such a thing?” the aristocrat asked. “And why?”
“Uh, hmm,” I said. “Good question.”
“Wait!” the flapper called out. “The engineer! I bet he has his phone. Let’s go find him!” In a swish of beads, she pushed past us and yanked down on the door handle leading into the car ahead. It was still locked. “Oh. Right. We can’t reach the front of the train.”
“Is there anyone else up front?” Joe asked.
“Yeah, isn’t there usually a fireman up front on old trains too?” Chet chimed in.
“Not on this old train,” Biff said. “It runs on electricity now.”
“So, it looks like our next step is to check the other three unlocked cars for clues,” I remarked.
I hadn’t noticed that the clerk from the library car had entered the car until he waved. “Did you guys check all the bathrooms?” he asked.
“We checked the two in here.” Joe gestured to the doors at the far end of the car. “Where are the other ones?”
“There are the two in the performance car,” Biff said, wringing his fedora. “That’s it.”
Joe smirked at me. “Why don’t you go check those ones?”
“Sure,” I said. Who wouldn’t want to check out two nasty bathrooms? “Hey, how about you search the dining car while I’m in the performance car, and we meet back in here?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Joe replied.
“Hey!” the bootlegger called, startling us. “What about our phones?”
“And the keys?” the flapper added.
“We’ll look for them, too,” Joe reassured them. “Maybe if we find Trent, we’ll find everything else.” I had to give it to him: Joe also always knew what to say to get an angry mob to cool their jets.
“We’ll stay here until you guys get back,” Biff said. “Promise us one thing, though. Can you try to keep this hush-hush? If word gets out, it could ruin our production.”
The other actors murmured their agreement.
“You got it,” I assured them, shooting Joe a look. He gave a resolute nod.
As we made our way through the troupe, Chet fell into step beside me. “I’m coming with you.” We moved from car to car, nearly crashing into a wall as the train hit a sudden bend.
Joe continued into the dining car, while back in the performance car, the passengers were quietly talking among themselves.
“You check that one,” I whispered to Chet, pointing at one of the bathroom doors. “I’ve got this one.” Inside, I was met with a pungent odor. Considering how grimy the toilet was, it was hard to believe that it had recently been installed. I quickly shut it and turned back to see if Chet was having any more luck than I was.
He gagged as he fanned the air in front of him, letting the door clang shut. “This bathroom reeks!”
“What’s going on, Hardy?” Charlene asked, making me jump.
“Just, uh…” I looked up at the ceiling, which had been carved with an ornate daisy, before settling my focus back on her. “We were looking for someone.” I maneuvered carefully around her.
Chet held his breath beside me and nudged the door back open with his toe. Inside was more or less the same scene I’d witnessed in the bathroom I’d just checked.
“Who are you looking for?” Charlene asked behind us. She was inquisitive, even when she wasn’t reporting on a story for the school paper. It was one of the many things I liked about her. “Listen,” she continued, tapping her pen to her notepad. “I’m writing an article to submit to the Bayport Bugle about the town’s newest attraction in hopes it’ll get picked up. I need to know, is this part of the show? We’re in the dark as it is, but it seems like something’s gone off the rails.”
Chet snickered. “ ‘Off the rails.’ See what you did there, Vale.”
I motioned for Chet to follow me back into the dining car.
“Where are you going now?” Charlene called after us.
“We’ll be right back.”
Inside the dining car, we found Joe lifting the edge of the floor-length tablecloth draped across one of the tables lining either side of the aisle.
“Whatcha up to, Joe?” Chet asked.
“It seems unlikely Trent would be hiding underneath one of these, but we have to check. Who knows what we might find?”
“Hey, what are you looking for? Can I help?” Charlene had appeared in the doorway, and Murph was standing stalwartly at her side. Luckily, I didn’t think they’d caught Joe’s last remark.
“We’re good, but thanks,” I said, moving from table to table. At the end of the plush red carpet stood a door with a sheaf of wheat carved into its dark wood. Locked. Through its window, we stared out the rear of the train car at the strip of track disappearing into darkness. Chet came up beside us.
“Where could he be?” I whispered. “And where is everybody’s stuff?”
