Conan's Grandparents were glad he was safe, but not happy with what their grandson had done. As punishment, he was hit repeatedly by his grandfather, using his belt.

"What WERE YOU THINKING?!" scolded Aila. "YOU COULD'VE BEEN KILLED! THE POLICE COULD'VE EASILY HANDLED IT, YOU SHOULD'VE GONE TO THEM!"

Conan tried to speak, but his grandmother slapped him.

"I DON'T WANT ANY EXCUSES!" she screamed. "YOU KNOW BETTER THAN THAT!"

"But I…"

She slapped him again, even harder.

"I SAID NO EXCUSES!"

"Yes, grandmother."

"Good! Now, I hope that you'll never pull off such a stupid stunt ever again!"

The next morning, Conan returned to work at Vicarstown. He was still sore from last night.

"God, your grandparents are ruthless!" Thomas remarked. "I've never felt my bunker to be so sore!"

"You're lucky," said Conan. "At least you don't have any marks to show it."

"True, that's true," Thomas conceded. "Anyway, that guy, who was he?"

"I never got a chance to look at his face," said Conan, "but he sounded familiar."

"How familiar?" asked Thomas.

"As in I've heard that voice before…all I can say is he's from the upper class."

"Doesn't really help us," Thomas pointed out. "A lot of people are like that. What I don't understand is why someone from the rich part of society would want to do murder."

"Because they can, because they have enough money to get away with it," Olive put in. "The reason varies depending on the person."

"From what he said, it seems like he has something against my big brother," said Conan.

"And he targeted his girlfriend, right?" asked Olive. "Because I think you're looking in the wrong place."

"What exactly do you mean, Olive?" Thomas asked.

"Well, let me answer by asking this: did you ever ask Henrietta's parents if she may have known somebody? Most murders are committed by people the victim knew after all. Maybe she had an ex, and he didn't take it well."

Thomas and Conan went wide-eyed, realising how stupid both had been.

"Conan, where do Henrietta's parents live?" asked Thomas,

"Somewhere in Kirk Ronan, that's all I know," said Conan. "However, we have something to talk about. But, we have to find somewhere private."

"Maybe we should do that later," said Thomas. "Right now, we need to speak to the Fat Director: he may be able to help us find their address."

"You sure, Thomas? I really…"

"This is more important, Conan"," interrupted Thomas. "The only way we'll know for sure if she had anybody who would want to kill her is to talk to her parents."

Conan sighed: he knew Thomas was right.

"Very well," he said. "I'll speak to him and see if he can help."

"Well. here he is," said a familiar voice. "Now what is it you need help with?"

"Beg pardon, sir," said Conan, "but I was hoping you could help us find where Henrietta Brown's parents live."

"Me too, sir," added Thomas. "Speaking to them may help us narrow the search of who killed her."

"And what brought this idea up?" asked the Fat Director.

"I did, sir," said Olive, and she told the Fat Director what she told Thomas and Conan. When he finished, the Fat Director nodded thoughtfully.

"You're right: someone should be talking to her parents. I'll speak to a detective and have him uncover where they live. Afterwards, I'll arrange a meeting with them. This will all take time though, so please keep working: we still have a railway to run. I remind you that we're not vigilantes, but you're too stubborn to care, right?"

"Yes sir," said the engines and Conan.

"As I expected. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to head down to the police station and speak to a detective." And with that, he walked away.

The Fat Director drove to the police station and asked Chief Murphy if he had any detectives available. Fortunately, there was one: Allistor Fernby. Never really a fan of the wealth his brother acquired, Allistor turned down his share of the Will his parents had provided in favour of serving in the police. Allistor agreed to find out where Mr. and Mrs. Brown lived and set to work doing so at once.

For most of the week, life went on as normal, aside from Lily starting to suddenly behave. Allistor walked around Kirk Ronan, asking people questions about the parents: he would not leave any stone unturned. Most of the residents didn't seem to know about their personal lives too much, and as it turned out, they hadn't really been seen much since the death of their daughter. Allistor deduced this was out of grief. It wasn't until the month nearly ended that he finally learned what he was looking for. Informing the Fat Director, they both decided the best time to visit would be later in the week.

On the day before Emily derailed, on the 10th of February, the Fat Director arranged for Thomas to take him, Allistor, Conan, and Jewelie on a private train to Kirk Ronan. Selena volunteered to be station pilot in his absence. The ride there was uneventful, aside from the Fat Director giving the teens some strict instructions.

