Read Online Murder on the Orient Espresso by Sandra Balzo - Free Book Online Page A

were in the Everglades, nobody would be able to appreciate the legend on the banner. And I didn’t think the alligators and pythons – whether they were Burmese or African rock – would need help identifying us as boxed-car lunches. Or dinners, adjusting for the time of day.
    â€˜I have to take tickets,’ Missy was saying through the open window, ‘and hand these out.’
    She held up a playbill, sepia-toned, so as to seem older. ‘See? The cast of characters is on this side and,’ flipping it, ‘here’s the diagram of the train.’
    I took the playbill through the window. ‘Very clever. If I remember right, the book had a diagram, too.’
    â€˜Correct. I’m not sure how readers could have kept the plot straight without a cheat sheet. Our diagram shows this little train, of course, not Christie’s Orient Express. I’ve put “Murder on the Orient Espresso” here, see? I think the playbill will make a nice keepsake, don’t you?’
    â€˜I do,’ I said honestly. Missy had pulled out all the stops to make tonight a success. I hoped, for her sake, people took notice. I offered the playbill back to her.
    â€˜No, no – you can have the very first one.’
    â€˜Thank you.’ I smiled and tucked the souvenir in my non-python skin handbag. For the first time in a long while, I had a hankering to do events again. Even if you’re not on Broadway, opening night of anything presented to the public is a rush. ‘But can I help you with the tickets and all?’
    â€˜Oh, no, I’ll be fine.’ Missy said, waving me off. ‘But thank you so much and please – after you close this window – do mingle and enjoy yourself. These are fun people. And, who knows? Maybe by the end of the weekend you’ll decide to kill someone.’
    My face must have betrayed my thought.
    Missy Hudson giggled, suddenly realizing. ‘Fictionally, of course!’

SEVEN
    M aking my way up to the front of the train, I found Pavlik already in the dining car, sitting in one of the C-shaped booths. Zoe, naturally, was butt-to-buns next to him.
    â€˜Join us,’ he said, waving me to slide in on his other side.
    I was about to when I noticed that they both had drinks in front of them. ‘Wait, where’d you get the wine?’
    â€˜There’s a bar next door to the station,’ Pavlik said. ‘I’m sorry – did you want a glass?’
    Did I want a glass of wine? Exactly how long had this man known me?
    â€˜Not a problem,’ I fibbed. ‘Do I still have time to hop off and get myself one?’
    â€˜Certainly,’ Zoe said, before turning back to Pavlik and ignoring me. ‘That’s fascinating. As county sheriff—’
    I didn’t bother to hear more, despite my fascination with her sucking up. Instead I tried to thread my way to the nearest exit through the gaggle of people still boarding.
    â€˜You’re not helping things, swimming against the tide like that,’ Princess Dragomiroff, aka Prudence said. She was pushing up the bracelets on her sleeves like she wanted to sock someone. I hoped it wasn’t me.
    â€˜I’m sorry.’ I gave up and allowed myself to go with the flow. ‘I just wanted to jump off and grab a glass of wine before we leave.’
    â€˜I wouldn’t chance it if I were you,’ Prudence said. ‘Zoe told me we were leaving at precisely eight p.m. and it’s just past that now. Once they fire up this baby, anyone not onboard will be left behind.’
    â€˜But she’s the one who told me I had time,’ I protested.
    â€˜I’ll bet she did.’ Prudence nodded toward the booth where Pavlik and Zoe still sat, heads together. ‘The bar in the club car just opened and if I were you, I’d get whatever crap they’re serving and hightail it back before our host inhales that sheriff of yours alive.’
    I decided to