The Lionel Train Affair

It was Saturday morning and Emma was sipping coffee at her favorite little cafe. It was a beautiful fall day, there was a great view, and they had the best Belgian Waffles in Southern California. What more could you want? Working and living in LA, it was hard to believe that just a couple of miles from the center of the city there was a cafe overlooking a stable where you could watch youngsters learning to ride horses.

James Wozniak, her friend and working companion, would be arriving soon. She got there a little early - not only to avoid any feeling of rushing on Saturday, but also to take in the sights and smells; the coffee, hot buttered pancakes, and - oh yes, the smell of the ornamental oranges and lavender. At the stable, there was a small class of children learning to control their horses practicing "red light - green light". Further off in the distance a young woman was weaving her mount through a dressage course.

Turning, she saw James walking from the parking lot. Unlike her, he was a native of Southern California and although it was late fall he was dressed to take advantage of the 73 degree temperature. Khaki shorts, sandals, polo, sunglasses - yep, he was a native. He was also the youngest detective in the LA Homicide department, but today he looked a little tired. He didn't have the usual spring in his step.

"Everything OK?" she asked as he slid into a chair.

"Late night", he said, "but I'm not so much tired as thinking".

Emma looked at him quizzically. James wasn't the type for a great deal of thought. He was more about action.

"Last night I was called to a murder investigation at the Forrestal Mansion."

"No! No work talk! It's Saturday", exclaimed Emma as she held up her finger in warning.

"But", he insisted, "this isn't work. This is just an interesting story." She gazed at him skeptically. "Nobody died, he insisted plea-fully", and continued with his story. "There was a break in yesterday at the Forrestal Mansion", he began again. "There was a significant amount of blood in the upstairs bathroom and some on the floor of the master bedroom."

As he said this, the waitress approached and asked if they were ready to order. She gave no hint if she heard anything of the conversation. After all, this was Hollywood and she was likely to overhear discussions of murders, alien invasions, mysteries, and wars from any of a thousand actors or directors.

James glanced quickly at the menu and said, "Coffee; cream, no sugar." The waitress waited a moment, then said "I'll give you a few more minutes". Emma frowned. She knew what she wanted and was hungry.

As the waitress walked away James resumed the story. "Anyway, with all the blood they thought Mr. Forrestal had been murdered, but he showed up an hour or so later. He was shocked to find his house overrun by police."

"It seems he'd cut himself rather badly. He wrapped a bathroom towel around his bleeding hand and drove himself to the emergency room. He says he locked up but did not turn on the security system. Now, Mr. Forrestal is a robust man well into his 60s. There was no doubt about his story. He showed us the new stitches he received. For several minutes there was a great deal of confusion. Since he didn't turn on the security system, it wasn't clear how or why the police were summoned. In fact, there wasn't very much that WAS clear.

"A policeman asked Mr. Forrestal to walk around the house with him to see if anything was damaged or missing. In the kitchen they found Mr. Coletti, the caretaker of the Forrestal Mansion. Anthony Coletti looked to be in his mid-forties. He was a smallish, heavy man and was the picture of nervousness, sweating profusely and shaking.

"Anthony", said Mr. Forrestal, "What's going on here?"

The waitress returned with James' coffee while he was telling his story.

"Have you made up your mind yet?"

James started to speak but Emma interrupted him. "Yes", she said, "I'll have a Belgian Waffle."

The waitress turned her attention back to James - who stared blankly back at her.

"Well?"

"Um... I'll have some pancakes."

Emma quickly added, "And we'd like to share a bowl of strawberries."

As the waitress retreated James assumed an attitude of mock disapproval. "Aw mom, you know I like to order myself!"

Emma smiled broadly. "You can order when you get big, Jimmy."

James resigned himself, took a slow sip of coffee, and resumed his story.

"Anyway, the caretaker was very, very nervous and replied to Mr. Forrestal with a gasping voice.

"Oh, Mr. Forrestal, I'm so glad to see you are OK. I was so afraid they hurt you when they took the train."

The caretaker's outburst was greeted by a long silence. Finally, Mr. Forrestal said, "Anthony, what are you talking about."

"They took the golden Lionel F-3 Diesel."

"Who took the F-3?"

"The thieves."

After another long silence, one of the policemen said, "Mr. Coletti, can you show us where the train was kept?"

"No", choked Coletti in a barely audible voice. "I can't go in there."

"Never mind", said Forrestal, "Follow me."

