The Edge of Dreams (Molly Murphy Mysteries Book 14) Page 26

  “Molly, dear, how are you feeling?” Sid asked. “I hope we didn’t disturb your nap.”

  “I’m well on the road to recovery, thank you,” I said. “Come on in.”

  “We won’t stay,” Gus said, stepping just over the threshold to get out of the rain. “We’re going to see Minnie Hamilton. The letter we hoped for has just arrived from Professor Freud in Austria. You remember I wrote to him, telling him about Mabel and asking him for a recommendation? Well, he’s kindly written back.” She held up a letter written in a strange, foreign script. To me it looked as if a spider had crawled into the inkwell and then across the page. “And listen to what he says,” she continued. “I’ll translate as best I can, since I’m still not an expert at reading German handwriting. Anyway, I got the gist of it. He says that he believes Dr. Otto Werner might still be in America, and if he is, then he could recommend no man more highly for the job. He says Dr. Werner’s insights into the workings of the subconscious mind are brilliant, especially in the new field of the interpretation of dreams.”

  “You see,” Sid chimed in. “We found the right man, half by chance. So we’re going back to see him again, and we’ll show him the letter from Professor Freud. That will undoubtedly do the trick and make him realize that he is the only one who can help Mabel. And the more we thought about it, the more it made sense to do as Dr. Werner suggested and have him take Mabel to the clinic in Switzerland, where he can work with her. Of course she can’t be cured in a few days. We were silly to think that she could.”

  “Sid thought that maybe I should volunteer to go with her, since I speak German and have the freedom to travel,” Gus said. “I wouldn’t want to leave Sid alone too long. Just enough to see Mabel safely settled in.”

  “That’s really good of you, Gus,” I said. “I’d feel happier if you were with Mabel. And I’d also feel happier if she were safely far away from New York.”

  “Why is that?” Gus asked.

  “Because I think we’re dealing with a dangerous man who has killed many times. I think he killed her parents, and her life may also be in danger.” As I said the words, I wondered if Daniel had a photograph of Terrence Daughtery, and if showing it to Mabel might reawaken the memories she had suppressed.

  “Do you now know who killed Mabel’s parents?” Sid asked sharply.

  “We may,” I said. “And if she recognized the photograph, that would be proof, wouldn’t it?”

  “We’d have to ask Dr. Werner about that first,” Gus said. “We don’t know if seeing the man who killed her parents would be too much for her delicate mental state.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “I just hope we’re in time, and Dr. Werner hasn’t already sailed home to Germany,” Sid said. “He told us he was leaving in a few days, didn’t he?”

  “If he’s sailed already and is going back to Professor Freud in Vienna, then all is not lost. Maybe I can take Mabel over to meet him in Switzerland,” Gus said.

  “In any case, please warn Mrs. Hamilton to watch Mabel carefully and keep the doors locked,” I said. “This man may not have realized initially that he was seen. He is extremely cunning and clever.”

  “We’ll warn her to take all precautions,” Sid said, “and taking her out of the country seems the obvious thing to do.”

  We parted company, they to the Hamiltons’ residence and I to retrieve a crying baby from his crib. He had obviously heard his beloved aunts’ voices and was incensed that he wasn’t being brought down to see them. I placated him with a rusk and some milk, and he cheered up completely when Bridie came into the kitchen holding his treasured new ball.

  I helped prepare the evening meal and waited impatiently for Daniel to return home. He came just before seven, his jacket and hat drenched with rain.

  “Absolutely pouring out there now,” he said.

  “Didn’t you take an umbrella?” his mother asked, helping him off with his jacket before I could do so.

  “Too much trouble. You can’t move quickly through crowded streets with an umbrella,” he said.

  She sighed. “You two are as bad as each other. Both going to come to a sorry end catching pneumonia, if you want my opinion.”

  “I expect we’ll survive.” Daniel gave me a cautious smile as he came into the kitchen, not sure whether my wrath had completely subsided. “Where’s Liam? In bed already?”

