Time of Fog and Fire: A Molly Murphy Mystery (Molly Murphy Mysteries) by Rhys Bowen Read Free Book Online

thought with a jolt. It was strange to think of her growing up. She had always been the little girl I had to protect.
    Liam was thrilled to watch the big boys’ games, and equally delighted to watch the sparrows bathing themselves in the fountain. We stopped on the way home and I treated the children to liquorice bootlaces, Bridie’s favorite. Saturday ended with still no message from Daniel. On Sunday I took the children to church. I wasn’t exactly the most devoted Catholic but I felt that I needed to pray that Daniel would stay safe. It hardly seemed worth making our usual Sunday roast for just myself and two children so we settled for pork chops.
    Then on Monday morning I heard the clatter of the letter box and the thump as something landed on the doormat. I rushed to find it was a letter from Daniel at last. I tore it open and sat at the kitchen table reading it.
    My dear little wife, it began. I sit on a hilltop, surrounded by a sea of white fog and my thoughts race across the continent to you. How I wish you were here beside me so that I could share this moment with you. I know you would be astounded by such beauty and magnificence. I know the green hills and sparkling ocean would remind you of your Irish home. I only regret I could not have brought you with me, but of course we both knew you were too frail to undertake such a long trip, especially with a baby to look after.
    How I miss you, my darling girl. I miss your sweet soft voice, your gentle touch, your kind ministrations, and devotion to your loving husband. But rest assured that I am being well cared for here. Mrs. Rodriguez, at whose home, or rather mansion, I am staying attends to my every need. And in case you are feeling jealous at my mention of another woman, let me assure you that she is a widow of mature years and great fortune, an absolute pillar of the San Francisco community. She and her friends have taken it upon themselves to show me all that the city has to offer and I am never lost for entertainment or company. Have you heard that the Italian opera singer Caruso is expected in town within the month? Already the place is buzzing with excitement and my hostess is planning parties to welcome the great man. I anticipate that my work will keep me here until he arrives so look forward to seeing him for myself. I shall duly report on the momentous occasion for you—I know you will be sad that I will attend the opera for once without you and we shall not be able to enjoy our earnest discussions on the quality of the singing after the performance as we always do at home.
    And so, my darling girl, I send a kiss winging its way to you, wishing that so many miles were not between us. A kiss too to my darling son. How is your embroidery progressing? I expect the cushion cover to be finished by the time of my return.
    I remain forever your loving and devoted husband,
    Danny.
    *   *   *
    I stared at the letter with my mouth open and the blood hot on my cheeks. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” I muttered. How dare he! The absolute rudeness of him to write such a patronizing, mocking letter. I presumed he had those San Francisco society women sitting beside him as he wrote and thus wanted to create an impression of his wife and his marriage that was quite untrue. My embroidery! My soft, gentle voice and touch! And too frail to travel! He had created a picture of a simpering idiot, of the kind of woman I despised so much. And what was that nonsense about our opera discussions? Daniel had never attended the opera in his life, at least not with me.
    I slammed the letter onto the table and paced around. Liam watched my mutterings with big, worried eyes until I realized that I was scaring him. I went over and picked him up.
    “Your daddy is an idiot sometimes,” I said. I jogged him on my hip and spun him around, making him laugh and beg for more, and by the time I had put him down again I was in a better mood. I stared at that letter, lying on my kitchen