The Edge of Dreams (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #14)

We stared at each other. Outside his window I heard the mournful toot of a tugboat on the East River. Then I asked, “Mr. Deveraux, is it possible that any other attempts have been made on your life?”


“Not that I’m aware of.” He frowned suddenly. “Wait. Now that I think of it, there was one horrible incident. Not my life, but my dogs’. Earlier this year someone killed my dogs. Threw them poisoned meat. I complained to the police but nothing was ever done. You talked about this person wanting to punish. To inflict pain. I was dashed fond of those dogs.”

“When was this?”

“Beginning of May.”

“Then he started small and moved up to killing people,” I said.

“And this man is still at large?” He was scowling again now. “What is your husband doing about it? If it’s the tutor, arrest the blighter, for God’s sake. Make him talk. I hear that the police have their ways of getting a confession.”

“I believe my husband will be bringing him in for questioning today, so we may soon know the truth. But in the meantime, you might still be in danger. I’d advise you to be wary, Mr. Deveraux.”

“Thank you for the warning, Mrs. Sullivan. I appreciate your taking the time to come and see me. Although how one can protect oneself from a monster who wrecks trains, I don’t know.”

*

I felt relieved, almost elated, as I came out of the building. I hadn’t been the one targeted after all. It had been Marcus Deveraux. And Daniel would have arrested the tutor by now, and we could all breathe easier. I went home and resumed my wifely duties, ironing my husband’s shirts and feeding my son his midday meal.

We had only just begun to eat when Daniel himself came in.

“This is a nice surprise,” I said, getting up to greet him. “What are you doing home at this hour?” The question ended warily, because I had just remembered that his job was in jeopardy.

“I came to see if you’d like to go on a little trip with me tomorrow,” he said.

“A trip—where?”

“Up to a place called Woodstock.”

“What for? What’s at Woodstock?”

“Not exactly in Woodstock. A couple of miles outside it, apparently. It’s a private institution for the insane, where Edward Deveraux was locked away. I thought I should take a look for myself, and I’d appreciate another pair of sharp eyes.”

“Of course, I’d love to come,” I said. “Where is it?”

“In the Catskill Mountains, halfway up the Hudson River. We’ll get off the train at Kingston, and I’ve telegraphed the local police to have some form of transportation waiting for us.” He turned to his mother. “You can handle the boy for a day, can’t you, Mother?”

Daniel’s mother had already risen to her feet when he came in and was busy loading food onto a plate for him. She put it onto the table and indicated that he should sit and eat. As usual he complied, pulling out a chair and sinking onto it.

“She’s been handling him ever since she arrived,” I answered for her. “An absolute godsend. And Bridie’s a big help.”

“I expect we’ll manage all right,” Mrs. Sullivan said evenly as she put a glass of water next to her son’s place. “Only I’m not sure it’s wise taking Molly on a jolting train ride after what she’s been through.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Almost healed.” Of course I really wanted to go and would never have admitted to the ache that still nagged at my side. I sat down again opposite Daniel as he took a bite of his meat pie. “But why now? Has something new transpired?”

“Remember you asked about the butcher?” His face was alight as he looked up at me. “And we couldn’t think what connection he could possibly have to Edward Deveraux?”

I nodded.

“I told you he only came to the city a year ago? And that he married a new wife recently? He ran a butcher’s shop in Kingston. And the woman he married so recently had been employed at the asylum near Woodstock as a nurse. She and Edward Deveraux had not exactly seen eye to eye. Apparently she had ruined one of his experiments and made him keep his room tidy. He told her once that she’d be sorry.”

“I see. And what can be gained from going to the asylum in person?”

“I’m not sure, but I think we should speak with the doctor in charge and verify the facts of Deveraux’s death for ourselves, don’t you?”

“More importantly, did you bring in the tutor?” I asked. “Were you able to establish a connection between him and Edward Deveraux? Had he visited the asylum?”

Daniel gave me an apologetic grin. “The tutor, I fear, is no longer our prime suspect. At the exact time that several of the murders took place, he was sitting with two little girls on the other side of the city, instructing them in their ABCs. Their mother confirmed it.”

“Oh,” I said. “Then who the deuce are we looking for?”

Daniel shrugged. “The only other person with a close connection to Edward Deveraux was his brother, Marcus, and there was certainly no love between them. He doesn’t seem the type to avenge anyone’s death.”