The Butterfly Conspiracy (3 page)

    
The waiter settled himself in front of Stephen and Dom’s table and set down two white porcelain mugs filled with steaming black coffee. Not a drop had spilled.

    
“Nice foot work!” Stephen commented.
 

The waiter stammered a gruff “hmmmmph”, picked up his empty tray and headed to the end of the dining car.
 
Midway down the aisle Paulie stopped the waiter.
 

“Hey, get me a cup of coffee.”
 

The waiter scowled.
 
For a moment Stephen thought the tray was coming straight down on the big guys head.

    
“Sugar?” Dom asked?

“Sure.” Stephen tore open a packet and poured it into his coffee.
 

    
“How long have you been drawing?” Dom asked.

“As long as I can remember, I take my sketchbook everywhere.”

“Your sketches really capture your subjects.
 
Looks like you’ve drawn everyone in our car, including me.”
 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Stephen responded.

“No, not at all. Are you in art school?”

    
“I just graduated from
Bastion
Heights
Academy
.
 
I’m headed to the Rhode Island School of Design in the fall.
 
I can’t wait.
 
That’s why I’m drawing on this trip.
 
I figure traveling by train would provide a much better place to do some character studies than on an airplane and I wanted to see some of the country, too.”

 
   
“Bastion Heights! I’m very impressed,” Dom said. “If you attended Bastion, you must be a very well-connected young man.
 
Your parents must be somewhat famous.
 
Anyone I’ve heard of?”

    
Stephen grinned.
 

“Not everyone from Bastion is from a famous family.
 
But you would probably know my mother, Stella Moorehouse and my father is...”

    
“Stella Moorehouse from the game show ‘What’s My Story’?” Dom interrupted.
 
Stephen laughed.

“Yes, that would be her.” Stephen knew his mother would not be happy to hear that response.
 
Now days she prided herself on her numerous charity works.
 
She would rather have been associated with her movie credits ten years earlier, than to be known from that silly game show.
 
Stephen had heard her rant and rave about this topic on many occasions.
 

    
“So that means your father is the up and coming Broadway playwright, Martin Moorehouse, as in “Justice at Nuremburg, right?”
 

    
“That would be him,” Stephen agreed.

“I saw that play last year and I thought it was brilliant,” Dom said. “Very thought provoking.”

    
Stephen and Dominick passed the time talking about their destinations, trading reasons why they thought the train was better than flying.

“I was supposed to be backpacking in
Europe
with my girlfriend.” Stephen said.
 
“But she sort of dumped me at the last minute and now I’m on my way to visit my uncle for the summer.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Stephen.
 
I know it’s rough being dumped by a woman.
 
We’ve all been there, that’s for sure.
 
A handsome lad like yourself should spring back quickly,” Dom remarked.
 
“But surely northern
Michigan
will be pretty sparse in the bevy of beautiful women department, compared to
New York
City, right?”

“You might be surprised.
 
My uncle is a
Hollywood
director and I’m hoping his estate is teeming with actresses.”
 

“No kidding?
 
So, who’s your uncle?”

“Phillip Kahle.”

“Oh, yes.
 
I loved his horror movies from a few years ago. Very campy!”
  
  
 
  

After the second cup of coffee, Dominick suggested they order some dinner.

Halfway through the meal, Dom asked Stephen, “See that man sitting over there who almost knocked over the waiter?”

Stephen looked, then reached down and grabbed his sketch book.
 
He flipped open several pages and asked, “This guy?”

“Yes, that’s the guy.
 
You’ve captured him quite nicely.
 
Do you know him?”

“What? No, why would you think I know him?” Stephen asked.
 
      

“Actually, no reason, but he seems to be staring at us a little more than normal.
 
Probably nothing, I just was wondering.”
 

    
Stephen thought he was probably staring at Dom’s toupee, but said instead, “No, I’ve never seen him before.
 
I’m sure he’s just bored and aimlessly looking around the coach. There’s nothing special about me to be looking at.”

    
With dinner finished, the waiter cleared their table and Stephen and Dom returned to the passenger car.
 

     
The evening was spent watching the lights of the countryside pass by, with pauses interrupted by talk of art school, business, and sports.
 

    
Around eleven thirty, Stephen excused himself for the night, heading to the view liner roomette his uncle had reserved.
 
