Time of Fog and Fire

by Rhys Bowen

  “Good God,” Daniel said. “So I was right in thinking that Bella wasn’t exactly just the sweet and generous hostess that she seemed. I really was being treated like a prisoner there and my every move being watched. I wonder what her game is—or rather was, since her mansion will have been destroyed with the rest.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t Bella who killed Señor Garcia,” I said. “Maybe it was Tiny or even Francis. They seem devotedly loyal to her. If someone showed up on her doorstep who was clearly distressing her—maybe knew something incriminating about her, wanted money—I can see that Tiny would have thought he was doing her a favor by killing that person.”

  “Possibly,” Daniel agreed.

  “Don’t you think there was something odd about that relationship?” I asked.

  “Bella and Tiny? A relationship, you call it? Was it that and not just mistress and servant?”

  “I don’t know rightly,” I said. “More than mistress and servant. She definitely bossed him around and he told me that he longed to be back in the wide open spaces on a ranch but that he wouldn’t leave Bella. Why was that, do you think?”

  “She treated him well? He was putting away money for his future?” Daniel suggested. “Or he was secretly bleeding her of her money? Maybe he saw her as a cash cow and was robbing her blind behind her back.”

  “And if Señor Garcia knew something about her and threatened to expose her to the authorities, Tiny got rid of him in a hurry because he was protecting his own future,” I said.

  “Yes, that’s possible,” Daniel replied. “I wonder what she might have done? They say that everyone who comes to San Francisco is running away from something or has something to hide.”

  “She did tell me that her husband was a bully and she was well rid of him,” I said. “What if she persuaded Tiny to help her kill her husband? Then they sold the ranch in New Mexico and now she can’t let Tiny out of her sight because he knows too much. And she’s paying him well for his silence.”

  “Possible again,” Daniel said. “But I’m not sure how any of this could be proved. Especially now after the fire. The house will be ashes and presumably Señor Garcia’s body with it. And if his charred remains are found, it will be assumed that he was a servant who got trapped in the house by the fire. Or even killed in the earthquake and left there.”

  I nodded, realizing this was exactly what would happen. Bella would have escaped once again, and if she had taken that trunk of money with her, she would be able to resume her role of society hostess in another city. Except that … “I have one of her wigs,” I blurted out. “It’s here with my belongings.”

  “Bella wore a wig?” Daniel sounded amused. “And I was so impressed by her hair. What is the betting that her own hair is turning gray or falling out and she’s so vain that she wants to keep her youthful looks?” He paused. “Why did you take her wig?”

  “I don’t know. I thought if I caught up with her she might be grateful to have it back. But she obviously has more than one because she and Tiny were seen loading things into their carriage and then leaving the house after the quake and before the fire reached them.” I started to chuckle. “You could wear it, Daniel. Another perfect disguise.”

  “Oh, definitely.” Daniel laughed too. “And my several days of stubble wouldn’t give me away.” His grip around my shoulder tightened. “Oh God, Molly. What are we doing here? How did I ever get you into such a mess?”

  “You wrote me a strange letter and I surmised that you wanted me to come out to you.”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking, bringing my wife and son into such danger,” he said. “But I thought if you came to visit me, then I’d be—”

  “Safe?”

  “Not safe, but at least I’d have another pair of eyes to watch my back. And a witness should anything happen to me. And an aura of respectability with my wife and family around me. And since I’d had to promise the president and Wilkie that I’d tell no one where I was going or what I was doing, I had to hope that my very astute wife would pick up the clues in my letter. And you did, dammit.”

  “You’re not allowed to swear, Daniel.” I slapped his thigh.

  He laughed at this. “I’m hiding from people who tried to kill me once. I’ve lost my son. My wife is injured and the whole city is burning around us, but I’m not allowed to swear? Molly, I’ll say ‘dammit’ if I like.”

  From beyond the trees came the sound of an accordion and voices singing. It all sounded very cheerful and jolly, like a regular campout. But I knew that those people must be feeling the way we were and singing to keep up their spirits. I rested my head back against Daniel’s shoulder. “I wish it was morning,” I said. “All I want is to have Liam safely back with us.”

  “And to be far away from here,” Daniel said. “If I could find a way to move around without being noticed, I’d go to General Funston and tell him what I know. I’m sure he’d be interested to know that the beloved mayor and city attorney had lined their pockets with graft and corruption and that the respected police chief was a cold-blooded murderer.”

  “He might be in cahoots with them,” I said.

  “I doubt it. He’s a tough warrior. Don’t forget he distinguished himself fighting in Cuba with the president, and then he conquered the Philippines before he was posted here. I expect he is as straight as they come and disgusted by corruption.”

  From beyond the trees the sound of applause came toward us. And shouts and hoots. It was going to be a long night. Probably the longest night of my life.