  “He just went up. Bridie’s reading him a story,” I said.

  “That girl is turning into a proper little nursemaid,” he said. “Too bad we can’t keep her.”

  I glanced at Daniel’s mother.

  “It’s strange you should say that,” she said, “because I was just telling Molly that the child needs a more normal life than she gets all alone with me and Martha. She needs to go to a proper school and mix with children her own age. So if you’re willing to keep her for a while, then I’m willing to sacrifice her—for her own good and for yours.”

  Daniel turned to me. “That might not be a bad idea. What do you think, Molly?”

  “You know I’ve always loved Bridie,” I said. “I think it would be a grand idea.”

  “Then we’ll give it a try, if you’re sure you can spare her,” Daniel said.

  So one good thing was going to happen, at last.

  “Let’s go up and say good-night to the boy, shall we?” Daniel put an arm around my shoulder.

  As we walked up the stairs he whispered, “I’m really sorry about what happened earlier today. I hope you understood.”

  “Of course,” I said. “I didn’t want to bring trouble on you, and I would never have come, but I thought that what I’d found was so important.”

  “I wish you had really solved it for us,” Daniel said.

  “I’ve been thinking since,” I said, “and I’ve come up with someone else who might be the kind of person to carry out these murders. Terrence Daughtery. He was Edward’s tutor.”

  “The tutor?” Daniel frowned. “What motive would he have had for killing all those people?”

  “Two possible motives come to mind.” I leaned against the banister at the top of the stairs. “He might possibly have been fonder of Edward than he admitted. Maybe a real bond developed between them in those days. He might have felt guilty that his testimony helped put Edward away for life, and then when he heard that Edward had died, he decided to avenge him. Or … and this seems more likely…” I leaned closer to Daniel, just in case his mother was listening at the bottom of the stairs, “he was secretly planning to murder his domineering mother, and he used the other murders to make them seem tied somehow to Edward Deveraux. Perhaps he hadn’t even heard that Edward had died. Perhaps he wanted to pin them all on him.”

  Daniel stood staring at me, a frown creasing his forehead as he considered this.

  “It would explain why his mother never screamed,” I went on. “She would have screamed if a strange man had entered her bathroom, and neighbors would have heard that scream.”

  Daniel was still frowning. “Let me think about this,” he said.

  A loud cry came from Liam’s room as he heard Daniel’s voice. “Dada!” he yelled.

  Daniel gave me a smile. “We’ll discuss it later. More urgent matters call.” Then he walked through into Liam’s nursery. “How’s my boy?” he called in his booming voice.

  Bridie beamed when we told her the plans for her over the dinner table, then she tried to look sad when she turned to Mrs. Sullivan. “I’ll miss staying with you,” she said. “Will you be all right without me?”

  “Heavens, child, I’ve lived alone for a long while now,” Mrs. Sullivan said.

  “And of course you’re welcome to stay with us anytime you want,” I said in what I hoped was a convincing manner. “And we’ll all come up to you in the summer.”

  So that was settled, and I couldn’t have been more happy. It wasn’t until we were alone in the bedroom that I had a chance to discuss more urgent matters with Daniel.

  “I’ve been thinki
ng about what you said.” He looked up at me as he unbuttoned his shirt. “Terrence Daughtery. He certainly does seem to be the type—antisocial, under his mother’s thumb, young, smart, agile…” He paused. “But who would go to all that trouble to avenge a friend, or to commit so many murders to cover up one valid one?”

  “A person who was mentally unstable? Who had too much time on his hands?” I suggested.

  He sighed as he took the studs from his collar and hung his shirt on the high-backed chair. “We’ll bring him in for questioning. He seems the sort who might crumble under the threat of the Tombs.”

  “And I’ve asked Sid and Gus to warn Mrs. Hamilton to take good care of Mabel,” I said. “You never know—he may not have realized he was seen when he killed her parents, and he may now decide to get rid of her too.”

