Time of Fog and Fire

by Rhys Bowen

  Thirteen

  I took several deep breaths as I stood on the doorstep of Bella Rodriguez’s house. Was this visit sheer foolishness? Nobody knew I was coming here. Shouldn’t I have told Mr. Paxton of my plan so that he knew where to look if I didn’t return? Or was I worrying about nothing? Nobody had anything negative to say about her. She appeared to be a respected society matron. But my husband had written about being well looked after by Bella and my husband was dead. I knew I would have to tread very carefully indeed. And that would not be easy with the current turmoil raging inside my head.

  I raised my hand and tugged on the bell. I heard it jangle inside and waited a long while until the front door opened. I suppose it was stupid of me to think that Mrs. Rodriguez would open her own front door, but I certainly wasn’t expecting to see a large Oriental man standing there. I had met many Chinamen in New York City but they had been small and thin. This man was a great hulk of a person with a long, drooping mustache and wearing what appeared to be black silk pajamas.

  “Yes?” he said, staring at me coldly. “You want?”

  The thought flashed through my mind that what I wanted was my husband alive again, but I forced myself to say, “Is this the residence of Mrs. Rodriguez? I wish to speak to her. My name is Sullivan.”

  I saw the flicker of response to this in his eyes although no other muscle moved on his face.

  “Come in,” he said.

  He opened the door wider to allow me to enter an impressive hallway. The floor was black-and-white marble tiles. There were classical statues and tall potted palms rising to a stained glass dome not unlike the one in the Palace Hotel. A staircase curved upward to our right. It was as impressive as any mansion I’d seen on the East Coast.

  “Wait there,” he said. “I see if madam is available.”

  The words came out staccato fashion. He went up the stairs, his slippers flapping on the marble steps. I waited, my heart thumping so loudly that I was sure it could be heard echoing in that lofty entrance hall. Minutes went by, but then I heard feet coming down the stairs again.

  I looked up but again it was not Mrs. Rodriguez who came toward me. It was another large man. This one was young and red-haired. Whereas the Chinaman looked as if he were made of granite, this one was chubby. What’s more he was dressed in Western garb and looked to me as if he had come straight from rounding up cattle on a range. And the thing that struck me most was that he was wearing a gun belt with a gun in it.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?” he asked. “You want to see Bella about something?”

  I went to meet him. “I’m Mrs. Sullivan. I traveled out from New York to visit my husband and I’ve just learned that he met with a terrible accident.”

  “You’re Daniel’s wife?” There was instantly compassion on that big weather-beaten face. “I am so sorry for your loss, ma’am. Bella was devastated when she heard the news. She had become so fond of your husband.”

  I nodded. “He wrote that Mrs. Rodriguez was so kind to him that I thought I should at least visit her to thank her for her hospitality before I go back to New York.”

  “Of course she’ll want to meet you,” he said. “Please, come in. We had no idea that his wife was coming out West. You must have traveled the moment you heard the bad news.”

  “I just heard it a few minutes ago,” I said. “I am still in shock.”

  “I can imagine. So were we all when we heard.” He went ahead of me, through double doors into a lovely octagonal room with windows looking out over the city. At least they would have looked over the city if the fog hadn’t hidden it.

  “Too bad the fog came in this afternoon,” he said. “We normally have a lovely view. Bella had this room built on purpose to sit here and look out. She loves this city. I only wish we could have shown it to you in happier circumstances.”

  He motioned to a chair upholstered in yellow brocade. I sat. “I’ll go and find her. I think she must still be taking her nap,” he said. “It’s been parties every night recently, what with the excitement of Caruso coming. Would you like some tea?”

  “Yes,” I said mechanically. “That would be nice, thank you.”

  I heard his feet clomping up the stairs. I waited. The room seemed surprisingly cold and I shivered. I hadn’t heard her approaching and I jumped when a voice right behind me said, “You poor, poor dear. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. Here, let Bella give you a hug.”

