April 1, 1935- 4:35 a.m.:

Detective Kinney settled into his spot on the bench outside the tiny train station depot and waited for his train to arrive. It hadn't been easy getting here in time. This tiny little hamlet was a last stop for the train in the State of New York on its way to California. Only the skilled driving of one of New York's finest had made the connection possible. Brian had just waved the young officer off after he had hurtled through the night at higher than posted speeds to get Brian to a place where he could board the train that they had every reason to believe carried a murder suspect as a passenger. The poor highway patrolman was exhausted but he would be alright. His Captain had provided funds for the young man to stop at a roadside motel and get some sleep before returning to the City.

Brian had a little time, though not much, to reflect on how he had arrived at this spot. He had gone straight to headquarters after talking with the young lady who was his suspect's best friend. She had been of little help in figuring out where the suspect, Justin Taylor, might be while being questioned, but she had inadvertently left a clue for Brian to discover on his own. Just before leaving her apartment Brian had spotted a notepad next to the telephone with a train schedule written down in rushed handwriting. It included a train number and its destination. Because the time that was noted for the train's departure was at least two hours earlier that evening it was obvious the information was not for Miss Chanders benefit. The cop in Brian told him it was more than likely for young Taylor's benefit. Now all he had to do was convince his superiors that this train should be checked out.

That had not been an easy task to accomplish at first. As the Captain reminded him, in these hard times the city could hardly afford to send a detective off on a wild goose chase across the country. It was during their discussion that Captain Horvath got a call from the police chief. The man was tense as he reminded Horvath that the victim was a personal friend of the Mayor and his wife, not to mention a prominent (and wealthy) Patron of the Arts. He ordered Horvath to leave no stone unturned in the pursuit of those responsible for the crime. That was all Horvath needed to hear. In no time at all Detective Kinney had a voucher for his train ticket, expenses, and a car arranged to get him to the town where he could board the train.

The train would be arriving any minute now. Brian sat calmly waiting and working things out in his head. He wondered if there was any chance he would spot the suspect right away. He would no doubt be well disguised. After all he had managed to board the train, if indeed he was on it, without being spotted by the large cadre of police officers on the lookout for him. He would probably be wearing a dark wig of some sort and maybe thick glasses to hide those penetrating blue eyes he possessed. Brian had seen a couple of photos of young Justin and even carried one with him in his pocket at that very moment. He pulled it out and looked it over again.

Brian was a man who had always appreciated a fine piece of masculinity and this young man was certainly that. Brian had been intrigued by the young man's eyes to begin with. They were certainly not the eyes of a killer, Brian mused to himself, but the cop in him was experienced enough to know that looks could often be deceiving. And yet every time Brian looked into the picture, which was a full frontal close-up of the blond's face, he saw a warmth and gentleness in those eyes that almost spoke to him. Brian shook off the feeling that had slowly washed over him while staring at the photo. This was ridiculous, he told himself. Young Taylor wasn't the first cute blue-eyed blond that had caused a stirring in Brian's nether regions, and he wouldn't be the last. Brian tucked the photo back in his overcoat pocket. He didn't need it. He knew exactly who he was looking for. He just had to find him.

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April 1, 1935- 5:05 a. m.:

Justin shivered in his bed. The need to pee was overwhelming but he really didn't want to risk getting up. He would have happily spent the entire train trip tucked away in this berth with the curtains drawn but he knew he'd never get away with that. The need to pee had been growing steadily for almost an hour and he knew he couldn't hold it much longer. Justin decided to bite the bullet and creep out to make a run for the bathroom. It had been totally quiet for some time so he was fairly certain no one else was awake. Justin checked out his wig, which remarkably had stayed pretty much in place during the night, and took one last look in the large hand mirror Daphne had provided him. He was happy to see that the night hadn't robbed him of his feminine look in his nightdress, but he was looking forward to reaching California so he could be himself again.

Justin stepped gingerly down the short flight of steps to the floor and did his best to be as quiet as a mouse, as he made his way to the next car where the public bathrooms were installed. The train had stopped moving and Justin could see the platform of a small train station right outside the windows on his left side. He could see very little activity on the platform but there were a couple of people milling around with luggage. They were about to board. Justin also spotted a tall man who only carried a single small bag. He obviously wasn't traveling far, Justin thought to himself. It was still dark out so Justin couldn't make out any faces. He didn't see anything else of interest, and his need to relieve himself was making itself known again so he hurried on to the nearby bathroom.

As Justin stood in front of the commode and let the steady stream loose, Detective Kinney was boarding the train in the very next car. The man was bone-tired. He had been on his feet for nearly two days straight and he desperately needed a little sack time. Naturally the department wasn't going to swing for a first class ticket in one of the sleeper cars so Brian moved down the aisle of the coach class railcar looking for an empty seat in which to settle his weary bones. A few hours sleep and he'd be in a far better mood to start checking out the passengers. Hopefully he wouldn't have to look far to locate his suspect. Once he found the young man, he could arrest him on suspicion, get off at the next station they came to, and take the next train back to the City. Once he got back home he'd have a story to tell his friends while looking for a prime piece of tail for a good fucking. With that thought in mind, Brian found a pair of seats empty and settled down in the one next to the aisle.

