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

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Not nearly as sorry as I am,” he said. “My brother and I were both working on the subway, you know. Then it caved in, my brother was killed, and I was laid off. Work stopped until the investigation was completed. No money to tide us over, just good-bye and see you later.” He pulled up another chair and leaned closer to me. “I was planning to kill him, you know,” he said in a low whisper. “Because it was shoddy materials that caused that cave-in. I’ve worked on enough construction sites. I know about these things. I took a look at that collapsed tunnel. I could tell they had skimped on the rebar and poured the walls too thin. I tried to get people to listen to me, but I was warned to back off—roughed up, in fact by Hannan’s bully boys. I got the feeling that the Hannan brothers were not going to be held responsible for anything, because of who they were. So I followed him to Newport. I thought it would be easier to get him alone out there. Then he had a vehicle waiting and he took off and I lost him. And when I found the house, the gates were locked. I suppose that brought me back to my senses. I couldn’t even find a way into the damned house.”

“What did you do then?”

“I turned around and went home. Pathetic, isn’t it? I feel like such a fool.”

“And you didn’t see anyone else anywhere near the house?” I asked.

“It was dark,” he snapped. “And all I wanted to do was to get out of there and back to New York. It was foolish on my part to think I could do anything to harm people like the Hannans. But I tell you one thing. I’m glad he’s dead. I hope his family is suffering the way Trudi and the little ones are. The way I am.” He looked directly at me and I saw tears in his eyes. “We were twins you know. There’s a special bond between twins. I feel as if part of myself is missing now.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “My husband was part of a police task force looking into the tunnel collapse. If they can prove negligence or even corruption, then I’m sure you’ll get compensation.”

“It won’t bring him back, will it?” he said.

“No. It won’t bring him back.” I stood up. “Mr. Hermann, I’ll probably have to give your name to the police and they’ll come and question you, but I’ll delay as long as I can. Maybe they’ll have found the real culprit by then.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Because if they throw me in jail, then who will look after these little ones?” And he pointed toward the towheads in the doorway.

So I had established one thing—we could cross Joshua Hermann off the list of suspects, and since he was the only outsider who had been observed, again it was narrowed down to family. I couldn’t think of anyone else I could question, I made my way back to the station. With any luck I’d be back in Newport in time for tea.

As the train huffed and puffed its way along the coast I thought again about the family. Brian Hannan had had a falling out with his brother Joseph. Presumably Joseph was to blame for the substandard materials that caused the subway collapse that Daniel was investigating—and that was why he was so anxious to get Daniel out of the cottage. And that might also have been just one incident that led Brian Hannan to discover his brother had been cheating the company, But would that have made Joseph kill his brother? They were partners, after all. Brian couldn’t just throw his brother out. So my thoughts moved on to Terrence and then to Sam and I remembered something that Eliza had said. When Colleen fell from the cliff Sam had come running up late, looking guilty. If only Daniel was well enough, I’d leave the questioning of Sam to him. Men are so much better at extracting confessions from young boys.

My thoughts then turned to Kathleen. What would happen to her now that her protector had gone? Surely the rest of the family members would want her back in the asylum. How could I ever persuade them to leave her where she was in Mrs. McCreedy’s care, or better still, to let someone like Dr. Birnbaum see if he could help her.