She found her.
Amelia was waiting in the baggage car, sitting on top of an enormous steamer trunk, entirely ready to be found.
This is the final installment of Chortler on a Train. But the Maison Gaton house is always open. And Madame J will be back.
Welcome to the fifth — and final — misadventure.
— J
THE MISADVENTURES OF MADAME J
Chortler on a Train
In which our heroine finds her woman, learns the whole truth, fixes her hair, and sends her into the world with a lawyer’s name and a pink dress waiting on the other side.
Madame J moved through the cars with finesse, never once holding the walls or bracing her feet to gain her footing. Agile steps, heel-toe, heel-toe, down the length of the train. She needed the light to scan and dismiss faces she passed on her search for Amelia. Once the train went into the tunnel speeding towards Grand Central Station, there’d be no light and everyone would begin gathering their belongings to disembark. Madame J depended upon the serene, “we’ve got 20 minutes left” faces for the contrast against Amelia’s false wide-eyed innocence. She needed to spot her out of a crowd. The outfit change to the pink floral dress would certainly have made her stand out, but she last saw Amelia wearing the dowdy browns.
Such a contrast between Amelia’s sartorial choices and those of her well-suited, and very dead husband. Amelia did it. She’d masterminded the entire thing. Mr. Barnes was a brute–a certain brand of blustering husband they must make in a factory. That part was rather boring to her. All Madame J really wanted to know was what Amelia proposed to do next and to fill in a bit more of the details. Madame J hoped there was a rational motive, and not the cliché of running away with a younger lover. Amelia seemed more calculating and keen-eyed than that, despite her attempts to walk around doe-eyed and lost. The hope of a heart attack was a rather interesting choice, and there was a willingness to improvise, as evidenced by the scarf down the throat. Amelia was clearly willing to give up a prized possession to ensure a job was done. While the plan had certainly gone awry, there was a cleverness to it. Yes, a calculating mind was at work there, but it needed training and focus.
The reverie ended when Madame J reached the baggage car and found Amelia sitting on top of an enormous steamer trunk, waiting for her arrival. Neither woman spoke. Madame J waved her hand, and Amelia nodded her assent and scooted to her right.
“What will you do now?”
“I don’t know. I hoped he would have died of a heart attack, but he only got redder in the face. So I climbed him one last time. I shut him up with my scarf. It was my favorite scarf, ya know? And he hated it. Said pink wasn’t my color. That it was too gauche and young.” Amelia shrugged after this declaration. Madame J wanted to smile at the interesting choice of words and the slip in her speech patterns. Madame J supposed Amelia would indeed have to climb Mr. Barnes in order to have bested a man that size.
He took the bag down and flung it open. The car now had an electric charge. While she couldn’t hear the ticking of her watch, she felt it in her rising pulse. A carefully packed pink floral confection of fabric burst forth from the bag. The dress of a woman hoping for freedom and the desire to create a new identity. It would be more than just a dress for Amelia. It would have been the last touch to transforming into a vibrant young thing–something other than brown, dowdy, beaten-down Mrs. Barnes.
Without looking up, Madame J rubbed the fabric between her fingertips.
“Let me guess, you couldn’t find her?”
“Couldn’t find her. Nobody saw her leave the dining car. She’s in danger. I need to tell the conductor. We need to wait for the police, but we can’t. We can’t wait that long.” said Mr. Jacoby. He was wringing his hands, and sweat beaded around his mouth and the corners of his brow.
Madame J closed the bag and stored it in her berth. She smoothed her jacket down and patted the stiletto in her hat.
“How far away is the baggage car?”
Louis stood up to go with her. She placed her hand on his chest and pushed him back down. Mr. Jacoby did a double take, realizing there was a new man in the car.
“Let this young man go with you. You can’t go Amelia wiped her palms against her skirt a few times. There’d be no wiping away what she did.
“How do you feel now?”
“Relief. I suppose I ought to say remorse, but I’m tired of lying and you would see right through it. You knew from the start, didn’t you? Why let it go this far if you knew?”
“I like to be thorough and have a method for going through each potential party one at a time. I never assume I am correct. People sometimes have a way of surprising me. It was a lovely dress, by the way.”
“Yes, it was. Will you take it? Give it to someone who will really wear it somewhere special. Show it off. Ya know, really shine.”
“Why don’t I keep it for you?”
