"Dang, I was countin' on dope."
"The dead man struck a stalled car. You know just as I do that wasn't his fault."
"I know that. But why didn't he brake?"
"He was decapitated."
"That's the part that bothers the fool out of me, I don't mind sayin'," said Melvis Cupper in the cool fluorescent atmosphere of the county morgue. "There wasn't enough glass in the cab to chop him up like that."
"Impact forces can sometimes wrench a man's head clean off."
"I got a good look at the neck stump. Looks like a clean cut. And a wrenched-off head would pull out all manner of plumbin', wouldn't it?"
The ME frowned. "I must admit you're right about that. Well, there are some factors we haven't accounted for yet."
"That's what I been sayin', Doc. What happened is plumb inexplicable. That's why I was hopin' it was dope."
"Drugs wouldn't explain what happened here."
"Not to you and me. But I gotta tell you, when I run into somethin' I can't otherwise explain away, dope fills the bill. Covers up a wealth of sins and omissions. In fact, I highly recommend it to you."
"You have a different way of looking at your responsibilities than I do," the ME said firmly as he sheeted the headless nude body.
"Appreciate you not takin' that tone with me, Doc. I got more of these fandangled derailments these last two, three years than I care to count. There's a big one back East right this minute I'm supposed to look into once I get done here."
"You'll have to find your answers elsewhere," the ME said formally. "My report will say no drugs in the system. And death by traumatic decapitation."
"Dang."
A voice from the suddenly open door asked, "Melvis Cupper in here?"
"That's me," Melvis said, turning.
The first one through the door didn't make Melvis's eyebrows quirk up much. He was six footish. On the lean side. Short dark hair and deep-set eyes that sank back into his head so he seemed to have hollows instead of eyes, like on a skull. His wrists were mighty big, though. Reminded Melvis of Popeye the Sailor Man.
He wasn't Texan. Not in a white T-shirt, tan chinos, fancy leather loafers and no self-respecting hat on his head.
"Who might you be?" Melvis demanded.
The man flashed an ID card, identifying him as Remo Renwick from DOT-the Department of Transportation.
Melvis was handing it back when the second man popped through the swinging door.
Now, here was an entirely different article. He swam in silvery silk skirts like a lady. But he was a man. Old as sin, too.
"And this 'un?"
"Chiun. Derailment specialist on loan from Washington."
"Him?"
"Yes," said the little old Asian. "I am very familiar with trains."
"That so? You don't look much like a railroad man from the cut of your skirts."
The face of the tiny Asian stiffened. "I am old enough to have ridden steam locomotives."
"That so? What kind?"
"My first engine was a Mikado 2-8-2."
Melvis's eyes popped like white grapes. "You don't say! And where might that have been?"
"The Kyong-Ji Rail Line."
"Never heard of it. Must be east of Texas."
"West. For this train wended its way through my native Korea many years before you were born."
"Do tell."
"Can we get on with this?" Remo asked.
"What's the rush?" Melvis countered.
"The Department of Transportation is very interested in this derailment."
"NTSB has it covered. You gents can wait for the official report like everyone else."
"The preliminary one says drugs."
Melvis cleared his throat noisily. They had him there. "We just been discussin' that little detail, the doc and me. Ain't that right, Doc?"
"Drugs are not present in his system," the ME said flatly.
"So much for the preliminary report," Remo Renwick said pointedly.
"Now, don't get all carried away. We're still compilin' data."
Remo Renwick drifted over to the dead engineer on the dissection table. "This the engineer?" he asked.
"Yep. I wouldn't lift that sheet if I was you. It's kinda raw under there."
Ignoring him, Renwick lifted the sheet, picked up the head and examined it as if it were 4 basketball he was checking for leaks, then tossed it to the old Korean. The little guy caught it as if catching heads was something he did all the time.
"See now!" the ME protested.