“Maybe the vanishing act is part of the show,” Chet mused. “If so, it’s pretty clever. They’ve found a way to stump the Hardys!”
“Hey, we’ve got two hours to go,” Joe said smugly, turning back. “Let’s come up with a game plan with the actors to keep the passengers calm while we continue the search.”
But when we reached the doorway at the other end of the dining car, Charlene blocked our way, her arms folded over her chest. “Frank and Joe Hardy, I’m not moving until you tell Murph and me what’s going on.”
“Yeah, if something’s gone south, we deserve to know,” Murph added.
Chet scowled. “You’re impeding an active investigation, guys.”
“Um, Chet,” I said, patting him on the arm, “you’re really taking this detective-in-training thing and running with it, huh?”
“Don’t you mean ‘chugging along’ with it?” he offered with a wink.
Joe groaned, but couldn’t help breaking into a grin.
As expected, Charlene rolled her eyes. “Oh please. This is amateur hour if I’ve ever seen it.” Still, she pivoted out of the way.
“Sorry,” I whispered to her as I squeezed past. “It’s all kind of hush-hush right now.”
Back in the performance car, it looked like passengers had grown curious and concerned.
“Where’s everyone gone?”
“Is the show over?”
“My grandson’s not feeling well,” the old lady told me, her arm wrapped around a little boy, who was groaning as he cradled his stomach. I wondered if it was one of the fancy desserts he’d eaten earlier.
One of the men in black suits rolled his eyes. “This is the worst wedding anniversary ever.”
His husband glared. “Last time I plan a surprise for you.”
Keeping our heads down, we continued forward to get back to the cast.
“Wait!” Charlene said. “Just… listen. Murph and I are bored out of our minds. We won’t get in your way, Hardys. Let us help.”
I felt myself caving. We were getting nowhere. Maybe they could be useful. “Okay,” I relented. “Could you please keep the passengers calm?”
“No offense, but I didn’t mean babysitting,” replied Charlene.
Murph crossed his arms. “At least tell us what’s going on.”
I leaned in, eyeing Charlene’s notepad. “Fine, but it’s off the record, okay?”
She nodded eagerly, and Murph gave a thumbs-up.
“Between us five, an actor’s gone missing.”
“I knew it!” Charlene pumped her fist. “The detective, right?”
“So much for keeping things hush-hush,” Joe whispered in my ear.
Ignoring him, I glanced over my shoulder. “The keys to the train cars and all the actors’ phones have vanished too. Now, the longer we keep the passengers out of this, the better. Can you make sure they’re in the dark and keep your eyes peeled for anything odd?”
Charlene flashed a smile. “That much we can do.”
Well?” Biff asked once we returned to the dressing room car.
“No Trent. No phones. No keys,” I announced.
“Also,” added Chet, “who knew train bathrooms were just as gross as airplane ones?”
Nobody laughed.
“We’ll keep searching,” Joe reassured the cast. “In the meantime, you should keep on going with the play. Keep the masses settled, you know? Let them think this is all part of the show.”
By now, Joe and I were pretty sure that whatever was happening wasn’t at all part of the show.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Biff said with his signature charming smile.
The rest of the cast seemed to soften at his words.
“As they say, the show must go on,” the aristocrat said meekly. “Shall we?”
The mafia mama put her hands on her hips. “I’m not moving until I have my phone back.”
“These nice young men are on the case,” the milkman replied with a genial smile.
“He’s right,” Biff said. “If anyone can find our phones—and Trent—it’s these guys.”
“Fine,” the mafia mama huffed, though she didn’t look convinced.
Biff flicked his fedora up onto his head. “Let us know if there’s any way we can help.”
“Will do,” Joe and I said in unison.
“Let’s go over what we know,” I said as I led Joe and Chet into the library car and the actors retreated back to what I hoped would be a more convincing performance than we’d seen so far. The gift shop was empty apart from the clerk, who’d resumed his place behind the antique cash register. I caught a name tag pinned to his vest: RAVI PATEL.
I rested a hand on the countertop. “Is it okay we’re in here?”
“Sure. Go for it.”
