Strangers on a Train (Nancy Drew Diaries #2)(5)

Come to think of it, I wasn’t sure I wanted to raise Scott’s suspicions either. Becca and Captain Peterson were still the only two people on the ship who knew why my friends and I were really there. And I wanted to keep it that way. I’d already come close to blowing my cover with Scott back in Ketchikan. I’d seen him sneak out of a tourist show to meet with a seedy-looking guy with a big scar on his face. That had made me suspicious enough to tail him through town, but he’d caught me following him—right as he’d met up with another tough-looking man and handed over a wad of cash. He hadn’t been happy about seeing me, since he’d explained he was paying off some gambling debts, which could get him in trouble if the captain found out about them.

I sighed, rubbing my face and stifling a yawn. I hadn’t had enough sleep last night, and it was making it hard to focus. Besides, there wasn’t much I could do to find out more about the firing right now. I’d just have to ask Becca about it later.





******





"Smile!” Alan sang out, snapping another picture.

I forced a smile. Bess, George, and I were posing in front of a big black-and-red train car on display in a little park. A sign explained that it was a rotary snowplow, built in 1899 to clear Alaska’s heavy snows off the tracks.

After Alan took a couple of more photos, Bess checked her watch. "Hey, does anyone remember what time we need to be at the station for the scenic train ride?” she said. "Was it twelve or twelve thirty?”



George gave her a strange look. No wonder. Bess has a memory like an elephant. She rarely forgets a name, a face, or anything else.



But Alan lowered his camera. "I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe we’d better double-check.”

“Thanks, sweetie.” Bess tilted her head and smiled up at him. “We’ll wait for you right here while you run over there.”

Alan blinked. “Oh. Okay, I’ll be right back.”

As he hurried off, Bess turned to me. “All right, Nancy,” she said briskly. “You’ve been walking around in a fog for the past hour. What are you thinking about?”

I grinned weakly. “I’m that obvious?”

“Oh, yeah.” George leaned back against the snowplow sign, watching as Tobias and his mother posed for a photo his father was taking. “So spill.”

I glanced around to make sure nobody was close enough to hear us. The area was crowded with visitors, mostly passengers from our ship and the two others currently docked in Skagway. I wasn’t surprised that my friends had noticed I was a little distracted. My mind wouldn’t stop buzzing around the incident on the dock. Did it mean something? I couldn’t decide.

“I was thinking about that busboy,” I said. “It’s probably not related to the case, but you never know, right?”

“I guess.” Bess looked dubious.

“How would something like that be related?” George asked, sounding even more doubtful.

I frowned. “I don’t know, okay? I just want to make sure we don’t miss any clues, or—” I cut myself off with a yawn.

“Sorry, are we keeping you up?” George said with a smirk.

I almost snapped back at her, but I swallowed the retort. "Sorry. Guess I’m pretty tired. My wake-up call got messed up this morning, remember?”

The suite where we were staying had its own butler, an enthusiastic, outgoing young man named Max. One of his duties was handling our daily wake-up calls, and that morning he’d entered my room at five a.m. on the dot.

“I know I requested a seven thirty wake-up call,” I murmured, stifling another yawn.

"Whatever, everyone makes mistakes.” George shrugged. “Max said it was just a text mix-up or something, right? And he apologized like crazy for, like, the entire morning.”

Bess nodded. "I don’t know why you didn’t just go back to sleep, Nancy.”

"I tried. But your boyfriend was snoring so loudly next door that I couldn’t.”

“So that’s why you’re so cranky today,” George muttered.

I shot her a look. “That, and I still can’t believe you knocked my bagel on the floor yesterday at breakfast.”

George protested. “I told you that wasn’t my fault. Alan totally bumped into my arm!”

"Yeah, yeah,” Bess put in. "It’s always Alan’s fault with you, isn’t it, George?”

“Shh,” I said as I saw Alan hurrying toward them. "Speak of the devil...”

That was the end of any private talk for the moment. We wandered around town, sightseeing and shopping for souvenirs and snacks, until it was time to head back to the station for our scenic train excursion.

"Wow, this is cool,” Bess said as we entered the old-fashioned train car. "It’s like stepping back in time.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t paying much attention. I’d spotted a couple of our fellow passengers from the Arctic Star in the car. One of them was young travel blogger Wendy Webster. As usual, she stood out in the crowd in her plaid skirt, tank top, and long scarf. She looked up from her laptop computer and spotted us.

“Hey, guys!” she called, shoving her oversize black-framed glasses up her nose and waving. "Is this place epic or what?”