A note to die for

Stopped.  When I arrived at the desk to report my missing bag they informed me while would be moving soon the overall arrival time would be delayed looking stowaways and clues.  More rain droplets pound against the misty window leaving little trails of of clarity them as they trickle down the misty window.  A phone call for me.  I inform Mr. Vanderhoussen of my situation and we agree that the rubies, which have been missing for just over 5 years now, can wait a couple more days.  Next, I proceed to the dinning car.  Soggy pancakes and artificial syrup.  I notice a seat free next to the stranger from last night.  In the daylight he looks more attractive than ever in the daylight his hair slightly rumpled but clean his tailored suit revealing his muscular physique. A smile passes between us.  "Is this seat taken?" I inquire eager to ask him more questions about last night.  "No please join me they managed to sell me this entire carton of orange juice and I'll never be able to finish it on my own."  "Thank you that's very kind.  I'm-" Interrupted again.  A porter approaches. "Madam, we've been going through the dead man's luggage and since your a private investigator we would appreciate your assistance.  We've found a strange note."  "Can it wait until the end of breakfast?" I ask.  "I'm sorry Madam it's rather urgent.".  I follow him back to room 203 where the victim was found.  A small knapsack has it's contents splayed on the bed: a change of clothes, an empty pack of crisps and for some unfathomable reason an ornate ivory broach.  No identification.  The name, Henry Miller, which was used to purchase the ticket, had quickly proven to be an alias.  No signs of his final destination.  Inside of the pillowcase they had just found a note which simply read: Tomorrow.  The lounge.  Right before we leave. -JL       

Author's Note

kindly ignore the fragments and poorly punctuated dialogue.