A is For Arson: A Langley & Porter Mystery (FIRST FIVE CHAPTERS)

2 A Debt Owed

Inside the fiery shop, the smoke was so thick that it stung my eyes and threatened to blind me. I kept my nose and mouth covered, breathing through the thin fabric of my cheap gown. I glanced from one corner of the room to the other and saw nothing but crumbling shelves, burnt up books, and flame. Above me, the rafters creaked, threatening to snap any moment and bring the second-floor apartment crumbling down on top of the shop and everyone in it. I pulled my sleeve away and choked. "Liza! Papa!"

But the smoke was too heavy and I sputtered a cough. Even if either of them had responded to my cry, I would not have heard it above my own coughing and the cracking of the beams above me. I wiped my eyes and replaced my sleeve over my nose. I moved forward. I had to keep moving forward.

I stumbled through the shop to the door at the back and shoved hard. It fell under my weight, the wood splintering and cracking, borne brittle by the rapidly increasing heat. It was not so hot in the hall beyond. So, the fire must have originated in the shop. I pushed through the smoke, squinting through the haze. I placed a hand on the doorknob to the workshop and hissed, pulling back at the scalding metal. Instead, I lowered my shoulder and pushed. The second door buckled as easily as the first and swung open on its hinges to reveal another room shrouded in smoke.

"Liza!" I cried, desperation clawing at my heart, smoke choking my lungs. I coughed again as I screamed. "Papa!"

"Charlotte?" the voice was quiet, timid, scared. It came from behind the printing press. I shoved books and racks out of my way and ran to it. My father and my sister huddled together behind the large chunk of machinery. They stared up at me, wide eyed and fearful. I helped my father to his feet as Liza rose hesitantly behind him.

"We have to go," I told them, expressing the urgency as best I could. "Now."

"How?" my father asked. "The back door has been blocked and the shop is on fire."

"Not all of it. There's a path straight through the middle. But it won't be open long. We have to go now!"

I pulled them along, back toward the hallway, toward our only exit. They did not seem to want to move. I had to shout at them more than I cared to but if I did not get them out, they would perish here amidst their books. I was forceful with them, shoving and shouting until we reached the shop. Then they came to a dead halt and I could see why. Portions of the ceiling had fallen onto the floor below and a large beam was stretched across most of the floor, shrouded in flame. I covered my mouth and nose with my sleeve and indicated for them to do the same. They did. There was a small opening on the opposite side of the beam, enough for us to slip through, but closing by the second. I pointed to it. Liza looked up at me, wide eyed, and shook her head. I gazed down at her intensely and she understood my meaning. She had to. We had no choice.

Liza went first, boldly sprinting across the floor and leaping through the crack over the beam. I watched her proudly and then turned to my father, nodding for him to go. But he wasn't looking at me. He was staring, wide eyed, at the space that Liza had just been. His hands were shaking. I took them and he finally turned to me. I stared deeply into those familiar eyes. There was not a trace of the anger with which he had looked at me before in them. I gave him a curt nod and a little shove and followed him forward.

We both made it through the crack and onto the other side. Though it required far more pushing and prodding from me than I had hoped. The opening closed the moment we were on the other side of it, a nearby shelf falling, flaming, over to close the gap. We exited the building to join Liza on the street. I withdrew my sleeve from my face and gulped in the stale night air. I would never have previously called London air fresh or exuberant but, at that moment, it was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted.