Hush Now, Don't You Cry (Molly Murphy, #11)

When we were out of hearing I asked the chief, “Do you know if my friends have made any progress in being able to interpret her language?”


“I don’t believe she has spoken a word since the body was found,” he said. “She is curled up like a wounded animal, poor little thing. One can’t help feeling sorry for her, even if she does possess this monstrous side to her.” He leaned confidentially closer to me. “I’ve only just been told that she killed her sister. One has to wonder if she also found a way to kill her grandfather. Sometimes these diseased minds can be fearfully cunning and clever when they want to be.”

“I presume you found no evidence that anyone else had been near that trapdoor and could have pushed the housekeeper?”

“Nobody else knew of its existence,” he said scornfully. “The family members were all shocked to find out that the child was in the house.”

“But it might not hurt to dust for fingerprints,” I suggested. “If anyone was up there…”

“Remember that the murderer of Brian Hannan left no obvious prints,” he said. “If anyone else was up there, he’d have been careful.”

“He or she,” I corrected. “We can’t rule out that a woman was involved.”

“Since it appears that a frail twelve-year-old girl has managed to push a hefty woman to her death, I suppose we can’t rule out a woman as a murderer,” he agreed, “although I’m afraid this latest death is all too horribly simple. I suspect that the housekeeper was about to tell the world about her secret charge and the girl tried to stop her the only way she knew how. If only those two women experts can interpret her speech, maybe we’ll find out what was going through her troubled brain.”

We reached the cottage door. I led the way and again bumped into Sam in the hallway.

“Hello, my boy, what have you been up to?” Chief Prescott asked.

Again the look of panic on Sam’s face. “Just eating some cake, sir,” Sam mumbled. “I’m on my way back.”

He pushed past us and almost ran down the path.

“That boy has something to hide,” Chief Prescott said. “Maybe I’ll take him aside and put the fear of the law into him.”

Daniel’s mother came out of the kitchen. “Don’t tell me you’re back again,” she began to say to the police chief, then saw me. “Oh, Molly, it’s you. This man keeps trying to see Daniel.”

“I think Daniel is now well enough for a visit,” I said, “and I’m sure he’ll want to be brought up to date with everything that has happened.”

“If you think so.” She gave me a look of resigned disgust. “You are his wife, after all.”

“Yes, I am. This way, please,” I said brightly and escorted the police chief up the stairs. As I had surmised, Daniel was pleased to see him. I decided that the police chief would speak more freely if they were alone.

“Don’t tire him out, Chief Prescott,” I said. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”

And I bowed out of the room. New York, I thought. I needed to go back to New York to find out about that list of place-names. But I could hardly leave Daniel again. Who could I send in my place? I wondered if any of the Hannan family clan could be considered an ally, then I remembered Eliza’s relieved face when she said, “It wasn’t one of us.” No. They’d want Kathleen to be guilty and this nightmare to be behind them.

I went into the drawing room and took paper from the desk, then I wrote a note to Sid and Gus. I need to speak with one of you on an urgent matter. Could one of you be spared for a while?

I blotted it and took it to the policeman at the front door. He agreed to deliver it and a few minutes later Sid appeared.

“Molly, you’re back. I suppose you’ve heard the news. What a sad, sad business. She seems such a sweet, gentle, pathetic little thing. And she’s inconsolable about the housekeeper.”

“I tried to persuade them to invite Dr. Birnbaum to examine her,” I said.

“What an excellent idea.”

“But they rejected it,” I finished. “I think everyone wants to believe her guilty.”

“And you still don’t?”

“I really don’t want to. I know all the evidence points to her, but something else came up when I was in New York. A list of place-names on Brian Hannan’s desk—and they seem to be places where Father Patrick Hannan has been a priest. I’d really like to go back to the city and check them out, but I shouldn’t leave Daniel again.”

“So you’d like one of us to do it.” Sid had a great way of reading my mind. “I’d be happy to. To tell you the truth, I’m finding being with that child most disturbing. Gus is so much better at this sort of thing and if anyone can get through to her, Gus will. So tell me what you’d like me to do?”

“I’m not quite sure,” I said. “I have a list of five place-names and I suspect they are all in the Hudson Valley. Could you check the archives of The New York Times and the Herald and see if these names turn up in any context in the last year or so?”