Chapter 24
Hollywood, California
The next morning, all I could think about was getting to the library to look at The Annals of San Francisco.
I had returned the book several weeks ago when it was due and hadn’t thought I would need it again.
After getting dressed, I grabbed my purse and walked down the back stairs into the kitchen.
Mama stood at the counter, taking muffins out of a tin and putting them on a cooling rack. She stopped when she saw me, her eyes glowing. “How was the wedding?”
The wedding. I’d almost forgotten I was married.
Almost.
Sam and I had collapsed into bed the night before, exhausted, and we’d quickly fallen asleep.
“It was nice.”
“Nice? My daughter gets married, and all she tells me is that it was nice?”
“What can I say?” I paused. “It was in a little canvas church on Montgomery Street. The pastor’s wife served a small luncheon afterward, and then we went back to the hotel to work for the rest of the day.” I swallowed the pain that surfaced thinking about the hotel.
Mama left the muffins and came to me. “What’s wrong, Ally?”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell her, but I couldn’t lie or avoid the question. And when she found out I was going to the library, I would have to tell her why. “Someone set fire to the hotel soon after we went to bed. Everything is lost.”
Mama’s eyes widened. “Was anyone hurt?”
“Not by the fire, and I thank God for that. But Sam hit his head, and if it wasn’t for Paddy’s help, he would have died in the fire, and I would have probably succumbed to the smoke trying to get him out.”
She frowned. “Isn’t that how you’re both supposed to die?”
“Yes, but it’s too early, unless history changed or the authors of the history book got the date wrong.”
The sound of the grandfather clock struck nine as she stared at me. “You think someone changed history?”
“I don’t know. I’m going to the library to see if the information in the book is different.” I shook my head, so confused. “If history changed—” I let out the breath I felt like I’d been holding all morning. “I might be able to stay in San Francisco after all.”
“Ally.” Mama put her hands on my arms as if to hold me there with her. “If history did change somehow, do you really want to stay there?”
“I married Sam, Mama. Of course I want to stay there. I love him.”
“Enough to stay?”
Nothing had ever felt so hard—or so easy—as what I said next. “Yes.”
She pressed her lips together and lowered her arms as she fought for control over her emotions.
“You would think, after all the times I’ve said good-bye in my life, that this would be easier.
There was a small part of me that thought we’d be able to keep you, that you would change history there and stay here. ”
I hugged her as tears burned the backs of my eyes. “I still don’t know. Perhaps history didn’t change. I might still need to save him and forfeit that path.”
She nodded as she pulled back and used her apron to wipe the tears from her cheeks.
“I know. I just—” She let out a breath. “I just wasn’t as prepared as I thought I would be.
” She readjusted her shoulders with certainty as she said, “Fight for your husband, Ally. For as long as you can. Never give up. He’s the most important person to you now. ”
“Thank you, Mama.” I hugged her again and then said, “I’m going to the library to look for information.”
I knew she was worried, but she nodded. “Just be careful. And take one of these banana muffins with you.”
I wasn’t hungry, but I took one and then left the house to walk to the bus stop.
Thirty minutes later, I entered the Hollywood Library.
“Miss Bennett! How wonderful to see you again.” Miss Clampett’s face brightened and then dimmed.
“I heard about you and Mr. Hayes. How unfortunate for you that things didn’t work out.
How will you manage to sit beside him at the premiere of Little Women?
I must confess, my girlfriends and I are thinking about going to Grauman’s Theatre just to see you two together.
It’s all everyone is talking about. They say he broke up with you because of your sister.
” She leaned across the counter. “Is it true?”
Though it had only been four days, Film Daily had already gotten wind of the breakup.
Someone had seen us arguing at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel and watched us part ways.
No one had any idea what really happened, but the prevailing theory was that Vicky came between us.
Someone had found the girl in the park and interviewed her.
The story was blown out of proportion. But it sold copies, and that was the goal.
And the publicity would help the movie premiere.
“I’d rather not talk about it,” I said with a tight smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m here to find a book.”
