Time of Fog and Fire

by Rhys Bowen

  Then the light faded and we were left in darkness. A lamp glowed in one of the windows. Liam started fussing and I realized he hadn’t eaten for quite a while. It was hard being dependent on others for our next meal, and even harder for a small child who hadn’t had any milk for two days now. If only I had still been nursing him—that would have solved everything. My own stomach reminded me that I too had not eaten since lunchtime. I began to think it had been stupid of me to insist on coming with Daniel. What if the general didn’t return until midnight? Daniel got out of the auto and took Liam for a walk, but there wasn’t much to see in the darkness and he was becoming decidedly cranky.

  “I don’t think it was the wisest move to insist on coming with me,” Daniel said. “What if we’re stuck here for hours? The child needs to eat.”

  One thing I have never tolerated was someone else reminding me of failings I already knew about.

  “Very well.” I opened the door and got out. “I’ll go and find the mess hall.”

  “Molly, you can’t just walk around on an army base,” Daniel said.

  “You’ve just accused me of depriving my son of food. I’m going to rectify that.”

  And I strode off, ignoring his calls. When I reached the parade ground I encountered a couple of soldiers coming down the steps of one of those colonial buildings. I went right up to them and they reacted with surprise at being approached by a strange woman

  “I’m sorry to trouble you,” I said. “But my husband has a meeting with General Funston. However the general hasn’t shown up yet. We’ve been waiting for hours and I’ve a baby boy with us who needs to eat something. I don’t suppose you’d be kind enough to raid your mess hall and bring us something to eat? Anything would do—a crust of bread, a piece of fruit.”

  “Stay there,” one of them said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  I waited and soon he came back with a plate containing a sausage, mashed potato, and boiled cabbage. “The best I could do,” he said. “I don’t know if your child can eat any of this but it’s what they’re serving in mess tonight. We’re on short rations too as our supplies have gone to feed the city.”

  I thanked him kindly and returned triumphant. Liam ate the mashed potato and cabbage with relish while Daniel and I divided the sausage. With food in his stomach Liam fell asleep on my shoulder. The night turned chilly with a cold breeze blowing off the water. The fog crept in again. I don’t know how long we waited, but it seemed like a long while. Eventually, though, a pair of auto headlights cut through the night and a vehicle came to a halt beside us. The driver got out, went around to open the passenger door, and General Funston himself stepped out. Daniel went to intercept him as he headed for one of the white houses. I only heard snatches of their exchange as the wind was now blowing strongly, but Daniel came back to me. For a dreadful moment I thought the general had refused to see him but Daniel opened my door.

  “The general has invited us to come in,” he said.

  We went up the steps and were greeted by a woman.

  “I’m Eda Funston,” she said. “Do come in.”

  “Daniel Sullivan. My wife, Molly, and son, Liam.”

  She smiled at Liam, who was now stirring and looking around with interest. Then she led us through to a most interesting living room, its walls decorated with spears and ceremonial blankets and other primitive objects.

  “From my husband’s many campaigns,” she said, waving a hand to the walls. “I can’t tell you how relieved I was when he received this posting back to the good old U.S.A. and I didn’t have to contend with snakes and insects and unbearable heat.”

  “It must be hard being an army wife,” I said. “My own husband is a police officer and that’s not easy either.”

  “I’m sure it’s not.” She looked at me with compassion. “And you were both injured in the quake, were you?”

  “Only slightly,” I said before Daniel could deny this.

  “Was your home destroyed?”

  “We are just visiting here from New York and I was able to rescue a few items of clothing so we’re luckier than most…” I broke off as General Funston himself entered the room.

  “Now then, what did you say your name was?” he asked. “And what is this matter of grave importance?”

  “Captain Sullivan, New York police,” Daniel said. “Currently on assignment for the president.” He turned to me. “And this is my wife…”

  “We have met, General,” I said. “Although I believe I looked a little different at that meeting. At the party at the Crocker house?”

  He frowned then recognition dawned. “Mrs. Sullivan. Of course. You look rather battle fatigued. Sit down. Can I offer you a drink?”

  “I wouldn’t say no to a whiskey, sir,” Daniel said. Funston went over to a sideboard and poured from a decanter. It all seemed so incredibly civilized after what we had gone through, almost like stepping into another world.

  “And for you, little lady? A brandy, maybe?”

  I didn’t like brandy but I thought it might be beneficial given the circumstances. I nodded my thanks.

  “I won’t keep you long, General,” Daniel said. “I know you must be exhausted and wanting your dinner. But I have information that can only be given to you. Information of the gravest nature.”

  General Funston handed me the brandy glass with a generous amount in it. Liam eyed it with interest so I put it down on a side table, well out of his reach, and held him firmly on my lap. This was not the kind of room to let him wander in.

  “Information?” the general asked Daniel.

  “What I am telling you is strictly confidential, General, but since you have imposed martial law here, you are the only one empowered to act upon it. It concerns corruption charges against the mayor, the city attorney, and the chief of police. I was sent here purportedly on another matter but was also instructed to make contact with a federal investigator who had disappeared. I did make contact. I learned that evidence had been obtained and the parties were to be charged in federal court on April 18.”