  I scrambled to my feet. She came toward me, arms open to envelop me. My first impression again was of size. It was only afterward that I realized she was not a big woman, but she created a large presence, thanks to the big sleeves and collar of her dress and a luxurious coil of black hair, piled up in the Spanish style and held in place by a gardenia. It was hard to tell how old she was. Her face was a perfect mask of makeup—white face powder, plucked eyebrows, rouged cheeks and lips. At home only women of dubious professions would wear that amount of face paint, but I presumed it must be acceptable here, if she was a beloved hostess.

  Her arms came around me and for one horrible second I thought I might break down and cry on her shoulder. God knows I needed a friend and sympathy right now. When she released me she must have seen the tears brimming in my eyes. “You go ahead and cry, my dear. We certainly cried enough when we heard, didn’t we, Tiny?”

  I looked up and saw that the chubby redhead had come back into the room. He nodded. “Bawled our eyes out. Even Francis.”

  “Francis?” I asked.

  “My Chinese butler. I know, it’s an odd name for a Chinaman but his real name is too hard to pronounce so I rechristened him. I said, ‘If you’re going to work for me, you can’t have some heathen name. And my favorite saint is Francis so that’s what you’ll be.’”

  She stopped talking then frowned at Tiny. “Did you not tell Ellen that we wanted tea?”

  “Yes, I ordered it. It should be here in a jiffy. I’ll go see.” He disappeared again.

  I looked after him with interest. “His name is Tiny?”

  “A private joke,” she said. “That’s what the other wranglers called him on the ranch because of his size. He took over as my ranch manager after Señor Rodriguez died and became so indispensable to me that I lured him with me when I sold up and came to the city. Now I rely on him completely.”

  As if on cue Tiny reappeared, carrying a tea tray. He poured a pale liquid into dainty cups with infinite care, considering the size of his hands. Then he handed a cup to me.

  “I hope you don’t mind, it’s a Chinese tea. We’ve become used to it because that’s what Ellen likes to serve.”

  It was too hot to drink but I took a sip. The sensation of unreality returned. To be sitting with a cowboy and a Spanish señora sipping China tea in a world of white fog. Any other time I would have relished the experience and looked forward to telling Sid and Gus about it. Now all I wanted was to be at home.

  I started when Bella touched my hand. “You poor little thing. You look all in. Where are you staying?”

  “I have a room at the Palace for tonight.”

  “Nonsense,” she said. “You must come and stay here.”

  “Oh, but I couldn’t possibly…” I began.

  She held up a white hand tipped with long, red-painted fingernails. “Of course you must stay here. I positively insist. It’s the least we can do. Stay as long as you want. I expect you’ll be arranging to take your husband’s body home, won’t you?”

  “I do want to, but…”

  “They’ve already buried him,” Tiny mentioned.

  “Then they’ll just have to dig him up again,” Bella said. “Don’t worry. I’ll have a word with them. I usually get my own way in this city.” She waved an imperious hand at Tiny. “Go and have the carriage brought around, then you can take Mrs. Sullivan down to the Palace to retrieve her things.”

  “I’m sure that’s not necessary,” I said. “I’ll be fine there tonight and I don’t know how much longer I can stay here. Besides, I have my young
son with me. A kind person is looking after him at the moment.”

  Bella laughed. “The more the merrier. How old is your child?”

  “Still a baby. Eighteen months old. I really don’t think—” but she interrupted, holding up an imperious hand. “Tiny, think who we might know with a crib to spare and tell Ellen to go down to Chinatown and find us a suitable nursemaid.”

  “Oh, no,” I interrupted. “I really don’t need a nursemaid. I won’t be staying—”

  “Everyone in San Francisco has a Chinese nursemaid,” she said, waving my protests aside as Tiny left the room. “They’re awfully good at it. He’ll be treated like a young lord. So that’s settled then. You go back with Tiny as soon as the carriage comes around, and he’ll arrange to have your things packed up and sent up here. At least we can make your stay as pleasant as possible in such awful circumstances. Much better than staying at a hotel with strangers.” She put a hand on my shoulder. “Drink up your tea. You look whiter than a sheet and tea is marvelous for shock.”

  I obeyed, sipping mechanically and feeling the hot, smoky liquid trickle down my throat. I tried to think of a good reason not to accept her generous offer but my mind was still refusing to work when she added, “Ah, here’s Tiny with the carriage now. Off you go.”