He led us to a nice sized wood paneled room, maybe twenty feet by twenty five feet, maybe a little bigger. There were numerous bookcases and tables of golden oak and it seemed every inch was covered with model trains of every type. Some were in glass cases, some on tracks, and some with little plastic men attending them. Mr. Forrestal walked to a bookcase that seem to have an unusually large open space.

"Anthony's right, it's gone."

"Exactly what is gone, Mr. Forrestal?"

"One of the prize pieces of my collection. The Lionel Corporation factory workers presented their president, Lionel Cowen, with a gold plated F-3 Diesel locomotive during the company's 50th anniversary celebration. I acquired the F-3 some time ago, maybe 20... 25 years ago? The previous owner said he purchased it from the family estate a few years after Mr. Cowen's death.

"Could you estimate its value?"

"Oh, it was quite expensive when I acquired it. It is a piece of Lionel Train Corporate History in itself and is even signed by Mr. Cowen. I'm rather expert at such things and I'm certain the signature is genuine. The F-3 could be valued as high as $100,000.

"Is it the most valuable piece in your collection?"

"Probably."

"Who would know you had it?"

"Oh, I was very proud of it. I showed it to lots of people. It was common knowledge that I had it."

"Had you shown it to anyone recently?"

"No... The last time was probably a few months ago."

"They continued to ask Mr. Forrestal questions but...

James stopped talking as the waitress delivered their food and refilled their coffee. Between mouthfuls he finished his story.

"Well, there were no bodies so I wasn't really needed. I passed the kitchen on my way out and saw the caretaker holding his head in his hands and moaning.

"This morning I started thinking something wasn't right."

"What do you mean?" asked Emma.

"Well, actually, a lot of things weren't right. Although a train was missing, everyone was fine so the caretaker's reaction seemed a little excessive. Also, there was no sign of a break in - yet the F-3 Diesel engine was gone. How did the thieves get in and why did they take only one thing? Somebody took a very well known piece that will be difficult, maybe impossible, to sell.

They finished most of the meal in silence. Only one strawberry remained. Emma stabbed it with her fork and pressed it to James' lips. Surprised, he opened his mouth and almost involuntarily bit the strawberry.

"You're the old maid", giggled Emma.

James accepted his fate graciously and smiled.

After several moments James said, "So... want to see Mr. Forrestal's train collection?"

"I knew it! I knew it!" exclaimed Emma. "I knew we'd end up doing work today."

"It's not work", stated James with great assurance. "It's a beautiful day. We're gonna take a ride and look at model trains."

Emma glared at him in silence.

"Come on", pleaded James. "Please?"

"If you buy breakfast."

"Done"

"and drive"

"OK"


Soon they were parking in front of the mansion. James rang the bell and Mr. Coletti answered the door.

"Hello Mr. Coletti, I'm Detective Wozniak. You might remember me from last night."

"Yes Detective, I'm sorry Mr. Forrestal is boating today and not here."

"Well, I'm really here to show my friend Emma Casey the most excellent train collection. Is that OK?"

Mr. Coletti looked surprised and then a little uneasy. "I suppose so."

James paused, waiting to be invited in. Finally he said, "Could you show us to the train room please?"

Mr. Coletti hesitantly led the way. At the train room he stepped aside to allow them to enter.

"Could you be so kind as to tell us about some of the more interesting pieces?" asked James.

Mr. Coletti visibly gulped and timidly, almost fearfully, stepped into the train room. He was shaking badly.

Emma, becoming concerned, asked, "Mr. Coletti are you OK?"

"I'm fine", he stammered. "I... I don't know, I never come in this room."

"Never?"

"Not often."

"When was the last time?" asked James casually.

"I... I..."

James and Emma turned to look at the stammering caretaker. They became alarmed, for the chubby little man appeared on the verge of a stroke. His face was bright red. His collar and entire shirt were saturated with sweat. He was shaking violently.

Emma placed her hand on Mr. Coletti's shoulder. "It's OK Mr. Coletti", she said softly.

She felt no Spectral Chill. These effects were not the result of any spirit. Worried about the little man, she channeled Florence Nightingale and began a casual evaluation. As she touched his face she noticed he was starting to cry.

"Oh please", he said, "Don't take me to jail". "I didn't really think this through." He gasped. "I... I... just saw a chance to help Mr. Forrestal and took the train."

"To HELP Mr. Forrestal?" asked James.

"Yes, Mr. Forrestal had always been good to me... I wanted to save him from the curse.

"Curse?" James said quizzically as he looked at Emma. Emma shrugged and said, "Maybe you should start from the beginning Mr. Coletti."

"The engine is cursed. It was made from gold stolen from King Tut's tomb", blurted the little man.

