When Love Calls (15 page)

Hannah watched him draw a crude fire at the base of the wall. “So you determine the point of origin by the heaviest char, correct?”

Mr. Stock jerked his head up. “Well, as a matter of fact, I do, young lady—among other things. I look for the place where the most damage was done. Was your father a fireman?”

“No, sir. It seemed like a logical thing to look for. But how can you tell if a fire has been deliberately set?”

“Hold your horses.” The fire marshal marked a
V
on the paper wall. “Fire normally follows a
V
pattern on the wall unless some kind of flammable liquid was used. If there was, you might find other patterns depending on what was used to start the fire.”

“Can you give us an example of what you would be looking for?” Lincoln asked.

“Seeing patterns on wood floors or linoleum, finding rags, or
smelling kerosene are all clues to arson.” He drew three different boxes on a second sheet of paper and a bottle on its side in one box. “About a month and a half ago, before these two recent fires, there was a fire set in a Western Union repair cart. We’ll probably never find who did that one, but we think it was set with a bottle of whiskey with a rag stuffed in it, because we found glass shards.” He looked at Hannah. “He would have had to light the rag on fire, you understand?”

She clenched her teacup. “Yes, I do.”

“Why haven’t we heard about that one?” Lincoln asked.

“A supply cart isn’t as newsworthy as a building.” Mr. Stock scratched his temple with the end of the pencil. “It could have been the first fire this arsonist started, or it could have been someone else altogether—even some kids pulling a prank. Like I said, we’ll probably never know.”

“How were the two recent fires started?”

Mr. Stock drew a stick of dynamite in the middle box. “The April 18 fire, the one at the Western Union supply shed, was caused by an explosion. Most likely dynamite.”

Hannah gasped. “Are you certain? Perhaps it was a natural gas explosion.”

He shook his head. “It’s easy to tell the difference between a regular fire and when something explodes, because the burn damage is deep and jagged. Things are broken and burned to different degrees. It wasn’t gas because of the location of the crater.” He tapped the box. “We found evidence that shows whoever did this one understood how wires and switches work.”

Which must have led to Walt becoming a suspect. Hannah glanced at Lincoln and shivered. This didn’t bode well for her friend.

“In the April 20 fire, the one at the Western Union manager’s carriage house, the arsonist used a strange tactic.” Mr. Stock drew a thick line across the third box, with several balloon-shaped objects hanging from it. “He used several rubber hot water bottles filled with oil and tacked them to the rafters. When the bladders heated, each one exploded, spurring the fire on.”

Lincoln’s brow scrunched. “If they all exploded, then how do you know this is what happened?”

Mr. Stock looked at him as if Hannah’s stupidity was catching. “Because we found them still hanging. We were able to put the fire out before they all caught fire.”

Lincoln straightened his shoulders. “Sir, have you discovered many arsonists who have set more than one fire?”

“A few.”

“Do they usually change the way they start the fires?” He pointed to the three boxes. “From a bottle of whiskey to dynamite to oil-filled water bottles—it seems like a stretch to think it’s the same person.”

The fire marshal scowled. “I gave the detective my findings. They’re all connected to the Western Union, so it seems fitting whoever set the fires has a beef with them.” He stood up. “I’m sure the Western Union people are resting easier, now that we’ve got the right man in jail.”

“Why do you say that?” Lincoln helped Hannah to her feet.

“Stands to reason. There hasn’t been another fire since he’s been there.”

Hannah sucked in a breath. She hadn’t thought about that, but it was true. An arrow of fear shot through her. If Walt wasn’t the arsonist, then whoever did it was still out there. What if his next fire wasn’t a shed or an empty building?

 17 

Controlling the power of the engine gave Lincoln a heady feeling. No wonder Mr. Vanderbilt enjoyed racing automobiles. Racing these beauties would be an easy thing to love.

He glanced at Hannah. She’d complained about the pins coming out of her hair and flying to who knows where. Secretly, Lincoln was glad the pins were gone. Her hair had blown loose despite the hat and scarf. He liked seeing her silky hair down—very much.

He gripped the steering wheel to keep from reaching out and touching her tresses. “Hannah, you’re awfully quiet. What’s wrong?”

“I was thinking.”

“About?”