  Twenty-seven

  I suppose I dozed from time to time but I was aware of any small movement through the forest—the hoot of an owl, the crack of a twig, the sounds of men going to relieve themselves among the bushes—far too close for comfort. The damp cold of the fog crept under the coat we had draped over us and it was impossible to get warm. The fog covered any exposed part of us with a layer of moisture and more drops dripped down from the branches above us. Daniel seemed to be breathing regularly so I didn’t want to move and wake him. By morning I had a horrible crick in my neck to add to the throbbing in my head and the dry mouth from a whole day without anything to drink. I was never more glad to see the first signs of dawn, although the fog was blotting out the rising sun and the sky beyond the branches. Birds started singing in a raucous chorus, crows cawing loudly to drown out lesser songbirds. Daniel sighed and tried to sit up.

  “My arm under your head has gone to sleep,” he complained. “What a miserable night. Shall we go and see if anyone is awake and has possibly made coffee?”

  “Do you think anyone will have had the foresight to rescue coffee from a collapsed house?” I asked. “And besides, you can’t risk being seen, Daniel. You must stay here while I go looking for Liam.”

  “I don’t want you wandering around alone,” he said. “I’m coming with you. I’m sure our noble police chief and his lieutenant will be occupied elsewhere.”

  “Be sensible, Daniel,” I snapped. “It’s not just those two. You said yourself it was a group of men who pushed you over that cliff. Any one of them could recognize you and inform the chief that you’re still alive.”

  “There must be some way of disguising myself,” he said.

  “We could take off my bandage and put it around your head,” I suggested.

  “Don’t be stupid. And expose your own wound to the dirt and air?”

  “Maybe we could share it? Let’s unwind it and see how long it is. And you could also see if my wound really needs to be covered.”

  “Molly, I don’t really think…”

  “Let’s just try it, Daniel. If the wound looks bad and there’s not enough bandage, then you can wind it back on again.”

  “I suppose…” he said and untucked the end of the bandage. I grunted as he came to the back of my head. I had obviously bled through and the dressing had stuck. This unwinding was pulling at it. “I’m not doing this,” he said.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I exclaimed.
“It’s your life, Daniel. Keep going and let’s see.”

  Slowly, painfully, he tore apart layer after layer. “There’s quite a good amount of it,” he said. “And a nice big gauze pad over the wound itself. That seems to be well and truly stuck, Molly. You certainly bled well. But we’ll not try to remove it until there is a clean dressing to take its place. And you’re right—they were quite generous with the bandage. There may just be enough for both of us. Hold on, let me get my penknife out of my pocket.”

  Soon he was rewinding my bandage around my head and then it was my turn to wind it around his.

  “I’m sorry, I know this is rather revolting,” I said. “At least the blood has dried.”

  “I’ve had worse things happen to me recently,” he said dryly.

  I made sure the bloodstained section went over part of his face. I examined him critically. “Yes, that might do the trick,” I said. “I think you could be recognized if someone really studied you, but with a quick glance all they’d see is the bandage and the blood.”

  I secured the end of the bandage.

  “Ready?” Daniel climbed stiffly out of the driver’s seat and came around to open my door. I stood up, my limbs also stiff and aching. My face, hair, and the bandage were all clammy with damp fog. The world around us was hazy and indistinct, all sounds muffled. Daniel tore off ferns and branches and covered the automobile pretty well.

  “I hope we can find it again.” I smiled as I said it. It felt strange to smile, as if it was a skill I had forgotten.

  “I hope so too,” he said. “But we’ll make sure we remember our route to the meadow. Starting with that big tree with the bark peeling off it.”

  He took my hand and we walked cautiously through the swirling whiteness toward where we hoped the meadow lay. The tents lay still for the most part. Beyond them families were curled together in sleep on the grass, their possessions piled around them. Only a few people here and there were awake, standing and staring out at the scene, arms wrapped about themselves to fend off the cold. At the table where stew had been served the night before, some soldiers were now setting up a new cauldron. We went over and found it contained oatmeal. This discovery made us go back for our plates and spoons and soon we had some warm breakfast inside us, also a drink of water, as a barrel had also been delivered with a dipper attached.

  I asked the soldiers if they knew where we might find the Chinese camping.

  “I heard that most of them went across the Bay to Oakland on the ferry,” one of them said.

  “They couldn’t all have got out that way,” another replied. “Those ferries were packed to the gills and the Chinese would have been the last they would have allowed to board, even for money.”

  “I heard there were Chinese camped down near the Panhandle,” a fresh-faced young soldier said, turning red when we all looked in his direction. He looked absurdly young to be in uniform and I found myself thinking about Liam. What if he wanted to go off and be a soldier one day? How could any mother let her son go to fight at such a tender age?

  Today I will find him, I told myself. Any minute now I will find him and he will be safe and unharmed and all will be well. Now all I had to do was believe it.

  We learned that the Panhandle was the name given to the narrow strip of green at the city end of the park. We had no idea if the fire had reached that first part of the park and if the Chinese were still there.

  “We should go in the automobile,” Daniel said. “This park stretches for many miles.”

  “I think we have to go on foot,” I said. “We’ve already seen what desperate people will do to get their hands on an automobile and be able to escape from the city. Next time they may have guns.”

  “But you’re still badly hurt, Molly. A blow to the head is no matter to be taken lightly. I don’t think you should walk.”

