The Ghost in Roomette Four by Janet Dawson

Author:Janet Dawson
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: California Zephyr, trains, ghosts, paranormal seance, 1950s
ISBN: 978-1-56474-598-9
Publisher: SCB Distributors
Published: 2018-03-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Thanks for the ride.” Jill opened the passenger-side door and got out of the Ford. She carried her purse and a small case, packed with enough clothing and toiletries for her two nights away in Oroville.

“I should think you’d be tired of train travel,” Lucy said. “You just got back from a run last week.”

Jill smiled. “This is different. I’m not wearing a uniform, I don’t have to take dinner reservations, make announcements, or provide first-aid to passengers with motion sickness or kids with scraped knees. And I’m not filing a trip report when I get back.”

“Okay, okay.” Lucy laughed. “Have fun. I’ll pick you up Wednesday afternoon. Tell me again, what time will the train be here?”

“A quarter after four. I’ll see you then.” Jill shut the car door and waved as her sister drove away.

She was meeting Mike here at the Oakland Mole. After so many trips in her Zephyrette uniform, it felt different to be traveling as a passenger, instead of part of the train crew. This Monday morning in late July was beautiful, no fog for a change, with San Francisco visible in the distance over the sparkling waters of the bay. Jill wore a flared skirt with a palm frond print in blue, gold and tangerine and a blue short-sleeved blouse, and she carried a blue cardigan sweater. The skirt swirled around her legs as she walked toward the Mole.

On this warm, sunny morning, it was easy to dismiss what had happened last night at Tidsy’s apartment. Easy to scoff at that penetrating chill, the flickering lights, the way Tidsy’s glass of scotch seemed to move, of its own volition. The sharp rapping knocks that made all three of them jump. And the voice, if that’s what it was, muttering. It hadn’t gone on for long. But it had happened, and they’d all seen and heard it. Perhaps Madame Latour had been correct when she’d said the spirits didn’t want an intermediary such as a medium interfering with their lines of communication.

Jill shook herself, willing the memory to go away. It was daylight now, no spirits lurking here at the Mole.

The morning sun glittered on the shiny stainless steel cars that gave the train its nickname, the Silver Lady. Each of the cars in the consist had the legend California Zephyr centered over the windows. Below the windows was the name of the car.

Many passengers were already here on the platform or inside the Mole, checking their baggage, or queuing at the ticket office. To her left, a man and his wife, surrounded by four children, talked all at once as they sorted through their luggage, putting larger suitcases on a baggage cart. Then they gave their smaller bags to a Red Cap, one of the railroad station porters whose bright red headgear gave them the name. More Red Caps clustered inside and outside the Mole, waiting for the ferry from San Francisco, which would disgorge dozens of travelers needing assistance with their luggage.

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