  General Funston had to smile at the irony of this. “A lucky escape, wouldn’t you say?”

  He looked at Daniel, shaking his head. “I think that any such charges might have to be dropped, given the circumstances. For one thing all evidence has probably gone up in smoke. City Hall is a blackened ruin. The Hall of Justice is no more. And furthermore these men are currently being hailed as heroes. Mayor Schmitz has been working tirelessly, going from camp to camp, raising spirits, promising to get the city rebuilt as soon as possible. Police Chief Dinan’s men have been instrumental in getting people safely evacuated ahead of the blaze and then in helping to stop looting. I don’t have the authority to arrest them, and I suspect that in the minds of the country current heroism will outweigh former corruption.”

  “There’s more that you should know,” Daniel said. “The federal investigator I told you about was murdered, by Chief Dinan’s men. I don’t know whether the chief was present at the time but I’d like to wager he ordered the attack.”

  Funston’s eyebrow shot up. “You have proof of this?”

  “I was with him,” Daniel said. “We had arranged a meeting at a remote cliff top, because he feared for his life. I met him there. He started to tell me what he had uncovered. Suddenly men emerged from the darkness and we were both hurled over the cliff. I was luckier. I managed to grab onto a bush that held me. He fell face forward to the rocks below. They thought they had killed us both.”

  “Good God,” Funston said. I heard an intake of breath from his wife.

  “I climbed down to him but he was beyond help,” Daniel said. “Then an idea came to me. We were about the same size and build and this man’s face was battered beyond recognition. I changed identities with him. Removed his wallet and left my New York police badge in his pocket. Then I went into hiding.”

  Funston was still scowling. “And you say Chief Dinan was part of this?”

  “As the men walked away
one of them laughed. An unpleasant laugh of triumph.” Daniel was looking at him, his face expressionless. “I heard that laugh again yesterday. It came from either Chief Dinan or his henchman.”

  There was a long pause. Liam had snuggled against me and was falling asleep.

  “I do have another piece of evidence,” Daniel went on. “I rescued the key to the safe-deposit box from the dead man. I presume there is evidence to support the corruption charges in that box.”

  “If the bank is still standing,” Funston said with a grim smile. “If the contents of the boxes are not ashes by now.”

  Daniel sighed and nodded. “You may be right.”

  “You say you were sent by the president himself,” Funston said. “I suggest you write all of this in a report and let him decide how to proceed. As I just said to you we need these men at this moment to prevent anarchy and despair. But it will be up to President Roosevelt if he wishes to reopen this case in the future, and if you are prepared to testify.”

  “Of course,” Daniel said. “I have been a police officer all my life. Justice is paramount to me.”

  “Brave man. I like that.” Funston nodded. “But you do understand that my hands are tied at this moment?”

  “Of course.” Daniel stood up. “We should be going. We have detained you long enough.”

  “Where are you staying?” Mrs. Funston asked.

  “We’ve been sleeping in a borrowed automobile in the park,” I said. “I was staying with Mrs. Rodriguez, but she has fled and her house has burned.”

  “Then why don’t you stay here? We’ve an extra bedroom and I’m sure Frederick wouldn’t mind…” She looked toward her husband for affirmation.

  “By all means.” General Funston nodded curtly, leaving me feeling unsure whether he was really welcoming us or not.

  “Oh, no, sir, really we couldn’t impose when you are so busy,” I said. “We’re planning to leave the city tomorrow if the trains are running again.”

  “I understand the track has been repaired and the first train came in today with more supplies,” General Funston said. “So stay the night here, by all means.”

  “And in the morning if you’ll have someone drive us to the ferry terminal, you will have the use of an extra automobile,” Daniel said. “I’m sure you could use one.”

  “Absolutely. You’re leaving it for us?”

  “It wasn’t ours,” I said. “Its driver was shot for looting and we had to borrow it to outrun the fire. But it didn’t belong to the dead man in the first place.”

  Mrs. Funston stood up. “Frederick, come and eat. And Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan—let me show you to your room, and then please join us for dinner.”

  After so much terror and hardship it was almost too much to bear. I found tears welling into my eyes. A clean bed. Water to wash in. I retrieved the belongings I had salvaged from Bella’s house and was able to change Liam into clean clothes before we laid him to sleep. I couldn’t brush my hair because of the bandages. How I was dying to get rid of those clumps and tangles but I suspected I’d have to wait until we were back in New York City. And how sweet it was to think that I was actually returning home. We went down to join the general and his wife at their table. Pork chops and wine had never tasted so good. I was glad I had only taken a sip of the brandy because that one glass of wine was making me feel light-headed. We listened to tales of the campaign in the Philippines and we were being served coffee by a smart young batman when I remembered I hadn’t told the general my part in the story.

  “How well did you know Mrs. Rodriguez, General?” I asked him.

