He pressed his lips together, fighting back emotion, before he said, “We in this household thank you for your efforts, Mrs. Sullivan. We pray to God that you find the person responsible. Alderman Hannan will be sadly missed.”
Of course he will, I thought as I walked away. All those people have now lost their livelihood. I made my way back to the El through a carpet of fallen leaves. It was a crisp fall day and I passed well-dressed people, out for their morning constitutional. They nodded politely as we passed and I wondered if any of them were Mr. Archie’s parents. Why had I never considered him before? A young man with usually perfect manners, who had had to endure the tragedy of losing his beloved daughter. What possible reason could he have for murdering the one who financed his pleasant lifestyle? Unless his father-in-law had found out something about him—some guilty secret? A mistress, perhaps? And was threatening to cut off his allowance.
I filed this information in my already cluttered mind and went to see the one person I hoped could actually achieve results in this case—my old friend and alienist Dr. Birnbaum. The Third Avenue El took me down to Ninth Street and I headed for familiar territory. Dr. Birnbaum usually stayed at the Hotel Lafayette, just off Washington Square. I asked for him at the front desk and was told that he had not yet left his room. The clerk indicated it would be most unseemly for a young woman to wish to go up to a gentleman’s room, but consented to take Dr. Birmbaum a message.
He returned instantly and addressed me in a rather more courteous manner, saying that I should wait in the hotel restaurant where the good doctor would join me for a cup of coffee shortly. I was ushered through to a pretty room with checked tablecloths and bright French china. I found that the early rising had given me an appetite and worked my way through several breakfast rolls and a cup of coffee before Dr. Birnbaum appeared. As always he looked dapper, immaculately groomed with his neat little blond beard and mustache. He clicked his heels and bowed in that Germanic way when he saw me.
“Miss Murphy, or should I say Mrs. Sullivan, what a delightful surprise.” He took my hand, then seated himself opposite me. “To what do I owe this early morning call?”
I told him, trying to put everything as clearly as possible. He listened, not looking at me but toying with the crumbs on the table. Only when I had finished did he look up at me.
“A most fascinating case, Mrs. Sullivan. The relationship between twins has always intrigued me. And a separate language…”
“So you will come and see her?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I could only examine her at the request of her parents. She does have parents and a family, doesn’t she?”
“But they haven’t even visited her in years. They believe her to be in an insane asylum. I could take you up to her so that they’d never know.”
He shook his head this time. “Mrs. Sullivan. I am required to follow a strict code of ethics in my profession. Much as I would like to see the young girl, I reiterate that the parents would have to invite me first.”
“If she had been confined to an asylum?”
“Then I could only see her at the invitation of the director of the institution.”
I sighed. “If you saw her, do you think there is anything you could do to help her?”
“I couldn’t say that without observing for myself. From what you tell me the shock of her sister’s death has put her into a catatonic state from which she chooses not to emerge. Maybe I could bring her out of it, maybe not.”
“But do you think it’s likely that she really did kill her sister deliberately, when one of the relatives tells me that they adored each other?”
He smiled, sadly. “Children sometimes do things on impulse, things that they regret later. I remember that my brother killed our puppy because it bit him. He knocked it across the room because his hand was bleeding and he was angry and scared. He hadn’t mean to kill it, however, and wept bitterly. Perhaps one twin said something that annoyed the other, making her react and give the other girl a shove, not realizing how close they were to the clifftops.”
“But do you think it would be possible that she actually did mean her twin to fall to her death?”
“Oh, yes,” he said. “It would be quite feasible. You say the other girl was popular and pretty. She might have had anger building up inside for a long time. Or it might have been an impulse on the spur of the moment, lashing out the way children do. Of course, she regretted it instantly but it was too late.”
“And do you think that was the action of an insane person?”
“Oh, no, quite the opposite. I think that would have been the action of a normal child. I think we have all wanted at times to be the only child, to rid ourselves of annoying siblings. Only this one acted, with devastating consequences.”