Time of Fog and Fire (Molly Murphy Series #16)

Time of Fog and Fire (Molly Murphy Series #16)

by Rhys Bowen


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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781250052049
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Publication date: 03/01/2016
Series: Molly Murphy Series , #16
Pages: 288
Product dimensions: 6.10(w) x 9.40(h) x 1.00(d)

About the Author

RHYS BOWEN is the author of the Anthony and Agatha Award-winning Molly Murphy mysteries, the Edgar Award-nominated Evan Evans series, In Farleigh Field, and the Royal Spyness series. Born in England, she lives in San Rafael, California.

Read an Excerpt

Time of Fog and Fire

By Rhys Bowen

St. Martin's Press

Copyright © 2016 Rhys Bowen
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4668-5337-9


New York City, March 1906

It had been an unsettled spring, both in the weather and in my life. We had experienced an early warm spell that encouraged blossoms and narcissus to appear, birds to chirp loudly in mating calls, and New Yorkers to cast off layers of clothing and emerge from hibernation. Even the beggars and crossing sweepers managed a smile and a cheeky reply for the odd coin. Then no sooner than March had come in like a lamb it turned into a lion, blasting us with frigid winds that stripped blossom from trees and then with snow that sent us all scuttling indoors again.

My own life had been just as unpredictable and unsettled as the weather. We had started the year with Daniel still recovering from a bullet wound, shot as he tried to stop a new and keen recruit from taking on that dreadful new Italian gang called the Cosa Nostra. Daniel had survived but it had cost the young recruit his life. To make things worse the current police commissioner did not like Daniel. He and his cronies at Tammany Hall found Daniel too straight for them, not willing to toe the party line, and not open to the occasional bribe. So I suspect they'd been looking for a way to get rid of him, which wasn't easy as he was one of New York's most respected police captains. But while he was out recovering from a bullet in his shoulder dark forces had been at work, trying to besmirch his name when he was not around to defend himself. Some unknown source had spread the rumor that Daniel had ordered the young recruit to go and arrest the boss of the Cosa Nostra — a foolhardy move, as he surrounded himself with more bodyguards than the emperor of China. The truth had been quite the opposite. Daniel had found out what the young man planned to do and rushed after him. Unfortunately Daniel couldn't stop him in time and he had been shot and killed. Daniel had taken the second bullet himself, but survived. But now half the police force believed Daniel was to blame. My husband, as responsible and brave a man as you could ever meet, was desperately unhappy about this and unable to set things straight. Now, for the first time, he talked about resigning, about becoming a lawyer or going into politics as his mother had been suggesting. I hated to see him silent and brooding, picking at his meals, hardly noticing his young son. It had almost reached a stage when I was tempted to go down to that police headquarters myself and give them a piece of my mind.

Luckily it didn't come to that because John Wilkie came back into our lives. As the wife of a police captain, I suppose I should have learned not to be surprised by any unexpected twists of fate. But opening the front door and finding John Wilkie on the doorstep certainly caused my jaw to drop. For one thing it's not every day that the head of the U.S. Secret Service comes to visit, and for another, we had not parted on the best of terms the last time I had encountered him. When I found out he had used me as bait to catch my brother, who had come to America trying to raise money for the Irish Republican Brotherhood, I had not been able to contain my anger. The result had been my brother's death, for which I blamed John Wilkie.

Mr. Wilkie seemed to have forgotten this unpleasant episode as I opened my front door onto our quiet little backwater called Patchin Place to see him standing there on a blustery March evening. Snowflakes swirled around him and it took me a second or two to recognize him, muffled as he was in a big red scarf.

"Good evening, Mrs. Sullivan," he said, extending a gloved hand. "It's good to see you again."

"Mr. Wilkie," I replied, not returning his smile. "This is an unexpected pleasure."

"I hope I don't call at an inopportune moment," he said.

"Not at all. I take it this is not a social call on such a cold and miserable New York evening?"

He smiled then. His mouth was still hidden under the scarf but I saw his eyes smile. "I hoped for a quiet word with your husband. Is he home?"

"He is just finishing his dinner," I said. "Won't you come in and I'll go and tell him you're here."

I had just closed the front door behind him when Daniel came out of the kitchen, wiping the corners of his mouth with his napkin. It had been Irish stew for dinner, Daniel's favorite.

"Who was that at the front door, Molly?" he asked, then I saw his eyes register surprise. "Mr. Wilkie. This is an unexpected honor, sir. Let me help you off with your overcoat. And Molly, would you be good enough to take Mr. Wilkie's gloves, hat, and scarf?"

We divested Mr. Wilkie of his outer garments.

