Page 10 of Buck Baxter and the Mysteries of Love

Pigeons flappedthrough the shafts of morning sun that beamed down from the glass-domed ceiling of Wilde City’s Grand Central Station. The sound of trains chuffing steam was almost drowned out by the throng of the excited crowd of photographers, journalists, socialites, and dignitaries making their way across the vast marbled lobby of the train station, all of them heading to the same destination, a brand new platform and trainline that had been specially built to house Hart Industries’ latest innovation—the rocket-train.

Harry was staying close to me, his hand constantly brushing against mine as though he was desperate to hold it, desperate to make sure I didn’t get swept away from him in the milling multitude.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I wasn’t used to crowds. Hell, I hated them. They were like a collar buttoned too tight or a summer day so damn hot you couldn’t breathe. “It ain’t too late for me to back out now.”

“Buck, don’t you wanna get to the bottom of this case as soon as we can?”

“I’d rather take you home and get to the bottom ofyou,” I whispered in his ear.

“Settle, mister. You’re on the job.”

At that moment, a wave of excitement rippled through the crowd as someone said, “There it is.”

Necks craned, people tried to see over each other, and the tide of spectators swept us beneath an ornate golden arch emblazoned with the words ‘Welcome to the Future.’

The crowd filtered onto a platform, cleaner and fancier than any other platform I’d ever seen at Grand Central Station. The mosaic walls were covered in promotional banners for Hart Industries featuring bright, vibrant illustrations of Hart’s fleet of luxury passenger liners, as well as his grand and imposing airships sailing over the cityscapes of Paris and Berlin. And now joining the ranks of his transportation empire were depictions of a train so fantastical it looked like something out of a Jules Verne novel.

“Is that what the rocket-train really looks like?” I asked Harry, pointing to one of the illustrated banners. “It doesn’t even look real.”

“Oh, it’s real alright. Wait and see.”

I didn’t have to wait long. As a swell of awe-filled ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaahs’ filled the space, a long, large mechanical beast came into view. It sprawled down the length of the platform like a giant iron caterpillar covered in gears and cogs, bolts and bearings, sprockets and springs and piping and portholes, round and rimmed with brass like the windows on a ship. They ran all the way from the enclosed engine in front, along the three carriages in the middle, and down to the caboose at the tail of the train.

The engine was covered in metal valves and vents that looked like the gills of a steel shark. There was a veil draped over part of the engine’s side, concealing something yet to be revealed.

The three carriages in the middle of the trainwere labeled with signage that read “Presidential Suite,” “Dining Car,” and “Passenger Car.”

Meanwhile, the caboose was designated “Cargo and Storage.”

But there was something that struck me as odd with the design of the train, apart from the portholes for windows: the carriages were connected with sealed passageways, joining one car to the next, making it one seamlessly linked locomotive from head to tail.

“It sure is something, huh, toots?”

The voice coming from behind me was, of course, Stella. But what the hell was she doing there? And how the hell could she see the damn train over all those heads?

The second question was answered when I spun about to see her perched like a parrot on the shoulder of Lois… or was it Lucy? Whichever it was, there Stella was with the glamorous blonde Logan twins who worked as Harry’s personal assistants.

“Stella? What are you doing here?”

“I got an invite from the luscious Logan twins, naturally.”

Lois and Lucy both gave me a red, glossy smile. “Nice to see you, Mr. Baxter.” They turned to Harry beside me. “Morning, boss.”

“Morning, ladies. Morning, Stella.”

“How ya doin’, moneybags?” Stella asked Harry before tipping her head toward my black eye. “Did you check out the shiner Buck got from workin’ your case? Good thing his eye didn’t pop right out of its socket. But hey, that’s just the hazards of the trade I guess.”

I clenched my jaw, anticipating the look of surprise and betrayal that came my way from Harry. “You told me it was a bunch of drunk bozos in an alley.”

“Harry, I can explain.”

“I think you’d better. I didn’t hire you for this case to watch you get beat up. And I certainly didn’t hire you so you could lie to me.”

“Harry…”

At a dais beside the engine of the train, several men in expensive suits appeared, with Howard Hart center stage and his wife beside him.

“Explain it to me later, Buck. My father’s about to begin his speech. Maybe you should start looking for that driver of his. Just promise me you won’t get hurt again. Like I said before, the sooner this is resolved the better.”

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