  “Possibly.” Daniel nodded. “In which case you should be extra vigilant too, my darling. We still don’t know whether that train crash was designed to finish you off, and he might be annoyed you are still running around.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “I sat in his parlor twice. I drank his coffee.”

  Daniel shook his head as if he found me hard to believe. “One of these days you’ll come to a sticky end,” he said. “You have to learn to be careful. Or better still, you have to learn to act like a mother and wife, and not like an investigator.”

  “I didn’t have any idea that Terrence Daughtery might himself be involved when I went to visit him,” I said. “And besides, it was my investigation that finally put the pieces together for you in a case that has been stalled for months.”

  “I suppose I have to agree with that,” he said, “but I’m only concerned with keeping you safe. I don’t want to lose you.”

  I came over and wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his bare flesh against my fine cotton nightgown, and I felt a desire I hadn’t known for weeks shoot through me. Daniel felt it too and his lips came hard against mine. “Will those ribs of yours mind too much if we take this a little further?” he whispered, breathing heavily as he lowered me onto the bed.

  “I think we’ll risk it and see,” I whispered back.

  * * *

  Much later, when I was lying against Daniel’s shoulder and we were both drifting off into satisfied sleep, a thought came to me.

  “Daniel? Are you asleep?”

  He grunted.

  “Something’s just struck me. Where do Dr. Grossman and the butcher who was locked in his meat safe come into this?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” he answered. “I believe Dr. Grossman was the expert witness who testified at the trial as to Edward Deveraux’s mental state and urged for a verdict of insanity.”

  “But the butcher? Did he supply meat to the Deveraux family? Or the cleaver with which Edward’s father was killed?”

  Daniel sighed. “And here I was, drifting into a delightful sleep,” he grunted. “The butcher. Good question. The information we have on him says that he only came to the city recently from somewhere upstate. I’ll have to look into that tomorrow. But the father wasn’t killed with a cleaver. He was hit over the head with a blunt object—from behind, mark you. Just the sort of thing a sneaky person like Edward would do.” He pulled me closer to him. “Now, for heaven’s sake, go to sleep. We’ll know more in the morning.”

  Thirty

  The next morning I awoke to sunlight streaming in. I could hear Daniel humming to himself as he shaved in the bathroom. Today is the day, I thought. We’re going to solve everything. Daniel’s going to be a hero at the police department, and all will be well.

  I dressed and went downstairs to make him coffee and fry him eggs, for once beating his mother to it. She nodded with approval when she came into the kitchen. “That’s more like it,” she said. “Acting like a good wife for once, not rushing all over the place and putting yourself in harm’s way.”

  I smiled sweetly and didn’t answer. Clearly I was becoming more circumspect with age. After we had breakfasted and fed and bathed Liam, I decided we should go for a walk. Liam had been cooped up for a couple of days and needed fresh air, and truly it was too nice a day to stay inside. We strapped him into the buggy and off we went, Bridie trotting beside me like an obedient puppy. It felt as if the city had been spring-cleaned after the rain—everything sparkled and the sky was a clear blue arc as if made of spun glass. Sparrows fluttered, twittering around puddles. A carriage, going past at full speed, sent up a curtain of muddy spray that just missed us.

  We went into Washington Square, still unpopulated at this hour apart from an old gardener attempting to rake up soggy leaves.

  “Where are we going?” Bridie asked.

  “Just for a walk,” I said. “I’m afraid the swings are still too wet to swing on.”

  “I’m getting too old for things like that,” she said. “I’m a proper mother’s helper now, aren’t I?”

  I put my arm around her. “Oh, sweetheart, we’re not keeping you here with us to be a mother’s helper,” I said. “Although you’ve certainly got a way with Liam, and I do appreciate the help. But we want you to enjoy your childhood while you can. It won’t be long before you’re a young lady. So anytime you feel like swinging on the swings, you do it.”

  She smiled, half embarrassed.

  “I tell you what,” I said. “Why don’t I treat us to a hot chocolate at the Viennese pastry shop on Broadway?”