"Made from what?" exclaimed Emma.

"Cursed gold... from King Tut... you know, the Curse of The Pharaohs."

James calmly tried to explain there was no such thing as a curse. Emma, after her recent experience with the Aryan Ring artifact, wasn't so sure. She tried a different approach to comfort Mr. Coletti.

"Mr. Coletti, why do you think the train was made from King Tutankhamun's gold?

"Because the Egyptian guy that made the train stole it."

James interrupted his discourse on the non-existence of curses and raised his eyebrows in the universal signal that things had just taken a turn for the worse.

"What Egyptian guy, Mr. Coletti?"

"The one that made the train."

This exchange was followed by a rapid series of questions, followed by puzzling answers, resulting in more questions and still more puzzling answers. With each question the chubby little man became progressively more agitated. Finally, his face purple and tinged with equal parts anger and frustration, Mr. Coletti exclaimed: "Yes, there is a curse! My father Vincent will tell you."

"Your father?" repeated a somewhat annoyed James.

"Yes, my father. He knows all about the curse, but to talk to him we must go to the Los Angeles VA Nursing Home. You see, he was badly wounded in Vietnam and never fully recovered. He took a turn for the worse a few years ago and has not been well at all. He is now wheelchair bound and requires nearly constant care. We must go see him so he can tell you about the curse.

Emma, seeing her vision of a relaxing and work-free Saturday shattered, resigned herself to accompanying James and Mr. Coletti to the nursing home.


Soon the three found themselves in front of the receptionist. She put down the can of soda she was sipping and said, "Hello, Anthony. It's good to see you again."

"Hello Debbie. I brought some friends with me to visit dad. Can we see him please?"

"I believe so Anthony. His daily lung treatment should be almost complete. Mr. Vogel should be bringing him back in the next few minutes. It's a nice day - why don't you wait for your dad in the atrium? I'll tell Vogel to take him there."

The atrium was alive with the bright Southern California sun and the three agreed the receptionist had an excellent idea. It was a charming and tranquil place to meet and talk. Soon the attendant wheeled in the elder Mr. Coletti.

"Hello dad, I would like you to meet James Wozniak and Emma Casey. Mr. Wozniak is investigating the theft of Mr. Forrestal's golden Lionel F-3 Diesel.

For a full minute Vincent Coletti showed no indication he heard his son. Then he slowly reached up and removed his oxygen mask. In a low, weak voice he said, "Mr. Vogel, could you leave us please?"

The attendant looked uncertain but James said, "It's OK" and stepped forward to handle the wheelchair.

After Mr. Vogel had left, Vincent Coletti held up his oxygen mask, took a breath, then removed it and began his story.

"For forty years Mario Caruso ran manufacturing for Lionel Trains. He was my uncle by marriage. My dad was his wife's baby brother. They were rich compared to my family, but we were always welcome. We spent almost every holiday as guests at Mario Caruso's table.

"When I was very young, I knew he had a great and exciting job but wasn't sure exactly what it was. He never spoke about what he did, until one day...

The effort was too much for the elder Coletti. He began to cough and grasped for his oxygen mask. James placed it gently over his mouth and in a few minutes he was feeling better.

"...until one day in 1950 he told my dad he was very worried about Mr. Lionel. Mario Caruso retired 5 years earlier in 1945 but he stayed in touch with many former colleagues. He'd learned from friends still working for the Lionel Corporation that the train they'd given Mr. Lionel to commemorate the corporation's 50th anniversary carried the Curse of The Pharaohs. The ancient Egyptians used their mastery of arcane magic to place a death curse on any person who disturbed a pharaoh's mummy. All the archeologists who opened King Tutankhamun's tomb died from the Curse of The Pharaohs. The Egyptian who made the engine used gold stolen from the tomb. For this offense, he too died from the curse.

"Mr. Caruso tried to convince Lionel to get rid of the engine but could not. Lionel Cowen said nothing so beautiful could be cursed. I was but a lad of 10 when I heard this but I've always remembered it.

With this sentence Vincent Coletti could speak no more. His spirit remained as valiant as it was when he served his country so many years ago in Vietnam but his body was failing him. The trio made certain he was in good care, thanked everyone for their time and trouble, and made their exit.


The three were still digesting and discussing the incredible story when they arrived back at the Forrestal mansion. They were walking toward the front door when Mr. Coletti touched Emma on the wrist and said, "Could we go for a short walk?" Emma felt the familiar spectral chill spread up her arm. Some spirit had taken over Mr. Coletti's body.

"James, could you entertain yourself for a few minutes and let me talk to Mr. Coletti? Maybe you could go look at the trains?"

