“Good old British sangfroid. We don’t lose our nerve like the continentals do.” She gave me a triumphant smile as we joined the crush of girls.
Then behind our backs came a great cracking sound. Flames shot up, making us all jump back and brush off the sparks that landed on us. We turned around to see the roof fall in. There were a few moments of panic when it looked as if the fire might spread to our building, but before that could happen a door onto our rooftop opened and a fireman appeared.
“They’re all up here, Barney,” he shouted. “They’re safe.”
Weeping and hugging we made our way down the stairs, into the arms of relatives, friends, and well-wishers. Families snapped up daughters and mothers and whisked them away, weeping with joy. I looked around for Sarah. She was hurrying toward the outstretched arms of a frail-looking woman and a girl I recognized—the sister who worked for Lowenstein’s. Little Fanny who looked as if she wouldn’t hurt a fly. As I started to push my way through the crowd to reach them then I saw them hugging and kissing and I lost my nerve.
One by one girls were whisked away from me. I stared out through a blur of tears feeling suddenly alone and helpless. Then through the crowd I thought I saw Daniel’s face and started toward him.
Suddenly I heard someone shouting my name.
“Molly!” I spun around to see Jacob running toward me. “Molly, I’ve been looking everywhere. Thank God.”
I had thought the tears in my eyes were just from the smoke. Now I knew they weren’t. I fell into his arms, blubbing. His arms were warm and strong around me and I lay my head against his shoulder, feeling safe.
“This is enough,” he said, stroking my hair. “I can’t take any more of this. I want you to marry me right away, so that I can look after you.”
At any other moment I would have told him that I could look after myself very nicely thank you, but I had to admit it sounded most appealing.
“Your mother won’t approve,” was all I could think of saying.
“She’ll have to learn to accept it, won’t she? And who could not learn to love you, Molly?”
I looked up into his face. He was smiling at me with infinite tenderness. To be cherished and protected—what more could any woman want? I felt a warm glow spreading all through me.
“Now we had better get me home before your mother learns that I was on the street in my underwear,” I said.
Jacob eyed me. “At least I know that you have good legs before I sign the wedding document,” he said, still smiling. “Most Jewish men are not so fortunate.”
“How did you know I’d be here?” I asked, as my brain started to clear.
“I’ve been keeping an eye on you. I had a feeling you’d be doing something else stupid.”
“I didn’t intend this to be dangerous,” I said. “They locked us in. A stove was knocked over and the place was a complete firetrap. It was an accident that could have happened anywhere.”
“It wasn’t deliberate then?”
“No, of course not.”
“But I thought Mostel was responsible for Katherine’s disappearance?”
Katherine—I had forgotten all about her. I looked around and saw her sitting on a doorstep, all alone, looking as shocked and bewildered as I had been. I took Jacob’s hand.
“Over here,” I said. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
She rose to her feet as we approached her.
“Jacob,” I said. “This is Katherine.”
Twenty-six
Katherine?” Jacob looked from her face to mine. “You found her? You mean she didn’t drown then?”
“Obviously not.”
“Why did you think I had drowned?” Katherine asked.
Spray from fire hoses and flying particles from the fire coated us in a sooty rain.
“The police told us that a woman resembling your picture had been pulled from the East River,” I said.
“My picture? How did you get my picture?” She looked completely bewildered.
“Your father sent it to me,” I said. “I am an investigator. He hired me to track you down.”
The bewilderment was replaced by a look of utter horror. “Then you weren’t—I mean, we thought the woman who—”
“The young woman who discovered you?” I said, suddenly putting the pieces together. “Her name was Nell Blankenship. She was trying to find out what happened to you after you disappeared from Mostel’s. We suspected foul play, you see.” As I spoke it was my turn to go cold all over. I had just taken in the implication of her words. “You thought she was the detective,” I said.
She nodded. “We got word from Michael’s cousin who also worked for my father that a woman detective had been dispatched to find us. Naturally we thought . . .”
“So you killed her?” I demanded angrily.
“Not me. Of course not.”
“The Eastmans then.”
She shook her head, a look of bleak despair on her face. “Not the Eastmans. The man I married, Michael Kelly.”