Silence followed this last statement. Albright looked at the two women with glazed eyes, almost as if he could not comprehend what had been said. The wind was throwing small objects against the windows, the doors rattled on their hinges. The smell of smoke was stronger than ever. Gabe lay quietly under the coffee table where he had retreated when John Albright entered the room. The hair standing up on his back was the only indication that he was not asleep.
The telephone rang once again breaking the uneasy silence. Albright’s head jerked up and his cold blue eyes focused on the two women. They listened for the message. “Hello? Uh, this is Max LaCroix. Miss McGill? er Allie? I just wanted to call to see if you’re there. I guess you’re not. Well, that’s good. Er, that is, I’m sorry to miss you, but I called to warn you about the fires. I’m not sure just where you live, but the Malibu hills are burning. Maybe you haven’t returned yet from the safe house, or maybe you have and now you have gone to a hotel or something. Well, anyway, I’m glad you’re not in danger. Er, good-bye. Let’s talk soon.” The deep voice stopped, cleared its throat and hung up.
Allie stood up and said, “Dr. Albright, I fear we may be in some danger here from the fire. The smell of smoke is getting stronger. Let’s just drive down to the highway and find a nice quiet place where we can talk this out.” She moved ever so slowly as she talked, inching her way around the coffee table, toward John Albright.
Maggie watched Allie’s progress without looking at her and wondered what she was planning. Slowly, slowly, an inch at a time, Allie moved around the bleached oak coffee table, her bare feet sliding through the furry nap of the thick white rug.
The professor stared at Allie’s face without speaking, as if he were trying to translate a foreign language. He seemed unaware of her movement toward him.
Maggie wondered if he was able to understand the danger the fire presented to all of them. Her experience with the seriously mentally ill was limited, but she realized that Dr. Albright might be so disoriented that a wild fire would not seem threatening to him. It seemed to her that she was watching him move from one reality to another in fairly rapid shifts. It also seemed that his moments of lucidity were becoming fewer and shorter as time went on.
Maggie spoke softly, as if she were speaking to a frightened animal, “Dr. Albright, it is going to be all right. There’s nothing for us to worry about. Let’s just relax. Everything will be okay. Soon we can go down the hill away from the danger of this fire. Then we can talk this out. I’m sure that we’ll find the photo in the morning. There really is nothing for us to fear . . ..” Quietly, slowly she talked, almost crooned, to the nervous man, never taking her eyes from Albright’s face. As Maggie spoke, Allie continued to inch her way around the coffee table. Albright shifted his stare to Maggie, as if mesmerized by the sound of her voice.
Outside, the wind was as wild as ever. Smoke filled the living room now and stung their eyes. Through the windows the sky had taken on a dark red glow. The air inside the guesthouse was warm and close.
Maggie found it increasingly difficult to look into Albright’s eyes. They were wild and vacant. Her heart beat faster when she noticed the red glow from the corner of her eye. But she did not dare to break eye contact with Albright. She was not sure what Allie planned, but clearly she was intent on moving around the coffee table. So Maggie continued her soft crooning talk, animal talk, talk to quiet a wild heart, talk for the caged tiger, talk for the trapped beast. John Albright stood immobile, staring at Maggie, his jaw slack, but his grasp on the gun never wavering.
Allie reached the breakfast bar and inched around it. Through the large glass doors behind Albright, flickering lights could be seen. Could the fire be so close? How long could they remain here and still escape? It seemed unbelievably true that the fire was coming this way.
Maggie’s peripheral vision showed Allie in the kitchen near the stove.
The flickering light became more pronounced. There was more light outside. Suddenly, with a great whoosh sound, the tall eucalyptus outside was in flames. The bright firelight filled the living room. They could feel the heat through the glass.
Albright’s head jerked up and he glanced over his shoulder at the blazing tree. Across the street, flames could be seen on the roof of the Asherman’s house. It was as if the fire had brought Albright back from a distant land. He shouted at Allie, “What are you doing in there? Get back out here this minute!” Albright pointed the gun directly at Allie. Maggie could see his finger begin to squeeze the trigger. Her heart stopped beating.
