Jillian Chantal

This week’s word for tuesday Tales is HAND. I think I now have a working title for this story. It’s Senior Assassin. I hope you enjoy this week’s entry. Be sure to click the link here for the other tales!!

Noticing Hugo Marchman seated near the man who had leapt on the train as it left the station, Win worked his way through the tables and joined them. “What ho, Marchman? Any news on who’s responsible for the death of Lucien?”

Before Marchman could answer, the other man held his hand out. “Mack Plant. Remember me?”

“Sure do. How are you?”

Plant glanced around the room. “There’s lots of work to do here to find out what exactly is going on. I see a lot of possibilities but the good news is that there’s not a lot of people who could have done it since the train has been moving for a while and the only suspects have been onboard since Paris. No one has gotten off either so the pool of suspects is finite. I only hope that the railway company doesn’t let anyone debark at the next station.”

“You sound like you’ve been mulling this over for a bit. I hope you’re right about the company not letting anyone off.” Win wondered why this Plant man was so in touch with the ways of investigating crimes. Was he a policeman?

“I would think that they won’t. They sure don’t want the rail company to have bad publicity. I predict they will have law enforcement get on at the next stop and question everyone on board.” Hugo raised his hand to get a waiter’s attention and made a circular motion for refills for he and Plant. He turned to Win. “What’re you drinking, Barrington?”

“Whiskey. I’ve gotten quite used to it, I’m afraid.”

“What’s that mean?” Plant asked.

“Ahh, see, I came of age when Prohibition was in and we drank a lot of whiskey in an iced tea glass to pass it off as legal.” Win laughed. “Dad had it served at dinner each night.”

“Better watch out,” Hugo pointed his cigarette in Plant’s direction. “This guy’s a cop from Chicago. He could run you in.”

“I highly doubt that. The statute of limitations has run.” Win looked over at Plant. “If you’re from Chicago, why the British accent?”

“Ever heard of undercover work?” Plant asked.

“You’re not much of a pro at it if you’ve already told Marchman and me that you’re American and law enforcement to boot.”

“I could be feeding you both a load of hokey. For all you know, I’m from Cambridgeshire and have lived there my whole life running a punting company.”

“No, Mr. Plant. That’s not possible at all. Remember, I’m from Oxford and I think I can spot a Cambridge man from fifty paces. You’re American all right.” Hugo traded his used glass for the full one the waiter held out.