"I'm afraid we've no fire in the front parlor so it will have to be the back parlor, which also serves as my study these days, now that all the bedrooms are occupied," Daniel said as he led Mr. Wilkie down the hall.

John Wilkie smiled. "Of course. You need a nursery now, don't you? You've had a child since I saw you last. Boy or girl?"

"A boy," I said. "He's eighteen months old now. We called him Liam, after my dead brother."

I saw Daniel shoot me a warning look, but Mr. Wilkie seemed unaffected by my comment. Perhaps he had already forgotten how my brother died. Perhaps he didn't care.

"Congratulations," he said. "A fine son to start your family."

"Can we offer you something to drink, Mr. Wilkie?" Daniel said as he paused to turn up the gaslight in the back parlor. "I believe I've still got decent whiskey left, or I'm sure Molly would be happy to make you coffee or tea."

"I wouldn't say no to the whiskey."

"Then please take a seat near the fire and I'll see what we can do," Daniel said. He looked at me again. "Molly, could you bring us two glasses?"

That was indeed making it clear that I was not to be included in the conversation, especially since Mr. Wilkie said nothing as he pulled up a chair to the fire. Fair enough, I thought. The further I kept away from John Wilkie's kind of business, the better. I went back to the kitchen, where Liam was protesting about sitting in his high chair when there was clearly company in the house, and Bridie, the young girl I had brought across from Ireland all those years ago, was starting to clear the table. She was currently living with us so that she could go to school in the city, and was proving to be a grand little helper.

"Leave those for now, Bridie love," I said. "Could you take Liam out of his chair and get him ready for bed? Captain Sullivan has a visitor."

She put down the plates she was stacking. "Come on, Liam," she said. "We're going to get you ready for bed."

Liam let out a wail. "Mama," he cried.

"Bedtime, young man," I said firmly. "And if you're good Bridie will tell you the Three Bears story and then Dada will come up to tuck you in."

Bridie carried him upstairs, still protesting. But then she whispered something in his ear and he smiled at her. She was becoming quite the little mother, I thought. So grown-up. Ready to blossom into womanhood. I took two of our good glasses from the cupboard, wiped them clean, added a dish of cheese straws I'd baked the day before, and carried them through on a tray.

As I opened the door Daniel was saying, "I admit you're not wrong about what your spies tell you and I think I might be wise to look for ..."

Conversation was broken off as I came in. I placed the tray on Daniel's desk. "Is there anything else I can get you before I go to put Liam to bed?" I asked.

"No, thank you. It's very kind of you, Mrs. Sullivan," Mr. Wilkie said.

"I'll leave you then." I went out and closed the door behind me. In the past Mr. Wilkie had told me I was a fine detective and wanted to recruit me to work for him, but clearly this time I was to be excluded from whatever they were discussing. Unfortunately I could hear nothing through the door although I confess that I did try pressing my ear to the wood. My mother always told me that my curiosity would get me into trouble one day. So I was forced to go back to wifely duties and wash up the dishes.

I had cleaned up the kitchen and still they were closeted in that room. I went up to check on Liam only to find he had already fallen asleep. Bridie was sitting beside him, reading a book in the dim gaslight.

"You don't have to stay up here, my darling," I said. "Come down and keep me company in the kitchen. It's nice and warm in there."

"All right." She followed me down the stairs.

"What are you reading?"

"Little Women," she said. "My teacher lent it to me. She knows I like to read."

"You're turning into quite a student," I said. "Your mother would be so proud of you."

"And my father?" She looked up at me wistfully. "He was never much for books and reading. I think he must be dead too, don't you?"

Bridie's father and brother had taken a boat to Panama to work on the new canal and we'd not heard any news from them for a year or more. Having heard rumors of the horrendous conditions down in that hellhole, I thought it was quite possible that Seamus was dead, but I put an arm around Bridie's shoulder. "Not at all. I think he might be in a place far from any communication. There aren't any roads or post offices, you know. And as you say, he was never one for writing much. Perhaps it never crosses his mind that you're worried about him. Men are different that way. They don't think that we women worry."

She managed a brave smile then. "He won't know me when he comes back," she said. "I hope I can still stay with you or with Captain Sullivan's mother out in the country."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it ..." I said, and broke off as I heard a door opening and voices.

"You'll think about it then?" John Wilkie's voice. "What will I tell President Roosevelt?"

"I'll give you my answer by the end of the week," Daniel said. "It's a big step. I can't decide lightly."

"I'm sure I can smooth it over with the commissioner, especially if the request comes straight from the president," Mr. Wilkie said. He stood in the hall as Daniel helped him into his overcoat and then handed him his scarf, hat, and gloves.

"So good to see you again, Mrs. Sullivan." Mr. Wilkie turned to me. "Many thanks for the cheese straws. They were delicious."