At that moment Gabe leapt out from under the coffee table, his small hard body a projectile aimed at Albright’s extended arm. The gun went off. The shot was wild and the bullet landed in the beam above Allie’s head. Caught off guard, Albright twirled to ward off his furry attacker. Maggie jumped onto the coffee table, intent on grabbing the gun. He fired again. A vase on the shelf behind Maggie shattered. She reached for the gun, but missed as Albright brought his arm down, aiming at Gabe who was dancing in circles around his feet, planting fierce nips in his target’s ankles. In the kitchen Allie grabbed the teakettle and flung the scalding water across the breakfast bar at Albright’s head. Albright was twirling in an attempt to keep up with his three adversaries. The nearly boiling water caught him in the face. Maggie would remember the scream for a long time.
Allie grabbed Maggie’s hand and pulled her from the coffee table. Holding hands they raced for the door. Allie scraped the keys from the sideboard as they shot out of the door into a violent, foreign world. Angry red light, choking smoke, small fiery missiles filled the air, it was snowing fire! The heat was intense. It was like running into a huge oven. They ran down the flagged walk. Gabe ran ahead but without barking. Flames filled the trees. Over their heads the house was blazing. Just as they reached the steps leading to the carport, they heard a gunshot behind them. Albright! He was coming out of the door, firing at them. He was terrible to see, wild, insanely wild. He fired the gun again. There was a soft thud sound in the wooden railing by Maggie’s right shoulder. A bullet! It could have hit either one of them! Up the steps. Up. Maggie’s legs felt leaden. Her breath was coming in gasps. Allie pulled at her arm. Maggie looked over her shoulder. The huge eucalyptus was a flaming tower. Albright ran down the walk toward them. Could they get away in time? Then, just as they reached the top of the steps, with a deafening crash, the eucalyptus fell across the house, across the flagged walk, across Allie’s geraniums, across John Albright. This time there was no scream. He made no sound at all. The vegetation along the walk burst into flames. Albright’s body was enveloped in flames. The fire raced toward the two women.
“Allie,” Maggie gasped.
“I know,” Allie said. “Come on. There’s nothing we can do. Let’s go! Come on! Come!” Allie pulled Maggie to the car. The carport was not yet burning. But the house was in flames. It seemed as if the fire was everywhere. Allie turned on the hose tap and sprayed the top of the convertible. Then she soaked two towels she kept there for washing her car. “Here, Mom. Put this over your nose and mouth.” So saying, she tied a wet towel across her face bandit style. As they got into the car Gabe jumped in also and situated himself on Maggie’s lap. Maggie shared a corner of her wet towel with him.
“Hold on! We’re getting out of here!” Allie shot the little car out of the carport, shifted gears and they started down the hill. Maggie thought she would never forget that ride. The little car raced through walls of flame on either side of the street for the first few blocks. The air was filled with fire snow; large fluffy bits of red ash filled the air. The heat was intense. The heat and the smoke made breathing painful. When they reached the lower levels of the neighborhood the fires were scattered, with a house here and there still not burning. On the lowest levels only an occasional house was aflame.
The Pacific Coast Highway was filled with fire trucks and emergency vehicles. Red and blue flashing lights filled the night. They were flagged down by a tired looking policeman. He l
eaned in the window and said sternly, “You shouldn’t be here. How’d you get in here? Where’d you come from?”
Allie’s voice was a faint croak, “We just came from my house up there.” She pointed up at the flaming hillside.
“You did? Here. Follow me.” He mounted a motorcycle parked beside the road and started down the highway.
“What do you suppose he intends to do to us?” Maggie whispered. She was surprised to find that her voice was almost gone. Only then did she realize that tears were streaming down her face. She glanced at the next seat and found Allie’s face also wet with tears.
“I don’t know and I don’t much care so long as he doesn’t send us back up there,” Allie croaked grimly.