Mr. Coletti opened the front door for James and walked off towards the tennis courts with Emma following. They took a turn and headed towards the garden.

"Emma, I'm A.C. Gilbert"

It was clear that Emma did not recognize the name.

"I invented the Erector Set. Lionel Cowen and I were sometimes friends but were competitors for more than 50 years. While Lionel focused on selling trains, I sold trains, chemistry sets, Erector Sets, and more.

They walked in silence for a short while then A. C. Gilbert continued.

You see, I knew Lionel was planning a massive publicity campaign. It was brilliant and I knew it would hurt my company. Making the golden trains was expensive but from that investment the Lionel Corporation might double sales for many years.

"Trains?" Emma interrupted.

"Yes, five of them. Lionel was fond of saying there was one train for each decade of manufacturing the best toy in the world. Lionel was going to have a massive 50th anniversary party and had 5 solid gold trains made.

Again Emma interrupted, "You mean gold plated."

"No. Solid gold. He was going to auction them off and donate the proceeds to a war-orphans fund.

"War orphans?"

"Oh Emma, you're so young. World War II cost millions of lives leaving hundreds of thousands of children with no one to care for them. Lionel's plan would create a fund to help them but it would also generate a huge amount of international publicity and goodwill for The Lionel Corporation. I was very worried it could mean the end of my American Flyer Trains. I didn't know what to do but then fate intervened. The courier bringing the trains into the country died in a strange and rather unusual accident.

"I hate to keep interrupting", said Emma, "but weren't the old Lionel Trains all made in America. Why were they being couriered into the country?"

"Because of United States Executive Order 6102. It became law on April 5, 1933 and forbad the hoarding of gold. Because of this, it was difficult for Americans to own large quantities of the precious metal. At nearly ten pounds per engine, this was indeed a large amount of gold. At the time the average American annual salary was $2,570 and with gold costing $35/troy oz each engine would cost nearly twice that. Making the engines cost a lot of money but the Lionel Corporation was at the pinnacle of their success and Mr. Cowen expected to make great use of the publicity.

"Executive Order 6102 restrictions made it far easier to have the engines made in another country. Lionel selected an outstanding Egyptian craftsman and had 5 solid gold F-3 Diesels made. The 5 engines were to be delivered about a month before the anniversary party.

"When the courier had the strange accident I saw my chance to help my company and deflect Lionel's brilliantly conceived marketing plan. I got in touch with Lionel and explained that the gold from which the Diesels were made was cursed gold. I told him it was gold stolen from the cursed tomb of King Tutankhamun. Lionel was not a superstitious man but I, if I may be so immodest, have always been a fantastic salesman. I detailed the "mysterious" deaths of Lord Carnarvon and Howard Carter and told Lionel how the curse killed dozens of people over several years. I told him I was concerned about his safety and how I worried more would die now that the curse was again active. I was able to convince Lionel that the engines were made from cursed gold - cursed gold, stolen by the corrupt Egyptian craftsman who had already paid for his transgression with his life.

"My persuasive cause was greatly helped by Lionel knowing my first love was magic. You know, I paid my way through Yale working as a magician. I even started my first company, Mysto Manufacturing, to make magic kits in 1909. I began selling Erector Sets in 1913 and they sold very well. In 1924 I was 40 years old. I had plenty of money thanks to the Erector Set. It was the Roaring Twenties and anything seemed possible, even magic. So I bought a small cottage in New Haven Connecticut and called it Mysto Cottage - after my Mysto Manufacturing Company. It was a place of magic and the study of magic. Every month we hosted a meeting of professional magicians. Harry Houdini and Harry Blackstone, Sr. even attended a few times.

"After World War II ended, Hollywood seemed to be the place where magic was made. When Walt Disney opened his Magic Kingdom in a suburb of Los Angeles in 1955 I felt I had to relocate Mysto Cottage to the Hollywood area. In 1956 I acquired some property and had a small castle built. I called it Mysto Castle and relocated to it all the content of the old Mysto Cottage. This included a rather large black floor-standing safe that was placed in the Hocus Pocus Room.

"The Hocus Pocus Room?" repeated Emma.

"Yes, Mysto Castle has many magical rooms: the Enchantment Room, the Divination Room, the Abracadabra Room, and so on. In this safe are the five golden engines and a notarized document signed by Mr. Cowen. I was successful in convincing Lionel to give me the engines but he would only do so with the provision that I use my knowledge of magic to remove the curse. The document makes no mention of any curse. It only states that Lionel created these solid gold engines as his gift to a future generation of children. I told Lionel I would try to remove the curse and we agreed the trains and the document would be made available to the public when I was successful. This is very important. Remember this combination:
    Left 84, Right 2, Left 56, Right 15

"Emma, you must promise..."