  “I attended social functions at her home occasionally,” he said. “Apart from that, I knew nothing about her.”

  I took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I found a body at her house.”

  “After the quake, do you mean?”

  “No, before the quake. A man had been killed and stuffed into a trunk in her cellar. It was the night before the earthquake. I planned to tell Daniel and let him decide what to do in the morning. Only I was shaken out of my bed and then the nursemaid ran off with my son, so the murder was never reported.”

  He looked grave. “You suspect that Mrs. Rodriguez was responsible for this man’s death?”

  “I don’t know. It was her home and this was the man who had bought her ranch and was paying her a visit. But she didn’t seem pleased to see him. In fact she was distinctly agitated.” I toyed with my coffee spoon. “So I have to believe that either she killed him, or had him killed, or one of her employees thought they were doing her a good turn by killing him.”

  “She had that large cowboy type in attendance, didn’t she?”

  “She did. And also a Chinese man.”

  “The cowboy—he went everywhere with her, but there was something wild about him, wasn’t there? Something not quite civilized, if you know what I mean.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” I said.

  “This is a tricky one.” General Funston sucked through his lips. “We have a city with maybe five thousand dead. Mrs. Rodriguez’s home is in ashes. The body will have burned with the house and with it any proof of who the person was and how he died. I don’t like anyone getting away with murder but on this occasion shall we say I’ve got better fish to fry. And we may need Bella Rodriguez’s money to rebuild the city.”

  I swallowed back the bad taste in my mouth. “So she’ll go free?”

  “We’re under martial law. I’ve ordered my men to shoot looters on sight and I’m pretty sure unjust deaths have resulted, but I have to keep the peace no matter what. I’m afraid a civilian murder is outside my jurisdiction. And Bella Rodriguez was a great benefactor of the city, so one understood.”

  I looked him straight in the face. “You’re a soldier. Murder comes easily to you.”

  “I assure you it doesn’t, Mrs. Sullivan,” he said. “I’ve regretted every man I’ve had to kill. But I’ve always believed I’ve been working for the greater good. And at this moment the greater good is keeping order in a place of utter devastation. And this is the West Coast. Order is different here. You’ll be back in New York, where there is law and order. In many ways this is still the Wild West. Life is cheap. Winner takes all. That’s just the way of it.”

  “Then I’m really glad we’re going home,” I said. I stood up, nodded my thanks to Mrs. Funston, and excused myself.

  Thirty-one

  Up in our room I tried to swallow down my frustration. Of course everything the general said was right. And it wasn’t anything to do with me in the first place. What did I know about the circumstances? Señor Garcia might have been an evil person who had somehow threatened Bella or wronged Bella. But my innate sense of justice whispered to me that murder is always murder.

  As I paced I must have slipped my hand into the pocket of my skirt. My fingers closed around something smooth and sharp. I pulled it out and stared down at a small photograph. It was the snapshot of Douglas and Lizzy Hatcher I had rescued from Daniel’s suitcase. I had completely forgotten that I had it. Not that it would do us any good now. If Douglas Hatcher had really been in San Francisco, he would have escaped and moved on. Or been killed by the quake.

  I stared at the picture again, holding it up to the flame of the lamp. Douglas Hatcher’s proud and self-satisfied smile. And his wife looking down, embarrassed at having her picture taken. I stared again, looking harder. There was something about her that I recognized. But surely I had never met her. Then suddenly I knew what it was. Her hands were clasped into tight fists, all of the tension in her body revealing itself in those hands. And I knew where I had seen them before.

  I stared down at the photograph, my heart thumping. The table that held the water jug and basin was covered in a dark cloth. I went over to it and held the cloth next to that colorless face. At that moment the door opened and Daniel came in.

  “Molly, you were rather rude to our hosts,” he said. “You have to understand that General Funston ha
s to act within the limits of his mandate and…”

  “Daniel, stop.” I held up my hand. “I’ve just made an important discovery.”

  “Well?”

  I took a deep breath. “You were originally sent to locate Douglas Hatcher,” I said. “What if we weren’t looking for a man all this time but a woman?”

  He looked amused. “You’re telling me Douglas Hatcher was a woman?”

  “No. I’m suggesting that Douglas Hatcher is probably dead and the person we are looking for is his wife.” I held up the snapshot. “This was in your suitcase. I stuffed it into my pocket when I discovered the body and then forgot about it until now. Take a look at it. Douglas and Lizzy Hatcher.”

  He took the photograph, studied it, and then said, “Well?” again.

  “We both stayed at Lizzy Hatcher’s house.”

  He laughed now. “Are you trying to tell me that Bella Rodriguez is really Lizzy Hatcher?”

  “I’d like to take a bet on it,” I said.

  “But they are nothing alike.” He was still smiling.

  “I agree at first glance they bear no resemblance. But remember that Bella wears a black wig. She wears lots of face paint and lip coloring. And—the crucial clue that gave this away. I noticed that Bella always stood with her hands clenched into tight fists, like this. It’s a sign of hidden tension, isn’t it? Now look at the photograph. See her hands?”