Where Is Henderson? (Sam Darling mystery #5) Read Free

significant,” I said, before trying to climb into the boxcar.
    “Okay,” was all he said as he lifted himself quickly into the train.
    I shrugged my shoulders and tried to get my 5’ 2” body to jump through the door of the boxcar. It wasn’t looking promising, considering that the floor of the car began at my neck level.
    “George,” I said, and realized that my voice sounded almost whiney, which I abhorred. So I swallowed and tried again. “George.” I spoke loudly and the words came out decidedly unwhiney. “I need some help.”
    He was already well inside the train car, but walked back to the door and bent down to give me a hand. Our fingers barely touched and I couldn’t grab onto his hand.
    Ever the gentleman, he lay down on the floor of the car and then reached for me. This time I was able to grab on to him, and we did the wrist-to-wrist grab that is common in adventure movies. I didn’t feel like a movie star though. I felt like just what I was—a short, slightly overweight, 44-1/2-year-old woman. I was grateful this wasn’t being filmed for posterity, and after a lot of groaning I was able to get my belly half in and half out of the train. George then stood up and pulled some more. I knew my stomach was getting scraped, but the effort was worth it when I was finally in the car. I rolled from my stomach to my back and looked up at my helper.
    “Thanks,” was all I could manage, but there was a lot more I wanted to say. Like, “I promise I’ll start running again and get in shape,” and “You are so wonderful, helping me like that, even when you wanted to be looking at the place the body came from.” A few gulping breaths later I was finally able to stand.
    The inside of the boxcar was dark, and we couldn’t find a light anywhere. I turned on the flashlight function on my smart phone. George had thought ahead as usual and brought the flashlight from his car.
    “You go to one end and I’ll go to another. Try not to disturb anything, and we’ll compare notes afterward.”
    I nodded, then realized he might not have seen my nod. So I answered, “Sure thing.”
    I took off in the indicated direction. When I noticed the entire back of the car was empty except for some litter, I told myself to remember a question we needed to ask the train guy—was the entire train empty? Or just this car?
    The litter caught my eye and I leaned down to pick up a piece of what looked like newsprint. I aimed my light towards it. The heading said “Henderson Gleaner,” with a date of January 3, 2015. I wondered where Henderson was, and why this scrap was here. I picked up a few more random pieces of scrap and found part of a Snickers wrapper that automatically set off a salivating response; another small piece of newspaper that had the name Nibby Hender on it plus something about a bed and breakfast; and a blank scrap of what looked like notebook paper. Even though George had told me not to disturb anything, I put these treasures in my pocket and planned to talk to George about them when we were finished canvassing the area.
    I didn’t find anything else that interested me, so walked the rest of the inside perimeter until I met George.
    “Anything?” he asked.
    “Not really. I picked up a couple pieces of paper that might mean something, but we’ll talk about that when we’re done. Okay?”
    I was able to see his nod since we were standing by the door. We each repeated the same process on the other side of the boxcar. I didn’t see anything but dirt. Suddenly it hit me that I shouldn’t just be looking down, but should be looking at eye level and upwards as well. So I did just that—and saw a vase drawn on the wall. I got closer and noted it was probably spray-painted since the edges weren’t well defined.
    Does this have something to do with the body? I wondered. Normally I would have yelled at George to come see this immediately, but was able to put my hand over my mouth to stop myself from doing so. I