Time of Fog and Fire: A Molly Murphy Mystery (Molly Murphy Mysteries) (24 page)

As I came down the stairs my driver was emerging from the living room.

“They left some good stuff behind,” he said, grinning. Now that he wasn’t wearing his goggles I could see he was really young, with a cheeky sort of face. The sort of face that could easily get into mischief. His jacket was bulging where he had crammed it full of items he was presumably hoping to steal.

“I don’t think you should take things,” I said. “You can charge people what you like to drive them, but stealing is wrong.”

“Lady, the fire will be here tonight. It will all go up in flames,” he said. “And tell you what—since I made out so well here, I’ll let you off with fifty bucks. Now let’s get out of here while we can.”

I found I was looking at the cellar door. It had unlatched itself and was partially open. I was so tempted to go down and check on things. Then I thought—if they were loading everything they could into their carriage, that trunk of money would have gone with them. There was no way they were leaving it to burn. Or that Tiny was leaving it to burn if Bella didn’t know about it. I was beginning to think more and more that Tiny had some kind of hold over Bella and was using her, like a puppet master. And now it was probable that I’d never know the true nature of their relationship.

My driver went ahead of me, out of the front door. The world outside was now in gloomy twilight—the rays of the setting sun glowing red through the smoke from the fires like the light coming up from hell. My eyes watered and stung from the soot that hung in the air. I had stopped for a second on the threshold to wipe them before I came out of the house. At that moment a shot rang out. There was a cry and my driver pitched forward down the steps, candlesticks and a carriage clock spilling from his jacket as he fell and clattering down the steps to the street. Men in uniform walked up to him. One of them kicked the body.

“Seems like they’ll never learn,” one of them said. “What do we do with the loot? Put it back in the house?”

“Pity to let it melt,” another said and threw the candlesticks into the back of a horse-drawn vehicle that was standing nearby. It looked like a delivery cart that a grocer or butcher would use—light and fast.

I had remained in the shadow of the doorway, not daring to move.

Suddenly one of them spotted me.

“There’s another of them!” one of the soldiers called out. He raised his weapon in my direction. I had a split second to think. I could retreat inside again, locking the door, or I could face them and tell them the truth. It flashed through my head that if I locked myself in, they could storm the place and have a good reason to shoot me. Being trapped seemed worse than facing them.

“Don’t shoot!” I cried as I came out through the front door.

There was the crack of a rifle and a bullet whizzed past my head.

“Don’t shoot. I live here. I’m just taking my own possessions,” I screamed. “Come and look if you like. That man you shot has nothing to do with me. I paid him to drive me here, looking for my baby.”

I guess the panic in my voice and the bandage around my head made them hesitate.

“It’s a woman,” I heard one of them say.

I came down the steps and walked right up to those weapons pointed at me.

“Look at what I’m taking,” I said. “My baby’s change of diapers. The toy he sleeps with. My own hairbrush and change of clothes.” I dropped the bundle in front of them and it fell open.

They could clearly see nothing sparkling or shining.

“I came back here because I’ve lost my baby,” I said and I heard the catch in my voice. “I thought the nursemaid might have brought him back here. She took him to Chinatown and now it’s all up in flames. I don’t know where to find him. I don’t know what to do now.” And to my embarrassment I burst into tears.

It seemed the soldiers were human after all. One of them put a hand on my shoulder.

“You’ll find him,” he said. “Everyone is in one of the parks. Now you need to get out of here. The fire will be over the hill before you know it. Is that your automobile?”

I looked at it. If I left it here, it would be burned. And there would be time to return it to its rightful owner when things settled down, if things ever settled down again. And if I told them it belonged to the man they had just shot, they might well commandeer it, leaving me to walk.

“I was allowed to borrow it by its owner,” I said.

“Then you should get going right now. You know how to drive it?”

“Yes,” I said. This was a lie but I had been with Daniel enough times to have some idea of how to drive an automobile.

I gathered up the bundle again and stuffed it into the passenger seat.