  Tiny came into the room and took my arm.

  “Take good care of her, Tiny,” she called after us. “Bring her back to us quickly.”

  The carriage took off with Tiny sitting across from me. It seemed I was going to be a guest of Mrs. Rodriguez whether I wanted to or not.

  Fourteen

  I heard Liam’s wails long before I reached my room at the Palace Hotel. I opened the door to see my son, red-faced and sweating, standing up in his crib while Mr. Paxton stood beside him waving his favorite bear, to no avail.

  “Mama!” Liam shrieked and flung himself at me. I scooped him up into my arms.

  “He’s been inconsolable ever since he woke up,” Mr. Paxton said. He looked thoroughly exhausted. “I’ve tried everything—food, drink, singing…”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “Waking up in a strange room with no sign of his mother must have been the last straw for him. He’s been awfully good for four days.”

  Liam’s wails had now subsided to sobs that shook his whole body as he buried himself against my shoulder. I stroked his hair, drenched with sweat, and patted his back. “It’s all right,” I said. “Mama is here now. Everything is all right.”

  Except that it wasn’t. It would never be. He’d grow up not even remembering his father. He’d grow up poor unless I could find some kind of job.

  “So did you manage to locate your husband?” Mr. Paxton asked.

  “I did, but not in a way I hoped.” I took a deep breath before I forced the words out. “He’s dead, Mr. Paxton. My Daniel is dead.”

  He looked at me in horror and disbelief. “Dead? Then you weren’t wrong in your suspicions that he was in danger.”

  I glanced at the door, conscious that Tiny must be lingering outside. “They say it was a horrible accident,” I said. “He fell from a cliff top in the dark.”

  “From a cliff? Do they know what he was doing on a cliff in the dark?”

  I shook my head. “I spoke to the police. Nobody seems to know anything, except that someone reported hearing a cry and found that the cliff had given way. Oh, and one person reported seeing two men standing together a little earlier.”

  Mr. Paxton came over to me and put a hand on my arm. “I am so sorry, Mrs. Sullivan. What an awful shock for you. Is there anything I can do?”

  I shook my head, his kindness bringing me close to tears again. “Nothing. There’s nothing anyone can do. I would like to have his body shipped home so I can bury him by his father’s grave, but they’ve already had the funeral and he’s already buried here. Mrs. Rodriguez says she has the clout to make them dig him up again. We’ll have to see.”

  “Mrs. Rodriguez? So you did go to see her?”

  I nodded. “I did, and she is being so kind. She’s insisting that I come to stay with her until everything is sorted out. She’s sent her carriage and one of her employees to help me pack everything up. He’s waiting outside right now.”

  Tiny must have been listening because he entered the room. “Show me what’s to go, Mrs. Sullivan,” he said. Mr. Paxton and Liam both eyed him nervously. “That trunk can be taken down, thank you, Tiny,” I said. “Then I’ll just need to collect the things I took out for my baby. They can fit in the carpetbag. Lucky I hadn’t unpacked earlier, isn’t it?”

  Tiny hoisted the trunk onto his shoulder as if it weighed nothing at all. “I’ll be right back for the rest,” he said.

  As soon as he was gone Mr. Paxton moved closer to me. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked. “Do you really want to go to her house, after all your suspicions?”

  “I don’t have much option,” I said.

  “You do. We can send that man away saying that you’ve changed your mind and you’d rather stay here. I’ll tell him that I am happy to put you on the train back to New York.”

  I looked across at the door, where I expected Tiny to return any moment.

  “But I do want to find out all I can about what happened to Daniel, and Mrs. Rodriguez is being really kind. And she can get Daniel’s body exhumed for me.”

  “If you really think that’s for the best. That man … well, I don’t like the thought of you going off with him. He doesn’t look entirely trustworthy, if you want my opinion.”

  “We are in the Wild West, Mr. Paxton. I suppose it’s only natural that men wear guns and cowboy hats and Mrs. Rodriguez herself seems very civilized. She lives in a mansion with marble statues…” I broke off, unable to convince myself any longer.