“Great. Thanks.” I drew out my notebook from my suit jacket pocket, flipped it open, and laid it on the counter. Joe and Chet peered at it over my shoulders. “First things first. Trent. So, who wasn’t around when he went missing?” I clicked my pen and hovered it over the page where I’d listed the eight characters.
“Are we making a suspect list?” Chet asked, wide-eyed. “This is so cool!”
“Something like that. We need a place to start. Maybe we can figure out who saw him last,” I suggested.
Joe planted his finger on gangster. “Well, we know Biff was in the performance car—”
“With the mafia mama, the reporter, and the aristocrat,” I interjected.
He shot me an irritated look. “I was getting there. Let’s rule them out.”
“Done.” I drew Xs next to each of their names.
“Oh! The milkman was in the dining car!” Chet said, jumping up and down.
“Since the dining car’s behind the performance car, it’s safe to assume he didn’t see anything from way back there,” I said.
“Sounds about right to me,” Joe replied.
I placed an X next to the milkman. “Now what about the flapper and the bootlegger? They left the performance car first, then Trent followed them out.”
“They might know something we don’t,” Joe said, nodding thoughtfully.
“Hey, what about—” Chet smile-winced as his eyes locked with the clerk’s.
“Ravi.” He chuckled. “It’s cool. I was in here the whole time.”
“And you didn’t see anything out of the norm?” Joe asked.
“Assuming you’re innocent.” Chet narrowed his eyes. “And honest.”
Joe and I both elbowed him.
“Ouch!” Chet yelled, rubbing his ribs. Served him right.
Ravi leaned against the counter. “Everything was fine. Dudes, no, seriously,” he added when we didn’t look convinced. “I was doing mad reading.” He tapped a thick volume on the counter, open to a black-and-white photo of people hauling wood and pushing heaps of stones in wheelbarrows.
“A bit of light reading?” Chet asked, reaching out to flip through the book’s pages.
Ravi folded his arms. “Yeah. I read. Is that a crime?”
“Was anyone else in here with you?” I asked.
Ravi strummed his thumbs against the countertop, staring off into space.
“What about hat lady in all black and Frank’s crush in purple lace?” Joe asked. “They both got up during the show and came in here.”
I blushed while shooting daggers at Joe. He couldn’t resist making me squirm.
Ravi nodded. “Oh yeah. Them.” I was starting to think he might not be the most reliable source.
“Write that down,” Joe said.
I wrote Two passengers in my notebook, then looked back up at Joe and Chet. “Was there anyone else up and about when Trent went missing?”
“Hey, what about that old guy who got up to use the bathroom?” Chet said.
“Bathroom Man,” I murmured, amending my note.
“Nice going, Morton.” Joe clapped Chet on the back.
“Thanks!” He brightened. “Oh, guys! The engineer! I mean, what if he’s behind it?”
I shrugged. “Unlikely. Who’d be keeping the train running?”
“Fine. Never mind!” Chet said sulkily. “So much for ‘Nice going, Morton.’ ”
“It’s all good!” Joe gave him another pat on the back and the pleased smile once again appeared on Chet’s face. Joe leaned over to give the list another glance. “I think that’s everyone.”
“Okay. Let’s go talk to these folks to find out if they saw anything.”
Chet lifted a finger. “Or to see if they’re possible suspects.” It appeared he was getting the hang of investigating.
Joe checked his watch. “We don’t have much time. Maybe a little under two hours before we’re back at Trainsville. Why don’t we split up? I’ll grab the three passengers and bring them back here for questioning. You go get the two actors—the flapper and the bootlegger.”
“I can get the passengers,” I said quickly, thinking of the girl in the purple lace dress and her sparkling green eyes.
“All right, Frank. Meet you back in”—Joe checked his watch again—“five minutes?”
“Five minutes?” I laughed. “I can have them back here in four.”
“Fine. Four it is,” Joe said. “I’ll time you.”
“I’ll stay here to avoid making too much of a scene,” Chet said before turning to Ravi. “Hey, do you like YouTube? I just rated every pie from Sal’s Diner on my channel. You should subscribe!”
“Ready, Frank?” Joe said. “See you back here in three.”
“Two,” I said, slipping my notebook back into my suit jacket.
“After you. I insist,” Joe said, gesturing ahead. “Besides, you’ll need the head start.”