Dead Man's Tunnel (13 page)

“I don't think this was such a good idea,” the lieutenant said, stepping in close to Hook.

“Won't take long,” he said. “You wait here, and I'll check with Harry, the manager.”

“I'm going with you,” she said.

Hook lit a cigarette. “Alright. Have it your way.”

Harry took a final swipe at the bar before looking up.

“Hook,” he said, “I don't want no trouble.”

“I wasn't the one looking for trouble that night, Harry. You know that.”

“Maybe so, but that's Ben Hoffer back there now. His nose don't look so good, and he ain't happy about it.”

“You haven't seen Corporal Thibodeaux, have you, Harry?”

Harry looked over at the lieutenant. “Last time I saw him he had a snoot full.”

“You don't know where we could find him, do you?” she asked. “He's left his post. He's AWOL.”

“No, but then I see enough of these boys without following them home, if you know what I mean.”

“He have his girl with him?” Hook asked.

“She picked him up out front. Most women don't care much for coming into a pool hall, no offense, ma'am.

“Say, I heard that sergeant got himself killed in the tunnel,” he said.

“Human flesh and trains don't mix,” Hook said.

“Jesus,” he said. “Too bad.”

“Thanks, Harry. Sorry about the scuffle.”

When Hook looked up, Harry's face had blanched.

The lieutenant said, “Those men…”

Hook turned to see Ben Hoffer and two of his friends, each with a cue stick, standing between them and the door.

“Harry, take the lieutenant out the back way,” Hook said.

“No,” she said. “I'm staying.”

Hook looked at her. “I'll step in front. When I do, reach under my jacket and take my sidearm. Don't use it unless you have to.”

After she had lifted his gun, Hook walked over to the men. Ben Hoffer stood in the center. His left nostril, red and swollen, sported a half-inch gash where Hook had snared him with his prosthesis. The other two men stepped out to form a semicircle.

“Ben,” Hook said. “Sorry about the misunderstanding the other night.”

Ben's lip curled, and he touched his nose. “I'll bet you are. If you weren't carrying, I'd settle up.”

Hook glanced back to see that the lieutenant had moved to the end of the bar.

He pulled his jacket back. “No weapon, Ben, but why don't we call it even.”

“We'll be even when I tear off your other arm,” he said.

On signal, Ben's running mates lifted their cue sticks and stepped forward.

“I wouldn't do that, boys,” the lieutenant said from behind Hook. “This is a sharpshooter medal you see on this uniform. Now, drop those cue sticks.”

The men looked at each other and then at the lieutenant and then at the barrel of the P.38 she had pointed at them. Their sticks clattered onto the floor.

Ben started to move, but Hook snared his ear and yanked him forward. Ben squealed and danced on his toes. Hook let him loose before clipping him hard across the skull with his prosthesis. Ben dropped to the floor as if shot.

Hook turned to the other men. “Ben can't play no more today, boys.”

*   *   *

Hook and the lieutenant sat in the staff car outside the pool hall. She handed him back his sidearm. Hook lit a cigarette and looked down the street.

“Sorry about the trouble,” he said.

“I can't talk right at the moment,” she said. “Because I can't breathe.”

“The problem is that we don't know any more than when we started,” he said. “I guess it's too late to do more today. Where will you be staying?”

The lieutenant took a handkerchief out of her purse and dabbed at her mouth.

“Motel,” she said. “Out on the highway.”

“How about a nightcap?” he said. “We'll talk this out.”

“A nightcap? Where?”

“My caboose.”

She rocked the steering wheel and looked over at him. “I've had enough trouble for one day,” she said.

“Just so you know, I don't cross lines without an invitation.”

“I've heard
that
before,” she said.

“No more than a drink.”

She looked over at him. “Alright,” she said. “But understand there's nothing personal in this.”

“Understood,” he said. “By the way, is that really a sharpshooter medal?”

She lifted her lapel and looked at it. “Good conduct,” she said. “It took three cycles before I finally qualified on the rifle range.”

 

16

M
IXER GREETED THEM
at the steps of the caboose, and the lieutenant stooped to pat his head.

“What's that smell?” she asked.

“Mixer favors skunk. One time he worked six hours digging one from under a stack of ties. He came home with his eyes watering and his nose running, but I never saw a happier dog.”

“There's no accounting for taste,” she said.

Hook lit the lantern and pointed her to a seat. “That's a fact,” he said. “I've known a few folks who couldn't tell from a skunk either.”

The lieutenant went through the stack of books that were piled on the table.

“Speaking of odd behavior,” she said. “What about these?”

Hook took glasses from the cabinet. Poured her a Beam and water and handed it to her.

“No ice,” he said. “Sorry.”

“It's fine,” she said.

“Not everything a man does has to make sense, you know. I knew a fellow once who collected rail spikes.”

“How did this all start?”

“I worked as a hobo before I took this job,” he said. “The pay wasn't that good, so going out to restaurants and movies and taking overnight trips on my yacht didn't work out so well. I spent a lot of time in local libraries. They're warm, you know, and free. No one there to bother you. I did a lot of reading, and I could always catch a snooze in the Daughters of the American Revolution section. They usually provide an easy chair, and the references are rarely used.”

“So one thing led to another?” she said.

“In a thrift, I could get a sack of books for a dime. I branched out best I could, but collecting is a rich man's game. Still, rare books can crop up about anywhere, so even a bo gets lucky once in a while.”

“You don't strike me as the studious type,” she said.

“You could ask any of my old teachers about that, I guess, but I've always been curious. Maybe that's why I like being a yard dog.”

“So what kinds of books do you read?”

“Big ones,” he said.

She picked one of the books up and studied it. “Are these of value?”

“I suppose a man could sell them, but no real collector is willing to part with his books unless he's trading up. I've never been tempted to sell, but I
have
been tempted to steal.”

She took a sip of her drink. “Good,” she said, running her finger around the rim of the glass. “Has anyone ever told you that you're a little eccentric?”

“One time a bo in El Paso said I had book madness. He was right about that, I guess. But then he made the mistake of trying to start a fire with one of my books.”

He looked up at her. “Now, I have a question for you, Lieutenant.”

“Go ahead.”

“You're with the army's Department of Transportation?”

“That's right.”

“And those guards at the tunnel are, too?”

“Yes.”

“Why isn't the military police in charge of security out there?”

The lieutenant pushed her drink to the side. Her hands were small and free of the abuse manual labor can inflict.

“My commander says that if he's the one responsible for transportation, which he is, then he has to be the one who controls its security.”

She took another sip of her drink. “But aren't you really asking why they would send a woman instead of a man?”

Hook reached for a cigarette. “Hadn't crossed my mind,” he said.

Just then a knock came at the door, and Mixer's hackles rose.

“Who is it?” Hook asked.

“Eisenhower,” Scrap said. “Who do you think?”

Hook got up and opened the door. “What is it you want?”

Scrap took a moment to check out the lieutenant. “Beg your pardon. I didn't know Hook had company.”

“This is Lieutenant Capron,” Hook said. “She's handling the tunnel security.”

“Hello, Ike,” she said.

Scrap pushed his hat back, revealing a line of smoke and grime across his forehead.

“Name's Scrap West, Lieutenant. I don't mean to frighten you, ma'am,” he said. “But some folks might think this is just a caboose and safe enough for having a drink and such. But they'd be mistaken.”

“Oh?” she said. “What do you mean?”

“This here is a spider's web.”

“A spider's web?” she said.

“Occupied by a one-armed spider.”

“Scrap,” Hook said. “Are you here to scare away my company?”

Scrap took out his pipe and knocked it against the palm of his hand. His nails were black from the day's work.

“Doing my civil duty's all,” he said, grinning.

“Anyway, that division supervisor called on my phone again. He wants to talk to you. I says to him, ‘Hell, I'd be glad to go get him. Why would I mind setting aside my work and walking up to Hook Runyon's spiderweb, given all the copper thieves he's caught for me?'”

“Thanks, Scrap.”

Scrap turned. “Now, Lieutenant, I'd hit the road and not look back if I were you.”

The lieutenant smiled. “Thanks for the warning, Scrap. I'll stay on my guard.”

“Well,” he said. “I've done my duty.”

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” Hook said. “I'll be back in a minute.”

*   *   *

At the office, Hook dialed Division and lit up a cigarette.

“Security,” Eddie said.

“Eddie, Hook Runyon.”

“Runyon, I got a problem.”

“Eat more fruit, Eddie.”

“Maybe you can get a job as a comedian, Runyon, because your current employment is hanging in the balance.”

“I forget about your keen sense of humor, Eddie. What's going on?”

“Someone waylaid an engineer on that siding just west of Williams. They lifted his wallet, and he's in the hospital with a headache.”

“Do they know who did it?”

“That's what yard dogs are for, Runyon, to find out who did it. You think I called to make nice?”

“That hadn't occurred to me, Eddie.”

“Get over to that hospital and see if you can come up with anything.”

“Engineers don't have much to say even without a headache, Eddie.”

“Just stick to the facts for once, Runyon.”

“What about that other thing?” Hook asked.

“The orphanage?”

“Yeah, that.”

“It's off. I guess they figured every rubber in use could mean one less atheist in the world.”

“That's real sensitive, Eddie.”

“But that popcar is a different situation. Leaving one on the main line is a serious infringement of the rules.”

“I was rounding up copper thieves at the time, Eddie.”

“They said you signed out for the popcar, that it had been abandoned on the main line and could have resulted in a derailment, which in turn would have cost the company a lot of money.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That it wasn't the first time.”

“Thanks for the support, Eddie.”

“You know how I feel about you, Runyon.”

“Yeah, I feel the same way about you.”

After he'd hung up, Hook lit another cigarette and sat in the darkness. He laid his cigarette in the hubcap and called the operator in Ash Fork.

“Hook Runyon here. Did those guards out at the Johnson Canyon Tunnel check the board tonight?”

“Two calls came in,” the operator said.

“Two?” Hook said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Guess they are a little worked up about that sergeant's death out there.”

*   *   *

The lieutenant sat with her chin in her hand as Hook told her what Eddie had said about the engineer getting robbed.

“I think someone other than the new guards at the tunnel has been checking the train schedule,” Hook said.

“Who?”

“Could be Corporal Thibodeaux.”

“Thibodeaux? Why do you say that?”

“That's a remote siding out there at Williams. Whoever robbed that engineer must have had some idea that he would be there.”

“By calling in?”

“Exactly. Thibodeaux knows the system,” he said. “One call and he's got all the information he needs to be waiting at the right siding at the right time.”

The lieutenant walked to the door. “Seems like a lot of trouble just to lift a wallet.”

“Not much chance of anyone catching them that far out in the country.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“Division wants the engineer questioned. I'll wait until morning to go over. Right now he's nursing a pretty big headache.”

“Look,” she said, “I'll be going back to the base tomorrow. Why don't you ride over with me? I want to be in on the questioning.”

“Well,” he said. “I don't know. It's really a railroad matter, given it took place on railroad property.”

“If the corporal's involved, I need to be there.”

“I guess I could catch a train back.”

“Good. I'll see you in the morning then.”

“Another drink?” he asked.

She picked up her purse and opened the door. “Said the spider to the fly.”

 

17

L
IEUTENANT CAPRON, WEARING
her uniform, picked him up just as the morning sun lit the sky.