"Now remember: Mr. and Mrs. Brown are most likely still upset about their daughter's murder," said the Fat Director. "So please try not to say something that will make things worse. In fact, please let Allistor do the talking."

"Yes sir," said Conan and Jewelie.

Later on, they arrived at a house and Allistor knocked on a door. A woman timidly answered it.

"Hello there, Mrs. Brown," said Allistor. "We've come here to talk."

"You…you…you came to talk?"

"Yes," said the Fat Director. "It's about…"

"Get away! GET AWAY!" she screamed. "YOU WON'T TAKE MY OTHER DAUGHTER!" And she slammed the door!

"Sorry about that," said a voice from behind them. They turned around to find a brown-haired man looking to be in his fifties. "I'm afraid my wife suffers from paranoid schizophrenia," the man said.

"I take it from that you're Louis Brown, brother of Sir Handel Brown?" asked Allistor.

"That's correct, detective," the man replied. "Now, what is it you wanted to see me about?"

The group went to a restaurant where they had dinner.

"Ah, I see," said Mr. Brown when Allistor informed him of the situation. "Yes, a terrible tragedy indeed."

"You seem to have gotten over it quickly," Conan pointed out. The Fat Director glared, but Mr. Brown gave a chuckle.

"I can see why you'd think that, young man," he said. "I will admit though, I never did get over it: death may be natural, but having your daughter go before you isn't supposed to happen. That said, I have been going to therapy, and it's helped me live with the pain…still…some nights, I cry when I think of what could have been."

"So why didn't you get therapy for your wife?" asked Allistor.

"I tried, I really did," Mr. Brown answered. "Prior to our daughter's death, my wife had been taking medication. But after Henrietta died, she stopped: I assume she believed somebody had poisoned her pills. Eventually, she forgot who I was and kicked me out of the house. Nobody's been able to approach her ever since. Even the police have been frightened off, and that's saying something."

"And what about this other daughter?" asked the Fat Director.

"Doesn't exist," answered Mr. Brown. "We have a son, her fraternal twin, but he's on the frontline. I assume my wife created this other daughter in her own mind because she couldn't come to terms with the death of her real daughter. Sadly, she never lets anybody enter now: even I have been repelled."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said the Fat Director. "Now then, can we please move on and ask you some questions about Henrietta?"

"By all means, go ahead," said Mr. Brown.

"Well, one of my engines pointed out that the murderer was most likely somebody Henrietta knew," the Fat Director said. "What I want to ask is this: do you know of anybody who she had a history of animosity with?"

Mr. Brown went into thought.

"Well," he said at last, "I wouldn't say it was animosity, but she did have a stalker."

"Who?" asked Jewelie.

"His name is Johnathan Norramby," answered Mr. Brown. "The son of our Duke, Sir Henry John Norramby. He developed a lust for her when he first saw her and began bothering her endlessly, forgetting or ignoring that he was WAY too old for her. She always rebuffed him, but he wouldn't accept no. It's why we moved to Kirk Ronan: we hoped to get away from him. Seems he managed to find her."

"Officially, we're screwed," muttered Conan.

"Maybe, maybe not," said Mr. Brown. "Sir Henry had him sent to a psychiatric hospital after Johnathan tried to murder his brother Charles Henry Norramby and…well, you can probably guess what he tried to do to our daughter."

The man was speaking like a gentleman, but it was obvious he was holding in a flood of rage.

"Well, at some point he disappeared from the hospital. Some say he died, but no body was ever found. It's rumoured he either escaped and is hiding from the law, or died while trying to escape."

"Well, that's one suspect we can try and look into," said Allistor. "That said, he may be dead like you said, so just in case he is, can you think of anyone else?"

"Anyone. Up to and including her boyfriend, or I would suggest Noah if he wasn't in the front line."

Conan didn't like the idea of his brother being the murderer, but he couldn't deny Mr. Brown had a point: Noah could indeed have performed the act. The only thing that really proved Noah wasn't responsible was the fact he was on the front line when the murder happened. Jewelie held his hand to help him calm down.

"She did have another boyfriend, once," said Mr. Brown. "Richard Alster. You might want to look into him. She never told me why they broke up, so…"

"I see where you're getting at." said Allistor. "We will indeed look into Richard. Any idea where he is now?"

"I'm afraid not, sir," said Mr. Brown. "As for anyone else, I can't think of any at the moment. But if I do, I'll be sure to let you know."

"Well, thank you for your time," said the Fat Director. "It's been a pleasure speaking with you."

"The pleasure was all mine," said Mr. Brown, and he turned to Conan. "When Noah returns, please tell him I'm sorry."

