Free Time of Fog and Fire: A Molly Murphy Mystery (Molly Murphy Mysteries) by Rhys Bowen Page B

Overland Limited. I found I was given what looked like a normal seat, until the porter explained to me that at night he would fold out the upper berth and turn the seat below into a bed. The porter was an older Negro man and Liam looked at him fearfully, having seen few colored people in his life. But when the man smiled at him and said, “Well, hello, big fellah, are you taking good care of your mama?” in his deep rumbly voice Liam smiled shyly back.
    I had just taken my place and stood Liam beside me to watch the trains when I was joined by a young man.
    “Here’s your berthmate, ma’am,” the porter said. “Mr. Paxton. This is Mrs. Sullivan, sir. And I’m Roberts. You just call on me if you want or need anything.”
    It hadn’t crossed my mind before that men and women might be required to share sleeping quarters on a train. It obviously hadn’t occurred to him either. He looked quite flustered and said, “Mrs. Sullivan.… I hadn’t realized … I thought…”
    “So did I, Mr. Paxton,” I said. “But I only got this berth because there was a cancellation, so I suppose the original occupant was a male. I hope you will not find it too disagreeable to be faced with a young child for several days. He’s usually quite well behaved.”
    He gave me his best smile then. “Not at all. I’ll welcome the company. It’s the first time I’ve made such a journey myself and I’ve left my own wife and baby behind.”
    I examined him with interest. He had a pleasant, open face, sandy hair and a freckled face that made him look very young.
    “Do you come from Chicago?” I asked.
    “No, from New York. I work for the Metropolitan Opera Company.”
    I could not have been more surprised. He was certainly too slender for an opera singer and his attire would have made me think more along the lines of bank clerk. “Oh, my,” I exclaimed. “You’re an opera singer? Or a musician?”
    He grinned. “Nothing so grand, I’m afraid. I’m assistant to the administrator and I’ve been sent out in advance to make sure everything is in order when the majority of the company arrives in San Francisco. Perhaps you have heard that they are to perform with Enrico Caruso?”
    “I knew Caruso was to sing, but I hadn’t realized that the Metropolitan Opera was to perform with him.”
    “Señor Caruso doesn’t think that local talent would be up to his standards and requested our company instead. He performed with us recently so he is comfortable reprising familiar roles with us. And so we’re taking the whole production to join him in San Francisco. Costumes. Scenery. The whole shebang. And I can tell you, it’s taken a lot of organization to ship everything across the country.”
    “I’m sure it has, Mr. Paxton,” I said.
    We both looked up as the train gave a sudden jerk, and then started to move.
    “Looks like we’re off,” Mr. Paxton said. “Three days of sitting ahead of us, but I’ve heard there is glorious scenery ahead.”
    We chuffed out of the city and soon were moving very fast, passing through unremarkable countryside, snow-streaked fields, lonely farms, patches of woodland with bare branches, and no sign of the spring that must be right around the corner. Night fell. Mr. Paxton went to find the dining car, while I retrieved the food I had brought with us. We had eaten a good lunch and neither Liam nor myself felt like anything more than a snack. We had just finished when Mr. Paxton returned, having brought with him an orange and some cookies.
    “I sneaked out a treat for you,” he said, handing Liam a cookie.
    Our porter came to make up the beds. I changed Liam into his nightclothes but didn’t think it was proper for me to change. Neither did Mr. Paxton apparently, although he did hang up his jacket. I lay on the bed with Liam beside me and sang to him softly until he fell asleep, then I tried to sleep myself. I was tired but sleep wouldn’t come. I had hoped that the rhythmic rocking would help me,