At that moment more shots rang out farther down California Street and dark figures could be seen, running in our direction. The soldiers scrambled back into their cart and off they went, guns at the ready, leaving me quite alone in the gathering murk. From over the hill came the crash, crackle, and roar of the approaching fire. I looked back at the house. Should I close that front door before I left and try to lock it again? Then I realized there was nothing I could do to save the house. It would go up in flames with its neighbors.

I went around to the driver’s door and climbed into the seat.
Think,
I told myself. How did Daniel start an automobile? Then I remembered. He inserted a handle somewhere in the front and cranked the engine. Did all automobiles require such a handle and where would I find it?

I searched around and found it lying on the floor behind the seat—a bent handle that should be inserted somewhere at the front of the vehicle. Was there something that needed to be done first? I stared at the dials and knobs on the dashboard. At the back of my mind there was something to do with “choke,” but I could not recall what it was. I was having enough trouble trying to make my brain think clearly. The fog still lingered in my head, making any thought physically painful. And now, after the scare of watching my driver shot and the bullet missing my own head by inches, I was overcome with tiredness. I’d have liked nothing more than to curl up on that seat and just sleep.

The fire had now reached the top of the hill. The outline of the newly built Fairmont Hotel was now highlighted against a sea of red and black. I had to make a decision right away. Either I started the automobile or I ran. I went around to the front of the hood and looked for a hole. It was there, plain and obvious, right under the radiator grille. The crank handle fitted into it with ease. I held it and yanked with all my might. Nothing happened. I yanked again. Nothing. Not even a cough or a hiccup. How many times would I have to turn it before the engine fired? I remembered Daniel swearing on occasion when the auto had not started right away or the handle had jerked back, hitting him.

I was crying now. Tears of frustration were running down my cheeks. Then I thought—wait, it’s facing downhill. If I release the brake won’t it roll forward?
And if I want to stop it again?
a voice asked. I pictured myself gathering speed and crashing into a pile of rubble, or worse still, a fleeing family. But it was my only hope. If I could coast down the hill, I’d be able to outrun the fire. I climbed back into the automobile. With trembling hands I released the handbrake. The vehicle started to move forward. The street ahead of me was devoid of life. If I could make it to the bottom of the hill, I’d reach Van Ness and be safe … if I could stop it again.

I pressed the foot pedal I thought might be the brake and was pleased to feel the auto slowing. I stared ahead of me, grim determination on my face, and inched the automobile down the hill. I was aware of a man running up the hill toward me and it struck me that perhaps this was another soldier and I’d be shot for stealing the auto. He was a young man in a dark suit, not a uniform, and it wasn’t until he ran right past me that I recognized him.

I jammed on the brake with all my might. The auto didn’t want to stop and slid for a good while, creating a horrible smell of burning rubber. But I put my whole weight into it, and tugged on the handbrake as well and eventually the tires hit the curb and stopped. I stood up in my seat. The man was still running up the hill.

“Daniel!” I screamed. “Daniel, it’s me!”

He turned, peered down through the gloom, presumably not recognizing the person with the bandaged head. I waved. Screamed again. He was still staring. Then suddenly he ran back to me.

“Molly? Oh my God. What happened to you? What are you doing here? They evacuated everybody. I’ve been searching all over. Going crazy with worry about you.”

He came around to the driver’s door as he shouted at me. I climbed out and he wrapped me into his arms. “You poor thing. Your head … Are you badly hurt?”

“I was knocked out for a while. Quite a long time actually. And I lost my memory. I thought I was still a girl in Ireland.”

“What happened to you?”

“A wall fell on me,” I said. “I was trying to find Liam.”

“Liam? Where is he? What happened to him?” His voice was sharp with fear.

“The nursemaid ran off with him when the first quake hit. She ran with him to Chinatown. Something about their belief in the Earth Dragon. I don’t know. I ran after her but I couldn’t catch her. And then another quake came and I saw a wall falling onto me. And when I woke up I was in some kind of makeshift hospital. So I’ve been trying to find him. Chinatown is all ablaze. Nobody can still be there.”

“And the auto? Where did you get it?”

“A long story,” I said. “But I didn’t know how to start it. I was going to coast down the hill and hope to stop at the bottom.”

“Thank God you didn’t. You’d have burned out the brakes and ended up crashing. Here. Go around to the passenger seat and I’ll get it started.”

