Paxson sped up. Malcolm looked over his shoulder at the crate. Part of him was relieved to know that his mother’s bizarre last request seemed connected to some real threat, out here in the world. It meant she hadn’t been a madwoman.
But if Maggie hadn’t been insane, then what did her last request really mean? If he couldn’t get her back to Shediak by sunrise two days from now, what were the consequences?
“Faster,” he said, terrified of finding out.
7
According to Malcolm’s wristwatch, their situation was hopeless. They’d never make the train on time. But Pax didn’t give up so easily. He drove the hearse faster than was respectable or even advisable, arriving at the station three minutes prior to their train’s scheduled departure. The train rested at the platform, looming and grumbling, and a few latecomers scurried toward it, ushered aboard by a white-mustached conductor.
The hearse whipped past the station and turned into the train yard. A gate stood partway open, and Pax laid on the horn, the trumpeting of which undermined the somber dignity that typically accompanied the arrival of a hearse.
“This doesn’t bode well,” Violet said, shifting in her seat, uncomfortably trapped between Malcolm and the undertaker.
But Pax honked again, and this time, the gate swung rapidly open. As they drove through, the undercarriage scraping on a dip in the pavement, Malcolm saw the stooped, gray man who had opened the gate. The undertaker waved to him, and the man rubbed his thumb and forefinger together in a pointed statement—he expected money for his services.
“You arranged all of this in advance? The man at the gate, the Irishmen?” Malcolm asked.
“I told you. I didn’t arrange anything; it was all your mother. She left me money to pay whatever it cost. When it’s done, anything left is to be split between you and your brother and sister.”
Violet huffed. “Whatever’s meant to go to Elias, you’d bestgive it to me. He’ll have gambled it away an hour after it’s in his hands.”
“I’ll follow my instructions to the letter,” the undertaker replied, but didn’t say precisely what those instructions had been.
The train shunted forward slightly as the engineer released its brake. Pax swore and hit the horn again as they drove up alongside the train. They raced past the coaches, the dining and lounge cars, then the sleeper cars, before Pax hit the brakes and skidded to a halt beside the baggage car. With its windows, it might have looked like another coach from the outside were it not for the broad sliding door that looked as if it belonged on a freight train.
Three porters stood beside the thrumming train, smoking and laughing together. Pax struck the horn again, and this time, two of the men whipped around in surprise. When they spotted the hearse, realization seemed to dawn on them. One of the porters raised a hand and waved urgently at the engineer, then rushed to the baggage car and unlatched the door.
The other two porters hurried to the back of the hearse while the first slid apart the baggage car’s doors. As Malcolm helped Violet step out, the porters hefted the crate containing his mother’s remains.
“I’ve got you,” Violet said quietly, and Malcolm realized that maybe it was her helping him, rather than the other way around.
Pax turned off the engine and hopped out. “Get your bags.”
Malcolm blinked. Normally he’d have bristled at being told what to do, but in that moment, he was grateful for some direction. He took his valise and Violet’s suitcase out of the back of the hearse. Violet linked arms with him, and they walked toward Pax and the porters, who were arguing.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the younger porter said, “passengers aren’t allowed to ride in the baggage car.”
“We’re going to miss the train!” Violet snapped.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the porter repeated, ignoring her and speaking to Pax. Some men would never give a woman the dignity of a direct reply.
Maggie’s crate had already been loaded into the baggage car. The first porter waved to the engineer again, as if to indicate that the delay had passed and they could get going.
“Hang on!” Malcolm called.
“If you don’t have tickets, you can pay on board, but you’d better—”
Malcolm shook loose of Violet’s arm and darted over to stop the bespectacled porter from closing the sliding door. He pointed at the crate. “That right there is my mother’s body. She’s barely been dead long enough to get cold. If Mr. Keates says we’re cleared to ride with the baggage, then we’re riding with the goddamn baggage.”
“It’s not exactly first class,” Violet added. “We’re not eager.”
“It’s the rules, miss,” the first porter said.
Paxson Keates walked toward him like he was running for mayor. “My friend, I’ve found that there are no rules so firm that a bigger payoff won’t soften them. Now, I’ve paid well for these fine folks to ride in the baggage car instead of the comfort of a sleeper. If we had the time—”
The train whistle shrieked.
“If we had the time,” Pax went on calmly, “your boss would confirm that. Instead, you’ll have to take my word for it.”
