The Bogeyman

“Thank you all for meeting me here,” Orville began, unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves. “I know tensions are a little high, but there’s no reason we can’t all be civil for a few minutes.” He swallowed, examining the faces of the other passengers gathered around him. Mrs. Garnett was on the overstuffed sofa, a handkerchief clutched in her lap. Next to her sat Ms. Maeve, cigarette in hand. Dr. Collier was in the armchair to Mrs. Garnett’s left. Arthur sat backwards in the chair by the drafting desk, chin resting on the top rung. 

None of them seemed very happy, and they all looked varying levels of scared. He was pretty sure his own face reflected that. He looked over at Finn, who gave him a thumbs-up and a halfway reassuring smile. 

He sighed and rolled up his sleeves, unable to help a tiny glance at Jack, who was sprawled over a stiff-looking armchair. “After lots of researching, and examining the crime scene, we believe we may have figured out the cause of Mr. Garnett’s death.” 

Eyes widened, eyebrows arched, and there was a small gasp from Mrs. Garnett. It drew a shiver from him, but he wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t from the drafty window behind him. It was Arthur who spoke up first. 

“And what exactly gives you the right to investigate here? This is a job for police, not passengers who don’t even belong here,” he sneered, propping himself up on his elbows. 

Another glance at Finn, who was staring daggers at Arthur. They’d decided on revealing themselves together. It was mutual, and it needed to be done if they were to continue investigating without raising suspicion. Didn’t mean Orville had to like it, though. 

“We’re detectives,” he finally said, raising an arm to include Finn in his statement. Finn waved to their audience, his other hand balancing the pad of paper on his knee. “We’re here by chance, but we’d like to solve this and give you all some peace of mind.”

There was silence from the other passengers, and Orville guessed none of them knew how to react. He looked over at Jack, who had sat up in his chair. They locked eyes, but Orville couldn’t tell what was going through his mind. During their very long conversation the other night, he’d intentionally refrained from telling Jack about his career. It had been a move of caution, to keep both of them safe, but he felt bad about lying. He was the first to break their staring contest, looking towards the worn cream carpet. 

“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Garnett spoke up. “My husband had a heart attack. And as the doctor on board isn’t worth the mud on his boots, it was quite likely Stan wouldn’t make it.” 

“I’ve told you a thousand times, Lydia. I have a doctorate in mathematics. I couldn’t tell you anything about human anatomy.” 

Mrs. Garnett sniffed, and opened her mouth to retort. Before she could, Orville interrupted. 

“Yes, it could’ve been a heart attack, no one is denying it. But we have to look for the cause of it. It could’ve been his age, or the lifestyle he led. It really does seem like he passed from natural causes.” Orville took a breath, clasping his hands behind his back as he began to pace. “Finn and I found a couple things, though, that may point to something more sinister. More unbelievable, really.”

The was again filled with silence, which was only broken by sniffles coming from Mrs. Garnett. Orville felt bad about bringing up her husband’s death, especially with the body still on the train. This needed to be done though, so he pressed on. 

“We’re only assuming it was a heart attack because there are no marks on the body. But Finn and I looked around the Garnett's cabin a little–just routine searching, I promise we didn’t snoop–and found a few things.” He was pacing back and forth in front of the bar, eyes on his feet rather than the people staring at him. He held up his index finger. “First, we found evidence of a struggle. Their luggage was scattered everywhere and there was an end table knocked over.” 

“And how do you know Stan didn’t do that during the heart attack? He was probably scared out of his mind.” Arthur’s tone was icy, like he didn’t believe a word out of Orville’s mouth. 

“That’s for sure a possibility, a strong one. In fact, I hope I’m wrong and it really was just a heart attack.” Across the room, Finn cleared his throat. “Sorry, I hope we’re wrong.” 

“What’s the next thing? Or is your only evidence that the room was trashed?” Of all the people to speak up, Orville really hadn’t guessed one would be Ms. Maeve. But when he looked at her, she seemed almost excited. It was a little frightening. 

“No, we’ve found a couple other things.” He resumed his pacing again, headed back towards the window where he’d started. 

“Well get on with it. What’s with the dramatics?” Jack spoke from where he was sitting in the armchair with his legs crossed. When Orville focused on him, he was grinning. They were still okay, then. That was good. Orville would’ve hated losing him. Especially now.

“Just let me have this,” he quipped back. “The second thing was the soot marks along the floor of the cabin and its door frame. It isn’t really an odd thing, being on a train and all, but it gets weirder.” He paused for effect, and watched Jack roll his eyes. He pressed his lips together to stop a smile. “The soot marks looked exactly like a trail leading to and from the scene. Finn and I went up front to talk to the engineers. To see how that was possible, and what it could mean.” 

He stopped again, the next words getting caught in his throat. He had known it was going to be hard, but thought it would just come right out when he got to it. He’d been wrong. He looked around at all the passengers, the people he’d spent the last couple of days with. He cleared his throat and tried again. 

“The engineers–”

“They were all dead. Every last member of the crew.” Finn interrupted, setting down his pen. “The only ones left are Micah, Sadie, and Javier. There’s no one left to drive the train, and we’re the only ones who know anything bad has happened."