“You will not let me get away with it?”
“No, my dear Amelia, I will not.”
Amelia sighed at this, and the train windows darkened as the train made its way underground for its last stop, where the local cops would be waiting. They could see their reflections. Both women were sitting side by side. Madame J first took in her own reflection: the green velvet crescent hat and perfect curve of black hair streaked with gray across her front brow. She tilted her full mouth into a sardonic smirk. Madame J then transferred her attention to Amelia’s reflection: the shiny hair in a tight bun and a fiercely buttoned-up brown blouse choking a slender throat. Amelia withstood the scrutiny without flinching. A sudden resolve passed across her expression, and she stood up.
“I’d rather they take me standing up. I’ll explain the whole thing.” Her real accent made its way forward. A contrast to Amelia’s usually clipped, careful speech.
“You will not say a thing. I know a clever woman who can help you. Ask for Deborah Jones, Esquire, when they book you in. They will know who she is and how to find her. Tell her I referred you.” Madame J stood up next to her and turned away from their reflections to face her directly. She stepped back and sized up Amelia in a moment, then signaled for Amelia to hand her the hat clutched in her hands. Amelia handed her the cloche. Madame J went to work and placed it on Amelia’s head, doing quick work of a few strands of her hair across the front. She unbuttoned the top few buttons of her blouse and shifted the waistband of her skirt. “That’s all we can do for now. Let the papers have a field day with you.”
Amelia looked at her own reflection, and her mouth turned up a little at the corners. The first semblance of a smile. And just as quickly as it appeared, Amelia tucked it away again. She stood tall and gained several inches over Madame J. Ready for instructions; she gave Madame J her full attention as lights in the tunnel appeared as they reached their final destination.
“A lady lawyer? Wow, I never met one before.”
“A lawyer who happens to be a woman. Yes. Now, say nothing. Ask for Ms. Jones and I will see you on the other side of this. Your pink frock will be pressed, ready, and waiting. Do exactly as she tells you. I have a colleague meeting me at the station. She will make sure Deborah reaches the precinct before you do, but if she does not, say nothing.”
“Why not let me go?”
“Because I believe in real justice. To let you go would subvert everything I have worked so hard to create. And of most importance, it would mean I thought you had been guilty of a crime and that crime was worth fleeing from. I believe neither thing to be true. No, you did the thing, but it is not for me to decide whether you are guilty of a crime. And I certainly do not think you should flee.”
Amelia had nothing to say in response. Her reflection was now a ghost swallowed by the platform lights. Passengers came into view, dotting the approaching platform. Uniformed officers were keeping the next passengers in line away from their approaching train. A detective in the usual shabby suit and misshapen hat stood just outside the police line.
Amelia repeated “Deborah Jones” like a mantra to keep her courage. She nodded at Madame J to signify that she understood what to do next and was ready. The train slowed, and each woman kept her footing when the train came to a full stop.
Madame J pressed an air kiss on either side of Amelia’s face and gave her shoulders a last squeeze before stepping towards the door, towards the platform.
“What about Louis?” Amelia asked. The sudden remembrance of the pretty young man almost seemed like a bad joke to a woman who was potentially facing death for killing her husband. But it did indicate to Madame J an attention to detail and tying up loose ends. Madame J’s sardonic smirk transformed into a full smile.
“We will let his mother take care of him.”
Madame J stepped onto the platform and towards her waiting audience. The detective tipped his hat, and the conductor gave her an admiring double take, no doubt regretting not staying a little longer to speak with the eyes he spotted staring down at him from the perch in the berth. Madame J gave a statement, quick orders, and the men on the platform sprang into action. A red-headed woman in a velvet green fedora slipped past the police line and whispered to Madame J. The two women turned towards the train. Madame J nodded at Amelia, who pushed her shoulders back, receiving the unspoken message. The woman in the green fedora tipped her hat, and both women slipped into the crowd.
Whatever happened next, there was a pink chiffon dress and maybe a green velvet hat waiting for Amelia. One day.
For easy access to the whole series click here.
That's the end of Chortler on a Train. But Madame J isn't done with her misadventures — not by a long shot.
Thank you for riding along. If you'd like to talk about what just happened in the comments, I'll be there.
Until the next adventure.
— J
If you'd like to talk about what just happened in the comments, I'll be there.
See you next week.