  Mr. Paxton looked into my eyes with concern. “Well, you know where I am if you need me. I should be here at least until after the first performance at the opera house. Send a note to me and I’ll come running.”

  “You’re really very kind,” I said. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for us. I hope to see you again before you go.”

  “I hope so too,” he said. “I wish you all the luck in the world. You’re a fine lady. And a brave one. You’ll get through this if anyone can.”

  He took my hand and held it in his as Tiny came back into the room.

  “I still need to pack my odds and ends,” I said. “Liam, you better go back in the crib while I get things done.”

  “Give him to me,” Mr. Paxton said. This time Liam went to him with no outburst.

  I stuffed everything into the carpetbag. “You know where I’m staying, don’t you?” I said. “Mrs. Bella Rodriguez up on California Street.” I said the words clearly, wanting Tiny to hear that I had an ally here if necessary.

  Mr. Paxton nodded as he handed Liam back to me. Tiny took the carpetbag and we walked in solemn procession back to the elevator and then out to the carriage.

  When we arrived back at Bella’s house she was waiting for me and made a big fuss of Liam.

  “Look, Francis,” she said. “A baby in the house. Isn’t that lovely. Come and let me show you the nursery, my dear Mrs. Sullivan.”

  I followed her up the stairs. Then up another flight. “I thought we’d put him up here so he won’t be disturbed by noise,” she said. “I hold a lot of parties and they can get loud at times.” She went ahead of me into a pretty, bright room with a bed covered in a white chenille quilt and a white dresser against the wall. There was a braided rug on the floor and a flowery washbasin in the corner. “We have a crib coming over and Ellen’s gone to find a nursemaid. Now come and see your room.”

  She led me down the stairs again. “I thought you might want to sleep in the room where your husband last slept,” she said. “It’s definitely the nicest bedroom.”

  It was a fine room at the side of the house. There was a little balcony outside the window and a creeper twined around the railing. The view faced the bigger an
d more extravagant mansions at the top of Nob Hill. Against one wall was a big brass bed with a satin quilt on it. And there was a fine mahogany wardrobe, a chest, and a vanity table. And a radiator under the window.

  “As you can see, I like my creature comforts,” she said. “It’s not particularly cold here but it can get damp at night and the heat comes on at six o’clock. You’ll be quite comfortable and the bathroom is across the hall. I’ll have towels sent up. Always plenty of lovely hot water. Have a good long soak. I always find that helps when I’m wound up.”

  Tiny came in with the trunk. “The crib has arrived. I’ll bring it up,” he said. “Oh, and Ellen’s back with the nursemaid.”

  “That was quick. Good for Ellen. She always knows where to find the right people,” Mrs. Rodriguez said. “Send them up here.”

  We waited and soon an elderly Chinese woman came in, dressed in the traditional manner with black baggy trousers. Although her face was wrinkled like an old prune, her hair was still jet black and pulled back severely into a bun. Behind her was a younger Chinese girl, also wearing black trousers but with a crisp white tunic over them. Both of them both bowed to Mrs. Rodriguez.

  “I find good nursemaid, missus,” Ellen, the elderly Chinese woman, said. “She work for white family before. She take good care of little boy. Her name Li Na.”

  “Who did you work for, Li Na?” Mrs. Rodriguez asked.

  Li Na stepped forward and bowed shyly. “I work for English family in Hong Kong,” she said. “Then my brother come here to America and say there is good money to be made in Gold Mountain so I come with him.”

  “This is Mrs. Sullivan and her son’s name is?”

  “Liam,” I said.

  The young Chinese girl giggled, holding her hand in front of her mouth. “That funny,” she said. “Lee-na and Lee-am. We made to go together.”

  Then she reached out and took him from my arms and to my surprise he didn’t protest, looking at her face with wonder. “We go up to your room and play with toys, yes?” she asked. And she whisked him away.

  “Looks like you’ve hit the jackpot again, Ellen,” Bella said. “Well done. And it will only be Mrs. Sullivan and Tiny for dinner tonight. I promised I’d attend a little gathering at the mayor’s house and I can’t really get out of it. Besides, I think Mrs. Sullivan might rather have a quiet meal alone on a tray in her room. Isn’t that right?”