The motorcycle stopped beside an ambulance-like trailer. Walking back to the convertible, the policeman said, “Let’s get you in here. You may need to go to the hospital for treatment.” He opened the car door and motioned them out. Maggie and Allie got out of the car and walked beside the policeman to the open back door of the medical trailer. Maggie continued to hold Gabe tightly to her chest.
The emergency medical team was solicitous and efficient. Soon both Maggie and Allie were receiving oxygen. With burning eyes Maggie looked around. Little Gabe was uncharacteristically quiet on Allie’s lap.
One of the doctors saw her look. Gently he picked up the little dog and examined him. Then without a word he fitted an oxygen mask over the dog’s nose. He improvised with plastic wrap and tape so that it fit snugly. Gabe sat quietly, permitting these ministrations as if he understood what was happening. Allie motioned her thanks.
The medical team chatted softly as they worked, lifting the spirits of their patients. The other patients were fire fighters who were receiving treatment similar to that given to Allie and Maggie.
Maggie could feel her strength returning with the oxygen therapy. She could see color returning to Allie’s pale face. Even Gabe looked perkier. Eventually they were released with an admonition to consult their private physician tomorrow and to seek emergency treatment if their coughs continued more than a day or if they experienced any breathing difficulties.
The sun was rising as they headed south along a bizarrely different PCH. The only traffic was emergency vehicles. Neither of them looked up at the hillside or behind them as Allie drove sedately through the barricades into a more normal seeming world.
Allie turned onto Sunset Boulevard and then onto a side street and stopped. She turned to her mother with tears in her eyes. “Mom, I don’t know where to go. We don’t have a home anymore.” A sob caught in her throat. The tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks.
Maggie’s eyes filled with tears as she looked into her daughter’s face. “I know. We’re been through a lot. That place is gone. And your beautiful things are gone, too. But honey, we are our home. We can find another place. We are alive and we have each other. It will be okay. Do you want me to drive?”
“Yeah, would you? Please.”
Solemnly they traded seats. Gabe watched with big eyes. Then he climbed into Allie’s lap and licked her face in an effort to console her. Allie looked at Maggie and grinned; then she burst into tears again.
Maggie reached out and put her arms around Allie. “Go ahead, sweetie, cry it out. Tears streamed down Maggie’s face as she held her sobbing daughter. She was crying in sympathy for Allie’s feelings; she was crying for her own loss and for the loss of the beautiful place; she was crying in release of the stress, fatigue and pain of the last few days.
Finally, Maggie’s eyes dried. She straightened and retrieved her arm. Then she sat still for a moment, gathering her wits, trying to think about the next move. A bed and a hot shower would be nice. Only then did she realize that both of them were still in their nightclothes. Thank goodness, she thought, that she had covered her thin gown with a robe when John Albright had surprised them. Allie’s white cotton pajamas were stained with soot but, at least, they were not transparent. Where could they present themselves with no clothes, no money, no credit cards, in fact, with nothing at all? Then she remembered Harry Cavanaugh. Maggie started the car and turned back down to the PCH.
When she explained her plight to the service station attendant she was given the use of the telephone and offered coffee and donuts. She punched in Harry’s number. A sleepy, “Yes?”
“Harry, this is . . .”
“Hello, Maggie,” Harry interrupted. “Where are you? Are you all right? I tried to call you.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Maggie answered. “Well, the truth is, Harry, we’re in a sort of a fix.” Maggie gave Harry the significant high points of their most recent adventure. “Harry, the thing is, we are at this gas station on the PCH and we don’t have any money or purses or anything. And we’re still in our nightclothes. I’m not sure what to do next. Then I remembered your number . . ..” Her voice trailed off.
“Oh, Maggie. Are the two of you okay? I mean, physically. Were you hurt? Did you have smoke inhalation?”
Maggie told him the details of their medical treatment.
“Well, I think you need a quiet bed and a hot shower to begin with,” Harry said.
At the mention of the shower Maggie nodded her head. Allie watching from the car wondered who her mother was talking to for so long.
“That sounds like heaven right now,” Maggie said.
“Where exactly are you?” Harry asked. When she had told him, Harry directed her to an early morning coffee shop where he promised to meet her.
