The Night Train: A Novelette (The Strange Files of Modesty Brown Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

Case in front of
her. Bill's station is empty, a rocks glass upside down next to a white cloth.
Pinky's coat still draped along the back of the booth across from her.
    And
at the next booth the man in the fedora hat reading the paper. Only now does
she notice the headline:
    GAMING
COMMISSION INVESTIGATING CURSED DOMINOS, CAUTIONS PUBLIC.
    Her
silent hysteria is interrupted by small cluster of large men clattering into
the club car. The Conductor first, then two uniformed policemen.
    "No
need to worry folks!" the larger of the two large cops raises a beefy
hand. "Just a precautionary measure. If you'd please produce your tickets
and your identification, we can have you back to your cocktails in a
moment."
    Modesty
slams the case shut, slides it onto the seat next her and covers it with her
voluminous red wool coat. Chinese Dominoes. Who would believe it.
    Pinky
returns to the Club Car just behind the gaggle of cops. Her smile turns to
stone for split second and then turns to something else. Her eyes, once sharp,
turn vacant in a moment. Her posture turns into something limp and simpering.
Everything that had a moment ago been sharp and quick and glittering at once
turns dull and vague as she slides back into the booth.
    "Ladies."
    "Officers,"
Pinky says, fumbling for her ticket and identification. "I hope there's no
trouble we should know about?"
    "Nothing
serious, Miss. Just making sure everybody on the train is who they say they
are."
    Modesty's
jaw clenches, but as long as the name on her ticket and the name on her ID
booklet match, they would just move right along and there would be no problem.
And if they don't see the case, they won't ask.
    "Headed
to the City, ladies?" The officer thumbs through their booklets, as the
two women nod mutely.
    "And
what's your business there?" His tone is trying hard to be light,
conversational. But there is something behind it, like he is trying some kind
of trick.
    "My
business is my own," Modesty snaps, suddenly angry. She snatches her ID
booklet from officer's grip.
    "Oh
is that so?" He snatches the booklet back. "I’ll repeat: what
business do you have in the City, Miss....Miss Modesty Brown?"
    "I'm
a typist."
    "Ah.
A working girl."
    Modesty
really doesn't like his tone. She wants to bite him. Right on the meaty part of
his cheek. This is the kind of woman she's turning out to be: the kind that
fantasizes about biting police officers, while hiding a typewriter case filled
with two hundred and thirty six purloined Chinese Dominoes under her new red
coat.
    "So
what if I am?"
    "You'll
have to forgive my friend, officer," Pinky chirps in a high falsetto.
Suddenly her sentences seem to go up at the end, like a question.  She
sounds like something out of a radio comedy. "But an old school chum of
ours is getting married in the city? And she's not? Well, she's not the easiest
gal to get along with? And our friend Modesty here?" Now Pinky lowers her
voice, and crooks her finger so the officer will lean closer to hear, get
glimpse down her top and smell her Vol de Nuit perfume. "Well, Modesty was
once engaged ? To the groom?  For about three months?"
    "It
was almost a year, Pinky." Modesty amazes herself, how quickly she picks
up this jazzy line.
    "Potay-to,
Potah-to. Either way, this trip is not putting her in the best of moods? She's
not even being nice to me, and I'm her oldest friend? I'm sure you
understand?"
    The
officer gives a little chuckle under his breath, stifles a snort.
    "Understood.
Try and have a good trip, girls. And don't worry, Miss Modesty Brown. You won't
have to be a Career Gal for long. My ma says there's a lid for every pot."
    Modesty
thinks about how good her fist would feel connecting with his jaw, the bone
shattering under her knuckles like a teacup.
    They
tip their hats and the bluster of men exit the car. Within moments, Bill
arrives and places another Sidecar and another Gibson Girl on the table.
    "Brutes,"
he says in a whisper.
    Pinky and Modesty raise their