"Shh", interrupted Emma.

They'd been walking around the mansion grounds as A. C. Gilbert was telling his story - and they'd come upon the gardener sitting on a swing. They were near the southern border of the mansion property on a cobblestone path. As Emma and A. C. Gilbert continued walking in silence, the gardener rose from the swing and fell in step following them.

Emma grew tense as she began to feel a spectral chill coming from behind her. She didn't know what to expect. She wasn't sure what might happen if the new spirit was antagonistic. A multitude of questions ran through her mind. Would the spirits fight? COULD spirits fight? What might that be like?

Emma's tension grew to outright alarm as A. C. Gilbert stopped walking and turned to face the newcomer. Oh no, she thought, all of her senses and instincts were fully alert. She was ready... but ready for what? Should she channel someone? Perhaps a great mediator? What if the human host bodies were injured in some strange spiritual battle?

"Oh NO! What should I do? What CAN I do?" she thought in desperation.

Her despair was reaching a peak when Mr. Coletti, or rather A. C. Gilbert, squinted his eyes and inquired, "Lionel?"

"Yes, A. C."

Although softly spoken, the words struck her as a tsunami - a tsunami that washed waves of relief over her.

The gardener, rather Lionel Cowen, tipped his mud covered L. A. Dodgers cap, raises her hand and placed it gently to his lips, then said, "Ms. Casey."

"Mr. Cowen."

"Please call me Lionel." "You know Ms. Casey", Lionel Cowen continued, "A. C. was a much taller man last time I saw him." To which A. C. replied, "And you, Lionel, were wearing a BROOKLYN Dodgers cap.

"Ah, 'Dem Bums, I'm glad to be rid of 'em"

They eyed each other for some time, then Lionel continued, "Emma, you shouldn't think too badly of old A. C. What he did was a dastardly trick but you should forgive him for that - I have. A. C. Gilbert was one of the most multi-talented inventors of all time. He had a medical degree from Yale and was an Olympic pole vaulting champion. He had many options in life and he chose to educate and entertain children through quality toys. For a while, in fact, A. C. Gilbert was known as The Man Who Saved Christmas."

"In 1917 the United States entered World War I and back then the Government chose not to fund the cost of the war with off-budget accounting tricks. Instead they sold war bonds and the U.S. Council of National Defense wanted to ban Christmas toys so people would have more money to buy war bonds. A. C. believed toys were too important to sacrifice, both for educating children and for their happiness. He managed to persuade the Council to reconsider and not ban toys.

"The American Government wanted to ban Christmas toys?" asked Emma incredulously.

"Yes, as I'm certain you've already seen in your young life, they try to do some foolish things from time to time. It's important to speak up and not let them.

Emma was quiet for a few moments, thinking about her hitherto apolitical life and a few government rules she would like to change. Then she asked, "Was Vincent Coletti's story the official version?"

"Ha no", laughed Lionel, "There was no official story. Mr. Coletti's tale is the result of one uninformed person gossiping to another and then to another."

"Very few knew about the five golden engines since they were to be a surprise. When I gave them to A. C. I had another engine gold plated to use for the anniversary celebration. That's the one Mr. Forrestal has.

"Well", began A. C., "Like I was saying before Lionel interrupted us... Emma, you must promise me you will retrieve the golden F-3 Engines and make sure the money from their sale goes to help educate children."

"No", declared Lionel, you must promise BOTH of us you will do so."

"I promise", said Emma.

Once again Lionel Cowen and A. C. Gilbert faced each other. A. C. Gilbert said, "We did OK didn't we?"

"Yes." replied Cowen. "Together we made millions of children happy and our private donations to the war-orphans more than made up for hiding away the golden engines."

They stood in the garden shaking hands, a small round man and a gaunt man covered with dirt, but they cast giant shadows. During their lives they were two titans of industry who brought joy and knowledge to generations of children.

Emma's eyes began to fill with tears as the gardener walked away and Mr. Coletti's expression returned to his normally timid countenance.

Emma walked ahead so Mr. Coletti would not see the tears in her eyes. She had so many things to explain to so many people... She wasn't sure how she would do that, but she was confident that she could, that she would, even if she had to channel a great speaker and persuader like Winston Churchill or Ronald Reagan.

"... and then I still have to take care of the golden Diesel engines like I promised. But", she thought while wiping the tears from her face, "That is for tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day!"