“We know Walt didn’t do this, but who did? There’s a fire starter out there. What if someone is hurt or killed in another fire because they’ve stopped looking for the real arsonist?”

Lincoln pushed up the throttle on the steering column, and the Reo responded with more speed. His gut clenched at Hannah’s words. He’d been thinking the same things and pondering the fire marshal’s comment about there not being any fires set since Walt’s arrest. That would not bode well for them in next Monday’s hearing. He didn’t want to upset Hannah, but the way things looked, he feared Walt would be bound over for trial.

“Let’s put the case out of our minds for now.” Lincoln turned
onto Locust Street. “I believe you and I have a graduation to celebrate, and I know just where to take you.”

“Remember, you said ice cream. I’m not dressed for anything else.”

He glanced at her. She looked beautiful in her sailor-collared white shirtwaist and black walking skirt. He had no trouble imagining taking her anywhere. Still, he understood her concern. “What you’re wearing will be fine where we’re going. I promise.”

Even at driving less than the Reo’s full speed, they neared their destination on Walnut Street in half the time it would take in a carriage. Lincoln pulled the automobile to the side of the street in front of Rogg’s Drug. After tugging off his goggles and hat, he smoothed his hair with his hand and turned to Hannah. “This okay?”

“Absolutely, but for the record, I generally don’t indulge before dinner.”

He chuckled. “Hannah, I’m surprised at you. You seem like a girl who’d be happy to eat dessert first.”

“W-well, I am.” Her cheeks took on a rosy glow. “You simply caught me off guard. That’s all.”

“Don’t worry. They have food too, and I plan on us having both.” He exited the Reo and came around to assist her. “Haven’t you been here before?”

She shook her head and scanned the front of the drugstore. “If we were lucky enough to get ice cream treats, it was at a little drugstore nearer our home. But I’d heard some of my Drake classmates talk about Rogg’s.”

A bell jangled on the drugstore’s door as they entered. Hannah stepped inside the doorway and gasped. He didn’t blame her. Lights illuminated the long marble-topped fountain and flickered off the polished nickel spigots. Soda glasses and leaded shades sparkled in the mirror behind the elaborate fountain.

Slipping his hand beneath Hannah’s elbow, Lincoln led her toward the display. “May I introduce you to the longest soda counter in the world.”

“Is it really?”

“According to the owner, Mr. Namur, it is, but I doubt if he’s taken a yardstick around the world to check.” Since Rogg’s offered no other type of seating, he located two empty wood-seated metal stools at the crowded counter and pulled one out for her. He sat down beside her and pointed to a blackboard with the menu choices for the day on it. “Looks like it’s a choice between potato soup or a sausage on a bun. Do either of those sound good to you? You can have both if you’d like.”

“And ice cream?” She giggled. “I don’t think even your new car would be able to carry me home if I ate all that.” She tapped her finger against her chin. “I think I’d like the soup.”

When the young man approached to take their order, Lincoln told him they would each start with a bowl of soup. The fountain clerk returned a few minutes later and set their orders in front of them, declaring he’d be back to take the rest of their order when they were finished.

Lincoln licked his lips. Cubes of ham dotted the thick white surface, and the fresh rolls on the plates begged to be eaten. Steam rose off the bowls. He leaned over her bowl and drew in a long breath. “If it tastes half as good as it smells, we’re in luck.”

He glanced at Hannah, who’d not yet taken up her spoon. Would she be comfortable if he offered to say grace in a crowded place like this?

As if she’d read his mind, she turned to him.

It was the only signal he needed. Not only did he want to thank God for the food, but he wanted to put in a word of appreciation for finally having a moment alone to enjoy the company of Miss Hannah Gregory.

Hannah scooped creamy vanilla ice cream from her tall glass and slipped it between her lips. How long had it been since she’d had an ice cream treat?

Lincoln took a spoonful of his root beer float. “I never would have guessed you to be a black cow girl.”

“I’ve never had one, but I wanted to try something new, and it’s absolutely delicious.” She tapped the side of her glass with her spoon. “See the chocolate syrup here? It goes perfectly with the root beer and ice cream. Do you want a bite?”

“No thank you. I prefer my root beer float unadulterated, even by chocolate syrup.” He held up his glass. “To Hannah, switchboard operator graduate and first in her class.”

“And to your new automobile.” She clinked her glass with his and sealed the toast with a sip of spicy root beer.