I nodded politely as Daniel ushered him out the front door. The second the door was closed I demanded, "What was all that about? Mr. Wilkie wants you to work for him?"

"I'm afraid I can't talk about it," Daniel said. "But yes, that's the gist of it."

"You'd leave the police force?"

"If Wilkie can work it out properly, I'd be seconded to him, on assignment."

"And the request would come direct from President Roosevelt?"

"It would."

"So you'd be working for the president himself?"


"You are infuriating, Daniel Sullivan," I said in exasperation. "How can you not tell your wife what you'll be doing? Surely any decision in your life concerns me."

"I haven't decided yet," he said. "I need to weigh the pros and cons. This assignment is not exactly straightforward. It involves an element of subterfuge."

"And danger?"

"Possibly that too. But I live with danger every day in my current job, as you know only too well. I've already taken one bullet recently."

I put a hand on his arm. "Then do what your mother wants. Go into politics."

He laughed then. "Can you actually see me in Albany as a congressman? Or worse still, in Washington? If I've fallen foul of the police commissioner because I won't take bribes and turn a blind eye to corruption, how much worse do you think it would be in politics? I'd be beholden to those who elected me. I'd have to toe the party line and go against my conscience."

"Is this assignment from John Wilkie in New York?" I asked. "Can you tell me that much?"

"No, I don't think it would be in New York."

"We'd have to move?"

"No. It would only involve a brief trip away from home, I hope. A month or so at the most."

"And I would stay here?"

"You'd stay here," he said. "Much better all around. Bridie has her school. You have your friends to keep an eye on you. And I'd be free to do — what I have to."

I wrapped my arms around his neck. "I don't want you to do anything dangerous, Daniel."

"Don't be silly." He kissed me on the forehead. "I know how to take care of myself. I won't take any stupid risks. It will be fine."

"You sound as if you've already made up your mind."

"I think I have," he said. "I'd rather be out and doing something than hanging on here, watching my colleagues get handed the juicy investigations, waiting for my enemies to find the next nail to hammer into my coffin."

"Don't speak of coffins, please." I looked up into his face.


Two days later Daniel told me that he had decided to accept Mr. Wilkie's assignment. It would be a good challenge for him, he said. And a chance to sound out other opportunities. If he got on well with the president, if the president came to value him, who knew where that might lead.

I looked up from the potatoes I was peeling at that moment. "I'd love the folks in my village in Ireland to see me now," I said. "Molly Murphy, from the tumbledown cottage with the drunken father, now married to a man who has been personally summoned by the president of the United States for a special assignment."

Daniel grinned. "You make it sound more important than it really is," he said.

"You could at least give me a hint about what you'll be doing." I glared at him. "Will you be chasing criminals, catching spies? I don't exactly know what the Secret Service does."

"Neither do I," Daniel replied. "Neither do they, I think." He laughed. "The service was started to prevent the counterfeiting of money and to protect the president. But John Wilkie is an ambitious man and I'm sure he seeks to expand its role."

"So you'll be protecting the president?" I asked innocently.

"No. My task is humbler than that, I can assure you."

"Is it espionage then?" I asked. "Anarchists?"

"No anarchists, I promise you." He smiled. "And you're making much more of this than it really is, Molly. I don't think it will amount to much more than a simple case of fraud."

I felt a small spark of relief that at least he wouldn't be battling dangerous foreigners. "So why is Mr. Wilkie coming to you? Doesn't he have agents of his own to do his dirty work?"

"Of course. But I rather think he wants me because I'm not one of them. I'm an outsider. Unknown."

I stood there, a half-peeled potato in my hand, staring at him, willing him to speak. "Daniel, won't you at least tell me where you're going?"

"As to that I can't tell you because I don't rightly know. I'll be meeting with the president in Washington, D.C. After that ..."

"After that? I'm your wife. Don't I have a right to know where you'll be? What if Liam was taken deadly sick, God forbid? Or your mother?"

"John Wilkie will know where I am. In case of dire emergency, you can contact him."

"So what sort of clothes should I be packing for you?" I asked. "Will it be your winter long johns or your summer blazer?"

He laughed then and slipped his arms around my waist. "I'm not going to fall for your subtle attempts to get a confession out of me, Molly Sullivan. I'll pack my own bag when I'm ready to leave."

I sighed and went back to my potatoes.

The next few days passed too quickly. Daniel received telegrams and presumably sent replies. I made sure all his clothing was clean. He packed what seemed to be a ridiculously small bag. At least this cheered me up a little. He could not be expecting a long absence if he was taking so little clothing. When I'd gone to Paris I'd taken a trunk. So maybe I was worrying too much over nothing. It might be no more than a brief consultation with the president and then he'd be home.

