Лилиан Браун - The Cat Who Blew The Whistle

As the newsmen hobbled toward the wreck, they could see a flatcar with a huge floodlight that illuminated the trestle bridge. On the opposite bank of the creek was another flatcar with a railroad wrecking crane. Then a surreal scene came into view: a row of dazed victims sitting or lying on the embankment, while white-coated doctors moved among them. No train was in sight.

"There's our guy!" Riker said. "Hey, Donald! Getting anything?" They ran to meet him.

"Not much," said the young reporter. "Only pictures. Nobody knows anything for sure."

"Keep on shooting," said the boss. "We'll hang around and try for quotes."

"They think the train was stolen from a siding in Mudville."

"My God!" Qwilleran shouted as he ran toward the gulch. "It's No.9!"

Three jack-knifed cars were piled on top of a locomotive lying on its side in the mud - a grotesque monster still breathing smoke and steam.

-15-

The Friday edition of the Moose County Something carne off the presses two hours early, following the episode at Wildcat. The banner headline read:

TRAIN WRECKED IN BLACK CREEK No.9 and Party Train Crash After Whittling Joyride

The fabled engine No.9 roared at top speed through the village of Wildcat Thursday night before plunging down a steep grade and around a treacherous curve. It derailed and crashed into the muddy water of Black Creek. One person was killed. Forty were injured, some seriously.

The ill-fated run, unscheduled and allegedly unauthorized, left the switch- yard at Sawdust City about 9:15, according to witnesses. It raced south with whistle blowing through Kennebeck, Pickax, and Little Hope, narrowly missing a consist of 20 freight cars being shunted at Black Creek Junction.

Residents of Wildcat heard the continuous screaming whistle that signified a runaway train and rushed to the cross-roads in time to see the last car hurtling down the grade. Signals to slow down are clearly posted on the approach to Wildcat. An investigation is under way to determine whether the accident was due to mechanical failure or human error.

In either case the SC&L disclaims responsibility, a spokesman for the railroad said, since the Party Train was privately owned and berthed on a private siding.

At presstime, the reason for the unexpected run had not been ascertained. A spokesman for the Lockmaster County sheriff's department called the ill-fated run "a joyride for railroad nuts who knew how to shovel coal."

The Party Train is known to be the property of Floyd Trevelyan, who is wanted on charges of fraud in connection with the Lumbertown Credit Union. The crew and passengers were all residents of the Railroad Retirement Center in Sawdust City. The only fatality was the engineer, Oswald Penn, 84, retired after 50 years with SC&L. He had an outstanding safety record. He was Trevelyan's father-in-law.

Passengers and other crew members jumped to save their lives before the crash. Eighteen sustained injuries requiring hospitalization; 22 were treated and released. They were being questioned by investigators. Conspiracy has not been ruled out.

A paramedic on the scene said, "All these old fellows are long past retirement age. Looks like they wanted to make one last jump. They didn't know their bones are getting brittle. We've got a lot of fracture cases here."

Emergency medical teams, volunteer rescue squads, and volunteer firefighters from Lockmaster, Black Creek Junction, Flapjack, and Little Hope responded. The sheriffs of two counties were assisted by state police. SC&L wrecking equipment was brought from Flapjack to clear the right- of-way for northbound and southbound freight consists.

The Black Creek trestle bridge itself was not damaged, but tracks and ties are being replaced. A repair foreman on the scene said, "The train was traveling so fast, it tore off the curved tracks and made them straight as a telephone pole. Man, that's real whinlin'."

Twelve hours before the headlines hit the street, Riker and Qwilleran drove away from the wreckage with divided reactions. One was exhilarated; the other was troubled.

Riker conjectured that the train was stolen by depositors defrauded by Trevelyan, who were indulging in a senseless act of revenge. It was ironic, he said, that the embezzler's father-in- law lost his life, trapped in the cab and scalded to death by the steam. Why didn't he jump, like the others? The alleged thieves knew what they were doing; the engine was fueled with plenty of coal and water for a short high-speed run.

Qwilleran, on the other hand, had privileged information that he could not divulge without exposing Operation Whistle. His professional instincts required him to tell Riker what he knew, but it would all be revealed in the end.

Meanwhile, he had to protect his private mission - and Celia's part in it, for that matter. He had no doubt that Ozzie had intended to "go out whittlin' " and never intended to jump. He wondered if the old man had consciously wanted to re-enact the famous 1908 wreck at Wildcat, hoping to go down in railroad history. While Riker had been flashing his press credentials on the embankment, Qwilleran had been talking quietly with the survivors. They balked at talking to the press, but Qwilleran introduced himself as a friend of Ozzie's. There were no secrets at the Retirement Center. They had heard all about this "Mackintosh feller from Chicago," who had interviewed Ozzie for a book he was writing and who had bought him two shots and a burger at the Jump-Off Bar. Now they all related the same story: The idea had come up suddenly, the day before, during a huddle at the bar. Ozzie Penn had said it would be a helluva joke to steal the train and wreck it. He would drive the hog, and he'd need a crew of three to keep up a good head of steam for a fast run. Anyone else could go along for the ride, unless he was too old to jump. Everyone would be expected to jump before the hog hit the curve north of the bridge. They all knew how to jump. Now - waiting on the embankment, fortified by a good dose of painkiller - they had no regrets. It was the most excitement they'd had in years!

They had known instinctively that Ozzie would not jump. He'd keep his hand on the throttle no matter what, and to hell with the reverse bar. He was a brave man. He'd proved it in countless emergencies. He always said he didn't want to die in bed; he wanted to go out whittlin'. It gave Qwilleran a queasy feeling to realize that his own suggestion of a Penn family reunion had resulted in Ozzie's purchase of the train, Florrie's possible cure in Switzerland, the train's destruction, and Ozzie's death. Call it heroic or not, being scalded to death by steam was blood-chilling. Could it have been an old man's penance for abandoning his daughter so cruelly?

The next morning Qwilleran wrote his review of the play in time for the noon deadline and also dashed off the lyrics for a folksong, titled The Wreck of Old No.9. These he took to the Old Stone Mill when he went there for lunch. He asked to be seated in Derek's station.

"Good show last night," he told the tall waiter. "Best role you've ever done."

"Yeah, I was really up," the actor acknowledged.

"Did you hear about the train wreck on the radio this morning?"

"Nah. I slept in, but they're talking about it in the kitchen."

Qwilleran handed him an envelope. "Here's a new folksong to add to your collection. You can sing it to the tune of the Blizzard ballad." "Gee, thanks! Who wrote it?"

"Author unknown," said Qwilleran. He had done his bit to launch Ozzie Penn into the annals of local folk history. He knew Derek would sing it allover the county.

Another news item - one that would never be memorialized in song - appeared in the paper that day:

Edward Penn Trevelyan, 24, son of Floyd and Florence Trevelyan, died yesterday as a result of injuries suffered in a tractor accident. He had been on the critical list in Pickax Hospital since Monday.