Strangers on a Train (Nancy Drew Diaries #2)(4)

"You know what you did. You just thought we’d never find out.” The boss glared at him.

I winced, feeling sorry for the busboy. He started to protest, looking confused and terrified, and his boss responded, though their voices were too low for me to hear what they were saying anymore. I glanced around for my friends, wondering if they’d noticed what was going on.

Instead I saw a heavyset man with a droopy mustache hurrying over. I didn’t know his name, but I’d seen him a few times on the ship. I assumed he was another passenger, since he always wore a Hawaiian shirt and shorts rather than a navy-and-silver uniform. But he seemed to spend a lot of time hanging around with the staff.

Right now he was zeroing in on the busboy and his boss.

“What’s going on over here?” he demanded as he rushed up to them. "Is there a problem?”

The boss dropped his hold on the younger man’s arm. "It’s nothing to worry about, sir,” he said smoothly, though his brow was still creased in anger. "Please enjoy your day in Skagway.”

Mr. Hawaiian Shirt ignored him, peering at the busboy’s anxious face. "You okay, son?” he said. "Because if there’s some sort of trouble, you’ve got to speak up for yourself.”

The busboy’s face went red. He glanced from his boss to the other man. "It’s nothing,” he muttered.

"That’s right,” his boss put in. “Thanks for your concern, sir. Now if you’ll excuse us—”

I guess I was staring as all this went on. Because just then, the busboy turned and met my eye. He spun toward his boss.

"It’s not right!” he said suddenly, his fists clutched at his sides. "I don’t know anything about any illegal drugs! Whoever said they found them in my locker is lying.”

"Drugs?” Mr. Hawaiian Shirt barked out. "What’s this all about?”

By now the raised voices were attracting attention, even on the busy Skagway dock. Some of the passengers who were disembarking nearby were looking over, and a moment later I saw the tall, broad-shouldered form of the Arctic Star’s captain striding in our direction.

“What’s going on over here?” Captain Peterson asked. Glancing from the red-faced busboy to Mr. Hawaiian Shirt, he frowned. "Never mind, don’t tell me. Let’s take this back to the ship. Now.” He grabbed the boss by the elbow and the busboy by the shoulder, steering both men toward the gangplank.

“Wait!” Mr. Hawaiian Shirt hurried after them. But he was cut off by a group of laughing redheaded children from the family reunion. By the time he dodged around them, the captain and the two employees had disappeared into the ship.

I caught up to him by the foot of the gangplank. "Wow, what was that all about?” I asked in what I hoped was a friendly, casually curious tone. I stuck my hand out. "By the way, I’m Nancy. Nancy Drew. I’ve seen you around the ship, remember?”

"Uh, sure.” The man glanced at me and shook my hand, though he looked distracted. “Nice to meet you. Fred Smith.”

"So what do you think was going on with those two?” I said. “Can you believe that guy fired the busboy in front of everyone? Crazy, right?”

"Just business as usual, I suppose. Excuse me.” Fred Smith pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. He hit a button and pressed the phone to his ear, turning away and disappearing into the crowd.

Okay, so much for that. I looked around for my friends. They were a few yards down the dock, gathered around Scott, the shore excursion specialist.

“Where’d you disappear to?” George asked when I joined them.

“Nowhere. Remember that nice busboy with the dimples who cleaned up the drink Coral spilled last night?” I said. "I think he just got fired.”

Scott glanced at me. "You talking about Sanchez?” he asked. "Yeah, just heard about that. Something about finding drugs in his locker.”

“Really? Wow, crazy,” Alan commented.

Scott shrugged. “It happens. Just an unfortunate side effect of dealing with a large crew of workers from all different backgrounds.” He grimaced slightly. “Some of them less, um, savory than others. Like Sanchez, for instance.” He cleared his throat and pasted a pleasant smile on his face, as if realizing he’d said too much. "In any case, I hope you won’t let this incident spoil your day here in Skagway.”

“Don’t worry about that.” George glanced toward the town’s main street, which was lined with old-timey buildings. “This place looks pretty cool so far. Now, about that train ride. .

The others went back to discussing the day’s activities. I was only half listening, though. Could the incident I’d just witnessed have anything to do with our case? That man, Fred Smith, had been one of our suspects the last time around. It was strange how he always seemed to be nearby whenever there was trouble. Did he need to go back on the list? Or could the busboy himself be the jewelry thief s accomplice? Scott had all but come out and said the guy might have a questionable past.

I chewed my lower lip, trying to figure out how all the clues might fit together. I wished I could question Scott about the bus-boy, since he seemed to know him. But I couldn’t, not with Alan standing right there. I didn’t want to raise his suspicions by seeming too interested in something like that—especially if he’d heard any of what Becca and I had been talking about earlier.