Harry was in the parking lot as promised driving a large silver sedan. He had brought a companion who Maggie recognized from the last time Harry had rescued them. “Pete can follow us in your car if you’d like to ride with me,” Harry said. Gratefully Maggie and Allie crawled into the wide back seat of the silver car. Maggie surrendered the convertible’s keys to a smiling Pete. Gabe snuggled on the seat between the two women.
Chapter Fifteen
Walking through the streets of San Francisco at dusk. The air was cool and moist. A delicious aroma drifted out of a door. Mmmm! Garlic. Caesar salad? Pasta? Crusty bread? Maggie realized she was hungry, not only hungry, ravenous. She twirled around to enter the door . . ..
Maggie woke as her body twisted off the bed. She crawled back on the bed and lay still for a moment trying to figure out where she was. Then the memories came back in a flood. The fire. John Albright. Harry. Maggie smiled when she thought about Harry. He had brought them to the safe house. Maggie had only vague memories of their arrival here, of climbing the stairs to their old rooms, of falling into bed. Across the room she saw Allie still sleeping peacefully. Gabe, curled up at the foot of her bed, was snoring softly.
A pang in her stomach brought the dream back. Hungry! Maggie thought she never had felt so hungry. The aromas drifting up from the kitchen were intoxicating. Whatever were they cooking? What time is it. She looked at the bedside clock. Eight. Eight o’clock! That must be dinner I am smelling she thought? Maggie’s feet hit the floor and she headed for the bathroom. The mirror showed a disheveled person with black smudges on her face, hair standing on end. Ugh! Her nightgown had a rip on the shoulder.
She found new toothbrushes and toilet articles in a basket on the bathroom counter. While she was brushing her teeth Allie appeared at the door. “Hi, Mom. What’s up?”
“I am. I’m starving. I plan to make myself just presentable and get downstairs as quickly as possible.”
Allie wrinkled her nose. “Ummm. Smells good. What time is it?”
In response Maggie pointed to the clock.
“I can’t believe it. Wow.”
They bathed and dressed as quickly as possible. Once again they found clothing laid out on the chairs. In the dining room they found Harry and Fritz lingering over dessert and coffee. As they entered the two men stood up and Harry walked around the table to greet them. “Hello, how’re you two feeling this evening? Did you rest well? Are you hungry?”
“Yes!” Maggie and Allie answered in unison.
“We are famished,” Allie said.
As she spoke, Mildred entered with a tray of food. Silence ensued as the two hungry women dealt with the food. Maggie smiled her no thanks when Mildred offered seconds. Just as Maggie was leaning back in her chair John Landis entered the dining room. He greeted them warmly, then asked if they felt up to talking about their latest adventure.
“Well, yes, I think it might be a good idea. The sooner we talk about it, the sooner we can begin to let go of it. It was pretty intense, you know,” Maggie answered.
Harry raised his eyebrows in a questioning way to John Landis.
“Maggie, Allie, I wonder if you’d object to having the Fouchets sit in on this interview? They’re still here, you know,” Landis said. “They might help us fill in the pieces of this puzzle.”
“Andre? Brigitte? Where? We’d love to see them. Yes, please. Do invite them,” Allie answered as Maggie nodded her head in agreement.
“Harry? What about Hadi? Is he here still?” Maggie asked.
Harry shook his head. “We don’t know where he is. He left soon after you two did and we haven’t heard from him since.”
They sipped tea while Mildred went upstairs and returned with Andre and Brigitte. For Maggie, seeing the honeymooners felt like being reunited with family. The greetings were warm, with exclamations and questions in a sort of French/English mélange that had developed during their trip across the mountains. Andre and Brigitte both looked rested and relaxed. Maggie remembered vividly their first meeting on the airplane.
Harry said, “We invited a guy from Foreign Learning Opportunities to be here. He’s flying down from San Francisco. I expected him to be here by now. I want him to hear your story, but let’s not wait any longer. Let’s hear what happened to you two last night.”
Maggie's Image (Maggie McGill Mysteries Book 1) Page 17