“Of course.” Miss Clampett stood straight. “I’m so sorry, Miss Bennett. Do you need me to help you?”
“No, thank you.” I left her at the counter and walked toward the back of the library where The Annals of San Francisco was kept. As I passed a man sitting at a table, reading a newspaper, the headline caught my eye.
“Party Raided at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel—Twelve Arrested.”
I paused, my eyes growing wide as the picture under the caption showed the very party that Spencer had brought me to. I recognized the flappers, George Cryer, and even Kent Kane Parrot.
“Excuse me,” I said to the man.
He pulled the side of the paper back, irritation on his face until he recognized me and then fumbled to stand. “Yes?”
“May I see the newspaper just for a moment?”
“Yes, of course, Miss Bennett! It would be an honor to share it with you.” He shoved it toward me as he stared.
“Thank you.” I closed it so I could see the front-page headline better.
Hollywood—A private party at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel was raided by US federal agents on Monday night with twelve people arrested and charged with gambling, prostitution, and the illegal possession of alcohol.
Undercover agents have been working for months to apprehend members of the so-called City Hall Gang.
A trial is pending as this story develops.
The article shared the names of the men and women arrested and the charges that were filed against them.
Spencer’s name wasn’t listed, which led me to believe he’d helped the feds, just as he said he was doing.
“Thank you,” I said to the man as I handed the newspaper back to him.
“Any time.” He continued to watch me with wide eyes as I left and went to the aisle where the book was located, distracted by the news.
Was Spencer free from his obligation to the feds now? Hopefully he could put his past behind him and move on.
But would he?
I didn’t want to worry about Spencer anymore. I needed to focus on Sam and learn whether history had changed. I scanned the shelf several times and then looked on the adjoining shelf, but The Annals of San Francisco was nowhere to be found. Perhaps it hadn’t been shelved properly.
Returning to the circulation desk, I smiled at Miss Clampett. “Could you tell me where I might find The Annals of San Francisco? I borrowed the copy about two months ago and returned it, but I can’t seem to find it.”
“Of course. Let me just take a look to see if it was checked out.”
I waited as she looked through the index file.
“Here it is.” She smiled and turned back to me. “Seems that the book is suddenly very popular. No one checked it out for years, and now it’s been checked out twice in the past two months.”
Frowning, I tried to look at the index card she held. “Do you know who checked it out?”
Miss Clampett pulled the card back. “I’m sorry. I can’t share patron information with you. What I can say is that it’s overdue and should have been returned last week. When it comes back, I’ll send you a notification. Will that do?”
“I really need to know something from the book. Do you have any other histories of San Francisco?”
“Yes, of course.” She led me back to the shelf I had already looked at and handed me three books.
I took them to a nearby table and spent over an hour digging through them. They listed a great fire on November 3rd, but there was nothing about Sam or me. It did state that the fire was attributed to the Sydney Ducks and that a vigilante committee had hanged four of them.
There would still be a fire, but would it kill Sam and me?
I put the books back on the shelf and returned to Miss Clampett. “Are you sure you can’t tell me who borrowed The Annals of San Francisco?”
“I’m afraid not. But I will be sending them a notice to let them know the book is overdue.”
Disappointment filled my heart, but I nodded. Although I wanted to know if Sam and I were still supposed to die on November 3rd, I had a bit of time. Surely the book would be returned in the next four weeks. “Thank you. If you could get word to me as soon as it’s back, I would appreciate it.”
“Of course.”
I left the library feeling deflated and more uncertain than before.
The only other way I might know how Sam died was if I looked up his death record in San Francisco, but that would mean another ten-hour drive or sending a letter to the public records department in San Francisco and waiting several weeks for them to respond.
If the book didn’t show up soon, I would have to do something.
October 29, 1929
Hollywood, California
Over two weeks had passed since the night of the fire and my trip to the library.
I checked back often, but the book had not been returned, and I was nowhere closer to getting answers.
Lydia had asked Hope if she knew whether I would lose my second path if I forfeited the first, but she didn’t know, either.
She had visited with family and sent letters to others who were not close at hand, but we had heard nothing promising. No one knew.