“The crank’s still in the front,” I said. “I wasn’t strong enough.”

“Did you pull out the choke first?” he asked, reaching in to touch one of the knobs.

“I knew there was something I should be doing, but I wasn’t sure what.” I climbed into the passenger seat, taking my bundle onto my lap.

He bent and jerked the handle. On the second try the engine coughed, then roared into life. With a satisfied smile Daniel climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Now let’s get out of here while we can,” he said and we drove down the hill just as the first sparks started to fall like rain.

Twenty-five

I think we both held our breath until we crossed Van Ness. The soldiers at the checkpoints were surprised to see us, the area having been evacuated. They waved us to a halt, and then stood around the auto. I saw a couple of them fingering their guns.

“Daniel Sullivan, New York police,” Daniel said. “I don’t have my identification badge. It was lost with my clothing, but I have to get this injured woman to safety.”

I had often admired his confidence that bordered on cocky arrogance and I certainly appreciated it at that moment. One of them murmured, “Yes, sir.” They stood back and let him drive across Van Ness, continuing along California Street. I sneaked a glance at him. “You gave them your real name. And you’re not in disguise. Isn’t that dangerous?”

“They are army from the Presidio. Nothing to do with the city. And I figure the local authorities have too much on their plate at the moment to bother with me. We need to find Liam and then get out of here as fast as we can. Where did the automobile come from? Did Bella lend it to you? I didn’t realize she had one.”

“No. She and Tiny made their escape this morning,” I said. “In their carriage. This auto had been stolen by a young opportunist, who was making money by giving people rides at inflated prices. He asked me for a hundred dollars.”

Daniel whistled. “I suspect you didn’t give it to him.”

“Luckily I didn’t have to.”

“And where is he now?”

“He was shot by the soldiers for looting as he came out of Bella’s house,” I said. “Frankly I wasn’t too sorry. They tried to shoot me too, only they missed. And I managed to convince them that all I was taking from the house were my personal effects and my baby’s clothing. I think even they believed me when they saw a pile of diapers.” For a moment having Daniel beside me again had made me forget my biggest worry. But with the mention of Liam’s diapers my smile faded and he saw the anguish in my face.

Daniel reached across and covered my hand with his. “We’ll find him,” he said. “Don’t worry. It will all be all right. At least we’ve got each other now. I’ve been looking for you all day. I came to the house as soon as I could get there after the quake and it was deserted but with apparently little damage. So I thought, naturally, that Bella had taken you off to safety with her. Then I checked the nearest parks where people were setting up tents. And then I thought, no—Bella wouldn’t want to sleep in a tent. She’d have vacated the city for somewhere safer. I was picturing you and Liam safe across the Bay in Oakland or in one of the towns down the Peninsula. And I told myself it was only a matter of time before we found each other again.” He glanced across at me. He had not had a haircut or a shave in some time and his head was a mass of wild dark curls. His chin was dark with stubble. He looked incredibly roguish and handsome. “But when they said the fires were coming I thought I had to make doubly sure that you had not come back to Bella’s house.”

“Thank heavens you did or we wouldn’t have found each other,” I said. “It’s a miracle really. Now if we can find our boy, that will be the second miracle.” A small sob escaped unbidden. “Oh God, Daniel. What are we going to do?”

“We’ll find him.” Daniel repeated. He sounded confident but the way he pressed his lips together showed me that he too was fighting with emotion.

“But where? He could be anywhere.”

“The Chinese will stick together. They always do,” he said, nodding as if he was just thinking this through. “So if this Chinese nursemaid has him, he’ll be with the rest of Chinatown. Someone will know.”

Night was falling fast. Along the sidewalks—or what remained of the sidewalks—campfires were burning, as families tried to cook a meal outside their damaged homes. These were the only form of light as there were no streetlamps and it became harder to pick our way forward. But behind us, looking up to Nob Hill, the sky was lit with a red glow. I had no doubt that Bella Rodriguez’s mansion was burning, and I found myself thinking about Señor Garcia’s body in the trunk. Surely they hadn’t taken that with them. And if it was still there it would be burned with everything else and nobody would ever know that a murder had been committed, or why.