Page 42 of Whistle

“Oh, of course. How about this one next to it? Do you think a boy turning ten would like this?”

“A Chesapeake & Ohio steam loco and tender? How could he not? Comes with a tank car and a caboose and a two-bay coal hopper and—”

“A what kind of hopper?”

“A car that transports coal. A transformer and all the track you need to get started. It’s one of the finest sets in the store.”

Christina picked up the box in both hands and as she admired it, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Oh my,” she said.

“Are you okay?”

“No, I’m fine, I just felt a little something wash over me, there.”

“Maybe you’ve got the bug,” he said.

“The bug?”

He grinned. “The train bug. Once the hobby gets hold of you, it’s hard to shake.”

“Well, I guess I’ve caught it, because... I’m taking this. Ring this up.”

That was exactly what Edwin did. He held the door open for Christina as she departed, and then, not seeing anyone else on the sidewalk who looked like an immediate prospect, he returned to his project in the back.

This mountain was going to go over an existing track. There would be a tunnel, and portals at each end. But the mountain had to be strong. He didn’t want the whole thing crashing down when a gleaming passenger train was running through it. And it had to support everything that would go on it. The rocks and trees and weeds and grass.

Edwin looked into the bin he kept on a worktable a couple of steps away from the layout. It contained various odds and ends that would be incorporated into the structure.

“Yes, let’s start with this,” he said, reaching in and pulling out an off-white stick with rounded ends, like a longer, thicker turkey bone.

Close at hand were an electric drill, a set of bits, and a box of screws. Edwin found everything he needed.

“Nothing beats a good, solid femur,” Edwin said under his breath.

This time, instead of whistling, he sang. “Heigh ho, heigh ho, it’s off to work we go...”

But he drowned himself out as he began to drill holes through bone.

Thirteen

It was never news Harry wanted to deliver, but he couldn’t recall dreading it more than today.

Gloria Tanner, wife of the late Angus, was out the front door of her house before he was out of his car. Maybe she’d been sitting by the window night and day, waiting for the authorities to arrive with news about her missing husband. Or maybe something Bill Tracy had said at the Lucknow Diner had made it all the way to the Tanner household. Harry hoped it wasn’t the latter. He didn’t want the bad news to come from somebody else. Gloria Tanner deserved to hear it from him.

She must have known from the expression on his face that he didn’t have anything good to report. As he opened his door wide, she began to crumple in slow motion, her legs weakening, and then her knees were on the lawn, her calves tucked under them, her right arm out to keep her from completely going down.

Harry got out of the car fast and was on his knees next to her, a hand around her shoulder, keeping her upright.

“Mrs. Tanner, why don’t we get you inside.”

“You’ve found him, haven’t you?”

“Are your children home?” he asked. The Tanners had two grown kids. A son named Ivan, twenty-five, who worked the counter at a self-serve Sunoco station, and a daughter, Patrice, thirty-one, who worked for the town’s tax department.

“No,” Gloria whispered. “They both came by this morning.”

“Let’s go inside and call them. Get them back here.”

Harry knew he couldn’t wait for the children to arrive to break the news, but he wanted to know they were on the way. He didn’t want Gloria Tanner to be alone when he departed.

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