Dom said goodnight indicating he was going to sleep in the passenger car.

    
Paulie was fighting to stay awake when he noticed the kid get up and move past him.
 
Trying not to look too obvious, he rose and followed Stephen from a distance.
 
Paulie followed as Stephen walked through the next passenger car, the dining car and entered the sleeper coach section.
 
Dom observed what was transpiring and decided to get up and follow them both.

    
Since he hadn’t booked any sleeping accommodations, Paulie figured the best place to keep on eye on the kid was in the nearest passenger car to the sleeper coach.
 
As Paulie returned through the dining car, he passed Dom in the aisle, glaring at him.
 

Paulie entered the passenger car and found an empty seat close to the door.
 
He tossed his hat in the seat next to him, took off his suit coat and draped it over himself like a blanket.
 

Dom followed from a distance, picking a seat four rows behind and sat down.
 
Dom wanted to keep an eye on that big goon who seemed to be following Stephen.

Stephen entered the sleeper car.
 
He stepped in and looked around. Not bad, he thought. The room was small, about three and a half feet by seven.
 
It had an upper berth and two reclining seats that looked like they could be made into a bed, if necessary.
 
There was a small toilet and sink with a shower area down the hall.
 
Stephen popped up a little table which faced a window with curtains and sat in one of the reclining seats.
 
He stared out the window as the countryside passed by.
 

Stephen took out Jill’s letter and started to read it again.
 
He got half way through and crumpled the letter up in a ball.
 
Why dwell on the past, he thought.
 
This trip is the start of a brand new future.
 
He tossed it into the garbage can.
 

After twenty minutes, Stephen was getting tired.
 
He got ready for bed, pulling the window curtains closed and jumped up into the berth.
 
Stephen fell asleep to the clicking sounds of the rails moving rhythmically beneath him.

The next morning, Stephen stirred as the rising sun brightened the window behind the curtains.
 
At first he was confused as to where he was.
 
He had been dreaming about seeing Jill walking down a street in
Paris
with another guy. In the dream, as he approached them, Jill pointed to Stephen and started to laugh.
 

It was then he had stirred himself awake.
 
He glanced out at the passing landscape and tried to get into a happier mood. Stephen dressed quickly and decided to see if Dom would like to have a cup of coffee or some breakfast.
 
Maybe conversation with his new friend would help to cheer him up.
 

Stephen carefully navigated the distance from the sleeper to the adjoining passenger car.
 
He gave a start as he saw the big guy in the suit, sleeping next to the door.
 
Stephen saw Dom sitting a few rows behind him.
 
Dom put his finger to his lips motioning towards the dining car.
 
Stephen nodded and turned around.
 
Walking quietly past the sleeping Paulie, Dom noticed a huge book, with pictures of butterflies, open on his lap.
 

Seated in the dining car, Dom briefed Stephen on what had happened during the night.
 

Dom asked, “Why would this guy get up and go to the sleeper coach at the same time you did, then turn around and park himself in the car closer to you, if he wasn’t following you?”

    
“Maybe he just wanted a quieter place to sleep?”

    
“Well, there were fewer people in that car,” Dom agreed.
  

“That’s got to be it. Why anyone want to be following me?”

 
Dom glanced at the entrance to the dining car.
 

“Don’t look now, but guess who just walked in.”
 

Paulie walked by trying not to look at Stephen.
 
It was evident he had just woken up.
 
His hair was a mess. Paulie’s face showed an overnight growth of whiskers and his suit was a mass of wrinkles. As Paulie walked in, Stephen turned his face to the window.
 

    
The landscape rushing past was pale grey with a soft mist covering farm fields intersected by small thickets of woods. Dom and Stephen ordered breakfast.
 

Around nine thirty, the Lake Shore Limited came around a bend and the sky-scrapers of downtown
Chicago
could be seen in the far distance.

“It looks like we’re getting into
Chicago
,” Stephen said to Dom.
 
“Thanks for making the time go by quickly and thanks for watching out for me.”

“I enjoyed meeting you, Stephen.
 
Keep your eyes peeled, if you know what I mean?
 
Once you get to the station, you should call your father and let him know what’s been happening.”
 

The train jerked to a stop.
 
Paulie finished his coffee as he watched Stephen get up and head out of the dining car.