Daniel himself seemed in the best of humor when he said good-bye to us on a brisk March morning. Wind whipped at his scarf as he paused halfway down Patchin Place and turned back to wave and blow Liam a kiss. Then he was gone. I blinked back stupid tears. I was being unnecessarily emotional. He wasn't being sent abroad to be a spy. He was doing a simple job for the president. No more dangerous than his normal work in New York.

The door across Patchin Place opened and my neighbor Gus Walcott came out.

"He's off then?" she said as Daniel's back disappeared around the corner onto busy Greenwich Avenue.


Excerpted from Time of Fog and Fire by Rhys Bowen. Copyright © 2016 Rhys Bowen. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Time of Fog and Fire 5 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 7 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
One in a great series
Virginiaw More than 1 year ago
I really enjoyed this Molly Murphy mystery. This was one of my favorite books in this series. This one glad all my favorite characters and it made me laugh and cry. I hope to see many more in this series.
SusanKC More than 1 year ago
Readers of Rhys Bowen's Molly Murphy series will not be disappointed. This newest mystery takes Molly and her young son across country to San Francisco in the early 1900's. Molly undertakes this cross-country journey when she receives a mysterious letter from her husband who is currently on a special assignment. Molly faces danger, corruption, murder and natural disasters with the intelligence and fortitude that Bowen's fans have come to expect from her. Even when it seems that she may lose what matters most to her, she pushes through hardship to survive a memorable event in American history. Can't wait to see what path awaits Molly!
Carstairs38 More than 1 year ago
Molly to the Rescue While I’ve always enjoyed reading the books in the Molly Murphy series, I’ve never been to any of the cities where the stories are set. So you can imagine the special thrill that I found out that Time of Fog and Fire was going to be set in San Francisco. Of course, the book opens in New York City in spring of 1906. It’s been a long, hard winter and winter doesn’t quite seem to want to let go. Meanwhile, Molly’s husband Daniel is still facing problems at work. So when Mr. Wilkie of the secret service shows up and recruits Daniel for a secret mission to parts unknown, he agrees to go. Molly is less than enthused about him being gone and the danger he might face, but he assures her that everything will be fine. Daniel’s been gone for a couple of weeks when Molly gets a letter from him. At her first reading, Molly finds it rather infuriating. But then she begins to think it was really a secret message. Does Daniel want Molly to join him in San Francisco? Determined that this is exactly what the letter was all about, she sets out. But what danger will she find when she gets there? This book has a different feel than many of the books in the series. While there is a mystery, it isn’t the strongest element in the book. Having said that, there is a strong mystery that truly begins to unfold once Molly reaches San Francisco. However, this book is more about the history. We get a bit about what cross country travel was like during that period, and it is fascinating. And always in the back of our minds as we read is why is Daniel sending for Molly? He’s never encouraged her detective work in the past, so something major must be happening here. Once Molly arrives, she once again finds herself caught up in some history that complicates her life. I loved how this whole thing unfolded and couldn’t turn the pages fast enough. Without slowing things down, we still get time with the series regulars before Molly leaves, and it’s always wonderful to meet up with them again. Since most of the book takes place away from home, we get a nice collection of memorable new characters, and it wouldn’t surprise me if one of them popped up again in the future. And the parts in San Francisco? I loved it! It was wonderful to visit a city I know now but as it was back in 1906. While obviously things were different back then, I was still able to picture the parts of the city that Molly visited, which was tons of fun. The Molly Murphy series has always been a fun way to experience bits of history while enjoying a mystery. Time of Fog and Fire keeps that tradition alive. Fans of the series will love their visit to the west coast with Molly.
Cynthia181 More than 1 year ago
I received this book for a honest review from Goodreads Giveaways. The story give you a look into the US at the turn of the century on both coast of the US. It wasn't easy being a honest Irish police officer in NYC during this time and is getting pressure and is approached by a Federal Agent to help him with a case in San Francisco but he can't tell his wife anything about it. She is a sleuth in her own right and has done things in the past to help people. Well he gets there not realizing the whole situation and sends a letter to his wife and she figures out that something is wrong. She packs up her son and they travel by train to SF to see him and get help from a man from NYC Opera who is helping a Italian singer to a performance. When she gets there she is told her husband is dead and buried and she knows that something is fishy. She does her so sleuthing and ends up in the middle of it and then SF gets hit with the big earthquake which almost wipes it out and they find each other again and then they have to find their son and get out of SF before they get killed by the bad mayor and paid off police chief. I love this story and could not put it down.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This was a book with many surprises. Daniel's death, Molly's loss of her husband and son. It was very intriguing and thrilling. Can't wait to know what Molly will have in the next book.