“So, are you excited about tomorrow?”

“Yes, and nervous too.” She took a deep breath. “There’s a lot to remember, and I want to do a good job. Mrs. Reuff says central exchange operators have even more rules than the student operators, and rule keeping isn’t my forte.”

Mirth crinkled his eyes and curled his mouth. “You’ll do fine. And when your day is done tomorrow, I’ll be able to tell you if I discovered anything new on Walt’s case.”

The idea of talking to Lincoln after her first day tomorrow warmed her. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

She stirred her black cow, considering if she really wanted to know Lincoln’s answer to the question plaguing her. But she needed to know what he thought. How else would she prepare herself?

“Lincoln, is Walt going to go to trial?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he seemed to study her for a moment. “If we don’t find out something new, I’m afraid so.”

Tears pricked her eyes, and she blinked them away. He’d confirmed something she had already guessed, but the news still made her heart ache.

“Thank you for being honest with me.”

“I’ll always be honest with you.” Lincoln scooped a bite of ice cream into his mouth. “My turn. I get to ask you something.”

She tilted her head to the side. My, but his pirate grin was infectious. “All right, I guess.”

“Remember, you have to be as honest with me as I was with you, understand?” She nodded, and he continued. “Do you still want to become an attorney?”

She sucked in a quick breath. Did she? She hadn’t allowed herself to think about it much lately. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Whenever the desire awakened in her, she quickly put it back to bed.

Lifting her glass to her lips, she downed what was left of her soda. “I can’t pursue that dream right now.”

He laid his hand on her arm. “That isn’t what I asked.”

She gave him a wry laugh. “If God had put me in charge of the world, things would be different, but he didn’t. My parents would be alive, my sisters would still be living on the farm, I’d be in college, and I never would have met you. But in God’s great wisdom, he decided against letting me call all of the shots. Imagine, he thought that he could do a better job running things than I.”

“Yes, imagine that.” Lincoln’s eyes sparkled. “And for the record, I’m sorry about the loss of your parents and your home, but I’m glad I was given the opportunity to meet you.” He slurped the last of his root beer from his glass.

Hannah smiled.

After placing some coins on the counter to cover their dinner and ice cream, Lincoln held the door for Hannah to exit.

“There’s no reason you can’t go back someday,” he said.

“Here? To Rogg’s?”

“No, to college, to finish law school.”

She fired him a glare, and he held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay. I get it. The subject is off-limits. I only wanted you to know I think you have what it takes to be an excellent attorney.”

A slight smile softened her features. “It’s getting late.”

Before taking Hannah home, Lincoln drove them to a lesser-traveled road outside the city. What a marvel the Reo’s gas lanterns were as they lit the road ahead of them.

Lincoln adjusted his goggles. “Are you ready to go fast?”

“Now?” Hannah peered into the dusky shadows in front of them. “Wouldn’t it be safer in daylight?”

“And here I had you pegged for a risk taker,” he teased.

“I am.” She tipped her chin upward, her voice almost sounding courageous. She couldn’t let him think she was afraid. “All right. Let’s see how fast this automobile can go.”

Lincoln pressed his foot to a pedal on the floor and placed his hand on the steering column lever. “This is the throttle, and it controls the speed.” He pushed the throttle upward, and the Reo responded. Soon the wind whipped Hannah’s hair in all directions, and exhilaration surged through her.

Pressing her hand to her hat, Hannah laughed aloud as her stomach flip-flopped when they sailed over a rise in the road.

Lincoln whooped and glanced at her.

“Look out!” Hannah spotted a cow in the road up ahead.

Lincoln cut the throttle and swerved. The Reo reached for the ditch. Lincoln fought against the loose dirt to keep the automobile on the road—and won.

He reached his gloved hand across the seat and touched her arm. “Are you okay?”

“Absolutely.” Her heart hammered, but she felt more alive than she had in a long time. “Can we do that again?”

She could hear a smile in his voice. “Maybe not tonight.”

Once they arrived back in the city, Hannah discovered it was much easier to see as they drove. Round-globed electric lights sparkled against the darkened sky and illuminated the streets. The automobile rumbled over the Locust Street Bridge. When he didn’t turn toward her home, she sat up straighter. “Lincoln, do you remember my address?”