Up ahead, the white van’s right blinker had come on. Nabler steered the vehicle into the parking lot of the Lucknow Community Center and Arena, a multifunctional municipal structure where everything from bake sales to hockey games to day care took place.

What the hell was he doing here? Or was he using the parking lot to turn around, see whether he was being followed?

Harry kept on driving. As he went past, he saw Nabler getting out of the van and heading for the front door. Another hundred yards on, Harry slowed, did a U-turn, and idled on the opposite shoulder.

Fifteen minutes passed before Nabler’s van reappeared, during which time a multi-engine freight train of mostly tanker cars passed by up ahead. The van headed back in the direction it had come from. Harry followed. Nabler drove back down the alley to the rear of his shop. Harry waited until he saw the sign go back to open, then turned around and went back to the community center.

At the office he found someone he recognized, a woman in her forties named Pam, sitting at an electric typewriter.

“Hey, Pam.”

She looked up and smiled. “Hey, Harry. What’s up?”

“You had a guy in here a little while ago? Engineer’s hat, railroad patches all over his vest?”

“Yeah, right. He met with Susie.” She pointed a thumb over the shoulder. Susie Mince was the general manager. “Just go on in. She’s not doing anything so important she can’t be interrupted.” She flashed a sly grin.

Harry made his way past Pam’s desk and rapped on the open door of Susie’s office. She looked up from the latest edition of the Lucknow Leader and smiled when she saw who it was.

“Am I under arrest, Harry?” she asked.

“Dunno. What’d you do?”

“Put someone else’s parking ticket under my windshield so I wouldn’t get one.” She smiled mischievously.

Harry considered that. “Left the cuffs in the car. Back in a sec.”

Susie grinned. “And why are you darkening my door today?”

“That guy who came in to see you? Nabler?”

“That train nut?”

Harry smiled. “That’d be the guy.”

“I could see wearing a getup like that in your store, but going out in public? It’s like having an i’m a nerd flashing sign on your head. You know, last year we rented the arena to an organization holding a huge model train flea market. That was an interesting group, let me tell you. Mostly old men with questionable fashion sense. Tables set up selling everything from old Lionel and American Flyer trains to electronics to books full of railway trivia. I thought they could have done with just one vendor offering deodorant.”

“You mind my asking what Nabler wanted?”

Susie nodded. “I guess I can’t make fun when he’s well-intentioned.”

“How so?”