Murder by Chance (Betty Chance Mystery) Read Free

carefully checking out the twenty-three rows of seats. Except for the odd candy bar wrapper, or tossed aside magazine, everything appeared normal. She could even smell the scent of an orange that one of her passengers had eaten earlier. It wasn’t until she and Tillie reached the end of the dark aisle, standing next to the washroom, that a different scent made her gag.
    “Do you smell that?” Betty asked, as her vivid imagination began its warm-up stretches.
    Tillie sniffed. “Yeah, it’s weird. Kind of like that pricey rotting cheese, covered with dollar-store perfume.”
    Betty stared at the large double back seat, placed just below the tinted rear window. A lone newspaper lay spread out on a seat cushion. Even in the dark, Betty could see it was written in a foreign language. There was nothing else. No containers were left unopened, or rancid liquid spilled on the seat. Across the aisle from the seat, was the washroom. It was a room so small, unless it was urgent, most passengers refused to enter it.
    She glanced at the room’s closed metal door, and noticed the occupied sign was lit. Her eyes continued downward until saw a small puddle of liquid that had seeped out from underneath the door. The color was golden with a rose tint. The watery substance had a fluorescent glow.
    Betty and Tillie exchanged nervous looks.
    “Hello?” she said, tapping loudly, hoping an aged client would open the door. Or at least give an irritated “Occupied!”
    When there was no response, she pounded on the door.
    “Hello, anyone in there?” she yelled. Again, she waited for a response. None came.
    She jiggled the knob. The door was locked.
    “This isn’t good,” Betty said and pointed to the locked key box, located on the side of the door. A spare key to the restroom was hidden inside. “Tillie, will you open it?”
    Tillie nodded and, stepping around the wet carpet, punched in the combination to the lock. The key box door slid open. She reached inside and grabbed the thin brass key.
    Betty thought it ironic that earlier in the day she’d told Tillie a potential problem in traveling with seniors is that, at any moment, any one of them could die suddenly. Though it hadn’t happened to her yet, a few months ago a senior citizen had died of a sudden heart failure while traveling with Tours by Tina. Not only did a human life end, Tina’s ridership declined by thirty percent for the following year.
    Now, it looked to her as if her small talk to Tillie was nothing less than a premonition.
    Tillie slid the key into the restroom door keyhole. The latch clicked and she opened the door. A silver box catapulted toward her, its thick pink liquid content splashing over her face and torso. “What the …?” she gasped and instinctively shut the door.
    A toilet paper roll careened down the aisle.
    Tillie touched the goop on her face with her fingers. She slowly drew her fingertips to her nose. “It’s soap!” she announced. “Look, the liquid soap container was ripped off the wall.”
    “Open the door again,” Betty commanded, gearing herself for whatever was lurking in the tiny room. A scenario of possibilities raced through her mind. Someone could have suffered a fatal cardiac attack. Or perhaps they were still alive, but too sick to unlock the door. Or maybe the person inside committed suicide because they realized that Take A Chance’s destination—a casino—was the last place they needed to be.
    Tillie slowly reopened the door, inch by inch, blocking Betty’s view with her arms. The driver’s shoulders slumped downward before she muttered, “My god!”
    “What?” Betty demanded.
    Tillie swallowed hard. “Remember how you said you worried about your seniors dying suddenly from natural causes?”
    “Yes?” Betty replied in a small voice.
    Tillie used her thumb to gesture toward the interior of the restroom. She said, “I can assure you … this ain’t natural.”
    Betty squeezed herself around the metal door and