Vera Carol Edgarian (great novels of all time txt) 📖

house.” He winced. “So many of them we couldn’t save, not without water. North Beach, yes, but not—” His voice lost steam.

“You mean, our house, it burned as well? With Morie—” I shut my eyes.

“You must stay here, with us,” he insisted. “You and Pie. Julia won’t hear of any qualms.”

“Thank you, but we’re fixed, at least for now, up the hill.”

A vein above the mayor’s right eye twitched. He pressed his finger against his temple to quell it.

“Fixed? Whereabouts?”

“On Gough Street.” I thought that was enough of a clue to get him there. “Across from Lafayette Square.”

“Lafayette, you say?” He’d been awake all night, and his bloodshot eyes saw only the grids of his devastated city—what had collapsed, what had burned, what was about to burn.

“Which house?” The moment he asked, he saw it. The mayor lowered his voice. “You’re staying with Rose? No kidding. That’s… bold.”

“Only we don’t know where she is. I was hoping you could help me—”

“Wait a moment,” he said. “You and your sister are alone in Rose’s house?” The mayor’s face was a jumble of competing subversions. “That won’t do. You can’t—”

“Could you… I mean, would you help me find her?”

His eyes darted from the door to the stairs and back. “Are you saying, during the quake she may have been at The Rose?”

“I think it’s possible. Otherwise, where—”

“Good God, let’s hope not.” He pointed his nose at the ceiling, seeing those crushed blocks in his mind. “Pacific Avenue, that whole area, took it hard. The quake and the fire both.” He looked at the soldiers guarding his door, guarding him. “Look, I’ll find out what I can. You must know, it’s chaos. Stay put, for now. I promise you, I’ll inquire—”

“The fire,” I said. “Do you think it’ll reach Pacific Heights?”

He shook his head. “We don’t know. We’re doing everything we can, but for now, no house in the city is safe. It isn’t one fire, it’s fifty blazes—the worst civic disaster on record. In our city. Our city!” His eye twitched madly. He cocked his head to hear what was happening in the other room. “Ah, listen to that, they’re starting to argue. I better go back in.” Schmitz moved in the direction of the parlor.

Reluctantly, I started up the stairs.

“Vera?” he called. “Try the hospitals. We’ve set up a triage center by the Ferry Building and another in the Presidio. Look for the big red crosses. Eda Funston, the general’s wife, she’s in charge. Formidable woman. Ask for her.”

“May I tell her you sent me?”

He looked amused at the thought of his having any clout at all. “Tell her the mayor said if she were running the city, we’d be in much better shape.”

Pie was lying on Eugenie’s bed, her head in her friend’s lap. Above the bed, a wooden cross with a crucified Jesus looked down on them.

“Pie, please,” Eugenie begged as I paced at the foot of the bed, thinking how much I preferred the company of men, “please tell Vera to stomp elsewhere. She’s crushing Papa’s violins.”

I looked down at my boots. I was standing on top of Eugenie’s floral rug. “His violins?”

“Yes, there. Underneath—” Eugenie flapped her hand in the general direction of the floor beyond the bed, where she couldn’t see. “Oh, forget what I said. Papa told me never to mention—” Eugenie sat up abruptly and violently shook her head. “It’s supposed to be a secret. Please, Vera, come up here with us.”

“A secret… compartment. Right here, under the floor?” I kicked the rug aside and dropped to my knees.

“Stop that, Vera! Pie? Help me,” begged Eugenie. “Papa will be furious—”

“V?” Pie called, her voice thick with tears. “Eugenie said to leave it.”

“Why, it’s just us,” I assured them as I ran my hand across the floor. “We won’t tell.”

There, cut into the floorboards and well concealed, was a rectangle about a foot and a half wide and several feet long.

Eugenie sighed. “Oh, what does it matter. We don’t really live here anymore. And if I can’t trust you two, well—” She sighed. “Everyone is always after Papa, it’s so unfair. And with so many robbers about town, he says you can’t be too careful. He says when you have something of value, you must protect it. So, Papa had his men build a safe under the floor. For storing his most special violins. I said to him, ‘Why my floor, Papa, not yours?’ and he said, ‘Why, silly, you’re so light, the violins won’t have to worry about being trampled.’ He told me not to fuss or think about them at all, and that’s exactly what I’ve done. Vera? Vera, did you hear me?” Eugenie let out a little whimper to match Pie’s. “Anyway, you can see for yourself, it’s locked. Papa said it must always stay locked.”

But it wasn’t locked. There was a thin metal bar hidden in the seam of the floor, and when I pulled on it, the wooden top came up in one solid piece. A metal box had been custom-made to fit the space underneath, between the joists on two sides and the ceiling below. Sure enough, there was a keyhole for a lock, but whoever used it last had forgotten to turn the key. The box within was padded on all sides with velvet. But instead of violins, there were canvas bags stacked side to side and several deep.

“Vera?”

The throat of each bag had been tied with twine. I worked one open just enough to see that it was filled with cash.

At last the note Rose had me pass to Schmitz at Caruso made sense. After reading it, he’d tossed it into a bin. I felt inclined to retrieve it.

Gene, be assured I’ve taken care of my end of things. Now make sure to stow your fiddles. Rose.

“You’re right,” I said, “it’s locked.”

And thinking of all that money—wondering how much was there and if it had been counted, and surmising that while the mayor grabbed big, he