Page 40 of The Chef and the Countess

“It’s just what it says. They’ve been around since the 1690s and usually served chops, steaks, and cutlets with a vegetable or two. Many were not all that clean, and neither were the servers. Wooden tables and benches, sawdust on the floor, tankards of watery ale, usually men only and rowdy. I didn’t want that.”

Celia smiled. “I admire you for achieving your goal. Building and running a business the way you choose must be immensely satisfying.”

Liam nodded. “It wasn’t easy, and it still isn’t. It’s only in the past few months that everything started to gel. For example, Walter allowed a certain criminal element to hang about here. I put a stop to that.”

Celia’s eyes widened. “Is your business in any danger?”

“No. They were here mainly for the brothel. They’ve moved on to other establishments. This place became too boring, I suppose.”

The door burst open, and Tommy entered the room. “Liam! The shed is on fire!”

Liam ran to the rear entrance with Celia and Tommy right behind him. He flung open the door to find a wall of flame engulfing the storage shed. “Tommy lad, run to the next street for the fire brigade. You know where it is. Hurry now.”

Tommy disappeared into the alley. By now, the staff had gathered in the kitchen. Liam pointed at Bruce and his potman, Jack. “There are buckets of sand hanging behind my office. Get them now.”

The men located them and handed one of them to Liam. Bruce and Jack carried the other two. Liam stepped outside, and sparks drifted in the slight breeze toward the roof of his restaurant. “Fiona! Find more buckets of anything that can hold water. Start filling them!”

Fiona grabbed Celia and a few others and left the doorway. Liam threw sand on the roiling flames, though it didn’t help much. Bruce and Jack did the same. “Bruce, form a line, fill these buckets, and start the relay.”

“Aye, Liam.” The ex-boxer hurried away, and Liam watched helplessly as the large shed burned with almighty heat. A tall spiral of sparks reached into the night sky. What was in the shed? Fifty-pound bags of potatoes and carrots because the weather was not below freezing, as well as jars of preserves and all of Hornsby’s items for the unfortunates, like boots, mittens, and the like. There were also extra pots, dishes, and other kitchen extras. Hundreds of pounds of merchandise and excess inventory. Gone.

With the line formed, Liam was handed a bucket of water. He emptied it and passed it along until he was given another. This continued for several minutes as he closely watched the roof overhang. Then he saw it: the corner of the roof of the restaurant was on fire.

The peal of bells clanging and the thunderous clamor of horses’ hooves filled the air as two wagons pulled up by the alley. Tommy must have told them the fire was in the rear. Good lad. One horse-drawn wagon had an expanding ladder, and Liam pointed to the roof overhang.

The fireman nodded, giving instructions to the others. The men pushed back the crowd that had gathered near the alley entrance. On the rear of the other wagon was a mounted vertical boiler with plumes of steam coming from the top. Liam silently hoped it had a chance to build up enough pressure to allow water to be pumped at high compression.

The station officer ran toward Liam. “Stand back, if you please. We’re hooking up the hoses.”

“The roof—”

“We’ll take care of it, sir. Please take your people to safety.”

Liam moved everyone inside, and they watched out the windows. Celia came to him and took his arm, squeezing it. He looked down at her, then patted her hand assuredly since she seemed so worried. Bloody hell, he was concerned.

The firefighters, resplendent in their double-breasted serge tunics and brass helmets, worked with precision, extinguishing the fire in twenty minutes. But how had the fire started in the shed? Liam’s confidence in the absence of any criminal element in his business was shaken. He resolved to question Fiona about the pub’s regular customers and any signs of unlawful activity.

The station officer waved Liam outside, so he pulled on his wool coat and joined the man near the smoldering wreckage of his shed. The air held a lingering, unpleasant odor of burnt potatoes, carrots, wool, and wood.

“We found this,” the officer said, handing Liam a stained rag. “Smell it.”

Liam held it to his nose and sniffed. The odor was faint. “Oil of some kind?”

“Exactly. I’m guessing paraffin oil. It’s a popular choice as it’s odorless except when exposed to high temperatures. That’s what you’re smelling. It was used as an accelerant. I need to report all suspicious fires to the Metropolitan Police, Mr…?”

The police? Jaysus. “Mr. Liam Hallahan.”

“I’m Captain Brannigan. Let’s go inside and fill out the paperwork.”

“Can I open tonight?”

“There’s no need to shut you down; the fire wasn’t inside the establishment.”

As he led the station officer towards the rear entrance, Liam’s frown deepened. The fire was a cause for concern. Maybe it was the work of a criminal element. But why? It was more likely the actions of someone with a grudge against him…like a vengeful viscount settling a gaming debt by hiring thugs to start a fire? The potential danger was palpable.

* * *

Sunday arrived, and after breakfast in the staff dining area—where the fire was the main topic of discussion--Liam disappeared. Since it was sunny and not overly chilly, Celia decided to go for a walk and explore. Not many businesses were open on Sunday, as the law stated no one could open until one o’clock in the afternoon, so many shops and restaurants didn’t bother. It was probably the reason Liam had decided to close on Sundays during the winter.