  This suggestion met with no resistance and off we went. Bridie sipped delightedly at her hot chocolate, and Liam couldn’t wait for me to cool each spoonful for him. But I’m afraid my brain was racing again. Being in the Viennese coffee shop was stirring up unwanted thoughts: Mabel going to Switzerland. Mabel possibly still being in danger. Daniel worried that I was still in danger. I glanced out of the window. Was someone stalking me, watching me at this moment?

  “Rubbish,” I said out loud, making Bridie look up. I grinned. “Just talking to myself,” I said. I had been all over the city. There had been plenty of chances to push me in front of a speeding automobile or to put cyanide in my coffee. And yet our murderer had promised to go out with a bang. What did that mean? When was he planning his finale?

  Suddenly I felt I should be doing something. Daniel would be interviewing Terrence Daughtery and the butcher’s wife. But I wanted to know more about Edward Deveraux. I wanted to find out if he and his tutor had been close. I wanted to talk to Marcus Deveraux. I waited, attempting to hide my impatience, while Bridie savored the last drops of her chocolate. Then we walked back, in a way that seemed painfully slowly, with Bridie lingering to look in store windows, and then spending even more time stopping to pet dogs and smile at other children. I was tempted to suggest that Bridie could take Liam home by herself, but I remembered another occasion when a baby had been kidnapped from his pram. All too easy to do, and if someone wanted to get back at Daniel, what better way than to take his son? So I delivered them safely to the front door, told Mrs. Sullivan that I had a couple of errands to run, and disappeared before she could protest.

  The Broadway trolley took me down to Wall Street, and I stopped a rather grand-looking businessman in a frock coat and topper to ask him where I might find Deveraux and Masters bank. It wasn’t as impressive looking as some of the buildings that I passed, but there was a doorkeeper in a dark green livery and he halted me at the entrance. “May I help you?” he asked.

  “I’d like to speak to Mr. Deveraux himself,” I said. “It’s a rather urgent matter.”

  I could see him sizing up the cut of my clothes, my still-Irish accent, and evaluating whether I might be a client or even worthy of admission. Grudgingly, he opened the door for me and let me step into a dark foyer, all mahogany and green marble. It smelled slightly musty and dusty, the way old libraries do. And there was no sign of clients, just several clerks, scribbling away at desks.

  “Please wait here,” the doorman said, and he signaled to a balding man sitting at the closest desk. “This lady would lik
e to speak with Mr. Deveraux,” he said in hushed tones.

  The balding man raised an eyebrow. “Do you have an appointment, ma’am?”

  “No, but it is a matter of some urgency, concerning his brother,” I said.

  This took him completely by surprise. “His brother? Did you not know that his brother is dead?”

  “I am well aware of that. If I could just have a minute of Mr. Deveraux’s valuable time, I’ve come about a matter that needs to be settled.”

  I could see him trying to work out what important matter concerning Edward Deveraux might concern me.

  “Mr. Deveraux is extremely busy. However I’ll see if…” He started toward a flight of marble steps, sweeping rather grandly up to a gloomy landing. I waited, listening to the scratching of pens and the occasional cough. I decided I was prepared to barge up those steps myself if necessary, but he returned quite quickly. “Mr. Deveraux is prepared to see you for a moment. This way please.” And he went before me back up the steps, then tapped on a mahogany door and ushered me into a large, bright office. It faced away from the street, letting in sunlight and giving a glimpse of the East River. It had a thick pile carpet and the walls were lined with books—it was clearly designed to impress potential clients.

  A large man in a well-tailored black suit was sitting at a polished desk. He looked up frowning as I came in, then a smile crossed his face. “I know you,” he said. “The lady from the train.”

  I recognized him too now. “You were the one who saved my baby,” I said. “I’m eternally grateful, Mr. Deveraux.”

  “I only did what any decent man would have done,” he said. “And if you’ve just come back to thank me, that really wasn’t necessary.”

  I smiled, thinking how I might make use of this unforeseen connection.

  “What a terrible business,” he went on. “I hope the young fellow was unharmed?”