  “We can take it slowly and I’ll rest if I have to,” I said. “Besides, how do we know there are tracks suitable for an automobile through the park?” I managed a confident smile, more confident than I felt, as my eyes hurt me and my head throbbed every time I turned it. But desperation to find my son outweighed anything I may have been feeling.

  I could see he was still hesitating. “Daniel, I’ll be fine, honestly. And we’re right in the middle of the park here, so it can’t be too far to either end. And you know how far I used to walk back home in Ireland. Five miles a day to school for a start.”

  “You’re not a schoolgirl anymore, Molly,” he said, looking at me with concern. “I say we risk the auto. There are plenty of soldiers around who will come to our aid.”

  “And if they stop us because they think we’ve stolen the vehicle? Or they want to commandeer it? Or the police see us and recognize you?” I shook my head. “Too dangerous, Daniel. We’ll go on foot. I’ll make it just fine.”

  He shook his head. “You’re a stubborn woman, Molly Murphy Sullivan. But I have to admit you may be right.” He held out his hand. “Come on, then. Let’s get going.”

  A watery sun was beginning to push through layers of fog, surrounding us with a glowing and unreal light. The fog proved a useful ally as we walked through our own little world, not seeing or being seen. Amid the sweet and pungent smell of eucalyptus leaves we could detect the smell of smoke. As we came to more clearings we found more camps with people just stirring, but they were white folks like ourselves. No Chinese among them.

  And then finally someone told us that he had seen Chinese in a dell beyond the giant tree ferns. We hurried forward and came to the tree ferns, looming out of what had now become a smoke-tinged haze, strange and beautiful, taller than our heads. And then there was the dell beyond them, a circle of green grass surrounded by tall trees. Chinese people huddled together, most of them still sleeping. Some were already squatting beside campfires, attending to cooking pots. From birdcages, placed beside sleeping owners, or on top of piles of possessions, came early morning songs. I scanned the scene, looking for Li Na’s white tunic and black trousers. There were several such but each proved to be another woman, not her.

  More and more people were waking. We found Chinese who could understand English and asked, our question becoming more and more desperate each time. No, they did not know anyone called Li Na. No, they had not seen a white child. I remembered that she had only come to the city recently. She wasn’t born and raised in the city so fewer people would know her. I tried to tell myself that she was a sensible girl. Perhaps she was one of the first to get out of the city on a ferry. Perhaps she had taken my son across the Bay to Oakland, where they would have been quite safe from fire. All we had to do was find a way across to that city.

  “Do you think she managed to cross the Bay to Oakland with the other Chinese?” I asked Daniel. “Should we see if we can reach a ferry and go across to look for Liam there?”

  Daniel frowned. “I doubt if we can reach the ferry building,” he said. “That whole area of the city along the waterfront has gone up in flames. Surely they won’t be allowing people in where it has burned.”

  We were about to walk away when I heard someone calling my name. I turned to see Ellen coming toward me. “Missy Sullivan!” There was a look of concern on her face. “What you do here? You get hurt?”

  “Yes, Ellen,” I said. “I got hit on the head when I was trying to stop Li Na from running away with my son. Now I’m looking for them. You haven’t seen him, have you?”

  She shook her head. “Your boy? No, we thought you had your boy. After earthquake you were gone and we thought you took him to safety. Li Na took him, you say?”

  I nodded. “She ran with him down to Chinatown. Something about the Earth Dragon.”

  “Ah. Earth Dragon.” She nodded as if this made sense to her. “I don’t see Li Na since the earthquake,” she said. Then suddenly she recognized Daniel.

  “Mr. Sullivan?” she stammered. “But they say you dead.”

  “Not quite, Ellen.” Daniel smiled at her. “But please don’t tell anyone you’ve s
een me. There are still people around here who might want to kill me.”

  “Wah!” she said, shaking her head. “Too many bad people. But I’m happy you are still alive. I see those men follow you all time. And then they say you fall from cliff and I don’t think this is true.”

  “Quite right,” Daniel said.

  “Ellen, we’d love to come back and talk to you later,” I interrupted before Daniel could tell her the whole story of what happened to him, “but right now we’re desperate to find our boy. Could you ask your friends and family if they know anything about Li Na and our son? We don’t know where to look.”

  She nodded and went across to where a group of women were sitting around a campfire. A cooking pot was emitting a pungent and not too pleasant odor. She squatted beside them and an animated conversation took place. At last she got to her feet and came back to me.

  “They say Li Na dead.”

  “Dead? Are they sure?”

  “They say they see body of girl from Hong Kong. One who wear black and white of amah.”

  “And was my boy with her? Did they see his body?”

  More Chinese was shouted back to the campfire. Heads were shaken. Then one of the women let out a stream of Cantonese, waving her hand for emphasis.

  Ellen turned back to us. “That woman say she saw a European child in a wagon with some Chinese women. He was crying. She heard they were going to take him to the place where they putting orphans.”

  “Orphans?” I demanded. “Where is that?”

  Blank faces stared at me. “Can she point out the women who had my son with her?” I asked.