Brian looked around him before removing his overcoat and settling down into the semi-comfortable chair. Nearly every person in his car was sound asleep. The muted sounds of snoring came from several locations throughout the car. One small child whimpered in the background in the throes of a bad dream. Brian could hear the mother reassuring the youngster, who quickly settled back into sleep. Brian couldn't see the faces of most of the passengers since many of them were scrunched down into their seats with blankets drawn up to the chins, or had faces turned away. Brian didn't care right now. He needed sleep more than his target. He stretched his long legs out under the seat in front of him and pulled his hat down over his eyes so the brim would keep out any light as the sun rose outside the car's windows. In a matter of seconds, Brian was in dreamland.

Meanwhile, his intended target had finished his chore and was heading back in the opposite direction to return to his own car and the safety of his berth. It was still barely five in the morning so the sleeper car was almost totally quiet. Justin hurried to his berth and was halfway up the steps when the curtains to the berth below him opened suddenly. A young lady with milky-white skin and jet-black hair poked her head out. She rubbed at her eyes as she tried to focus on what had awakened her. She saw Justin's legs in front of her face.

"Hey missy, can we keep it a little quiet out there," she asked sleepily.

Justin stepped back down to the floor. "I'm so sorry," he answered, being careful to use his soprano voice. "I tried to be as quiet as a church mouse."

"That's okay, darling," the young lady returned. "It's not really your fault. I'm a light sleeper." She stuck out her hand. "Hi, we haven't been formally introduced. My name is Cherry. Well, it's actually Prunella, but I've never forgiven my parents for that. I mean, who wants to be named after a prune. I figured if they could name me after a fruit, I could change it to a different fruit."

The girl laughed quietly to herself. She had a beautiful smile and Justin could see right away that she was a friendly and outgoing person. He warmed to her then and there.

"I know how you feel, Cherry. My parents stuck me with a funny name too but I like my nickname better. I'm Sunny."

"I know. I was here when Miss Debbie was introducing herself to you. So you're our new singer? You'd better be as good as Carol or Miss Debbie will eat you alive," she said sternly. A second later she let out a laugh. "I'm just kidding Sunny. Don't look so scared. Miss Debbie is really a sweetheart. Everyone loves her to death. If you have any questions, honey, just come to me. I'm sort of the family gossip... just ask anyone, but don't worry because I'm also really good at keeping secrets if someone asks me to keep something to myself. Anyway, it looks like it is still too early for good girls to be up so I'm going to try and get a few more winks. You'd better get some more rest too, my dear. Miss Debbie never lets up on rehearsal time, even when traveling. Hey, I look forward to hearing your voice tomorrow. Well, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite."

With that, she drew the curtains closed to her berth. Justin stood there with his mouth still open, waiting to say something. He hadn't been able to find anywhere to put a word in edgewise. Cherry could definitely talk, he laughed to himself, but there was something really nice about the young lady. Justin already missed Daphne. Maybe Cherry could become his new best friend. He shook his head. No one could really replace his Daph. With that thought in mind, he hurried back up to his berth before he woke anyone else up. He tried his best to settle down into the bed and get some more sleep but he couldn't relax. He realized that the morning was fast approaching and the real work of convincing everyone on board that he was a female singer was about to start. He was scared. If his disguise failed he would be in so much trouble. How in the world could he explain away disguising himself as a woman, if caught? Of course that was presuming the person who caught him didn't know about the hunt for a young man named Justin Taylor who just happened to look like him.

Justin asked himself again how he had gotten to this point and in this place. What had he done to deserve being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Why in the hell hadn't he stayed in Oscar's bedroom that night, or just left the house earlier, or wiser still... not gone to Oscar's place at all that night? How in the hell would he ever prove his innocence, and who in the hell was the actual killer? The man probably thought that Justin had seen him and could finger him, but in truth he could stand right next to the man this very minute and there was no way he could identify him. Justin simply hadn't gotten a good look at the man's face. The only thing he remembered seeing clearly was the gun in the man's hand. As he thought about it he realized there was something odd about the hand holding the gun, but he had been too traumatized at that moment for the oddity to register. Now looking back on it he recalled the impression the hand made on him, but he still couldn't remember why he had thought it odd.

Thinking about that night's events was giving Justin a headache so he did his best to focus on something more pleasant, and after a little while he was finally able to fall asleep again. The night slowly slipped away as dawn came and with it, a new day. Both hunter and hunted slept fitfully just yards away from each other, neither one aware of the man with the crooked pinkie finger, which stood at a permanent V-shape as the result of a childhood accident. He was on his way to visit one of his oldest friends, the chief of police, in order to learn any news about the fugitive who was running from the police after witnessing (or in the minds of the police participating in) the murder of Oscar Vanderbeke. The distinguished-looking businessman wasn't quite sure why the young man had run away rather than face the police and give evidence about the killer's true identity, but he wanted nothing more than the chance to question the young man and find out the reason for himself. First he had to find him, and hopefully it would happen before the police got to him first.

To be continued........