"What for?" Conan asked. "You've not done anything wrong."

"But I have," said Mr. Brown. "You don't need to know what: just tell him I'm sorry."

"Ok, if you say so," said Conan. "Anyway, if your wife kicked you out, where are you staying?"

"In a hotel," answered Mr. Brown. "I was on my way back when I saw you at my door. It's more expensive, but better than living out on the streets. Don't worry too much about me: I have a steady job."

On the way back to the station, the four discussed what they had just learned.

"Seems we have two possible suspects," Allistor said. "One may be dead, the other we don't know. I'll start looking into Richard Alstor when we get back to Vicarstown."

Back at the station, Thomas waited impatiently for the party to return. Edward steamed into the second platform.

"How's the meeting going?" he asked.

"No idea," said Thomas the Tank Engine. "They've been gone for quite a while now."

"These things do take time," said Edward. "Now, there's something else I need to talk to you about?"

"What would that be?" Thomas asked.

"When the idea was first brought up by Olive, Conan mentioned he needed to talk to you about something in private," Edward said. "I know, I was there. And I think I know what it is."

"What're you talking about?" asked Thomas.

"He and Jewelie seemed to have gotten rather, uh, close," Edward said.

"Of course, she's his first real human friend," said Thomas.

"Closer than just friends, youngster," smiled Edward. "They've become something more."

"How's it possible to be more than friends?" asked Thomas. Edward sighed: this was clearly not going to be something he could explain easily.

"Remember when Emily told you about love?" the K2 asked.

"Yes?"

"I think that's what he wanted to talk to you about."

"Well, what would I know? I don't even understand it myself!"

"Conan clearly trusts you," said Edward. "You should at least try to help him."

"But…I don't get it…what's that bond between Conan and Jewelie? What does he want to say to her?"

"Don't ask me, Thomas, ask him," said Edward. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to fill up on coal and water." And with that, he went off to a water tower, leaving Thomas to ponder Edward's words.

A few minutes later, the party arrived, and boarded the inspection coach. Thomas was still pondering Edward's words and didn't say anything as Conan boarded. Even as he departed, it was still on his mind. They had to stop at Rolf's Castle to let a slate train pass. Neil whistled cheerfully, but Thomas didn't reply.

"Aye, whit's gaun through Thomas' funnel, I wonder?" he asked himself.

It was getting late by the time they returned to Vicarstown, Conan and Jewelie ended up falling asleep next to each other.

"Leave them," said the Fat Director when Allistor tried to wake them up. "They're tired, they need this rest."

"Alright, if you say so," said Allistor. The two adults left Conan and Jewelie alone and exited the saloon. "Thomas, shunt the saloon somewhere out of the way of vandals, but open enough so that the sun wakes up Conan and Jewelie when morning comes: they're too tired to leave the coach it seems."

"What will you tell their parents?" asked Thomas.

"Jewelie's dad, I can't: I've no idea where he lives. Conan's grandparents, on the other hand, I'll tell them exactly what I told you. Speaking of which, I need to get to their house." And with that, he walked off.

"Come on, Thomas," said his driver, "let's do as he says and get you into your shed."

Thomas began looking around the yard trying to find the best siding that fit the Fat Director's description. The sun had fully set by the time he decided on the perfect siding to use. He left the coach there and joined the others in the shed.

"Nice to see you back, Thomas," said 98462. The E2 was too tired to say anything, so he rolled into the shed and promptly fell asleep, almost before his buffers touched the bar.

Next morning, Conan awoke to the sun shining onto his eyelids, as did Jewelie.

"Good morning, Jewelie," yawned Conan.

"Morning, Conan," yawned Jewelie. At that moment, both became aware of the awkward position they were in: it seemed during their sleep, they had rolled off the seats and were now on the ground, Conan directly on top of Jewelie, pinning her onto the floor. Their faces so close they could have kissed. Instead, the two blushed and separated, turning away from each other.

"S-S-S-Sorry!" they said to each other. Both felt their hearts beating rapidly.

At that moment, Thomas' whistle got the attention of both. They quickly got out of the saloon.

"How'd you two sleep?" Thomas asked. Neither teen answered: they just looked away, awkwardly. "Ah well, it's never too easy sleeping where you haven't before," said Thomas brightly. "Now we should get to work: railways don't run themselves you know." The E2 steamed off before either could reply.

"I'll go to the ticket station."

"And I'll go to clean Olive before her first train," said Conan. "See you later Jewelie."

The two went to do their jobs, still feeling awkward. It would be a while before either would come to terms and realise why they felt this way. But that's another story.