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

I forced myself to get up and dress in preparation for the visit from the representatives of Wanamaker’s. They came around noon—two of them, a very superior-looking young man in a black frock coat and a harried young woman, who was carrying the parcels. Actually I was not enthralled with anything they had brought, and I told them that I’d come to the store with my husband as soon as I felt better.

I had a nap in the afternoon, in preparation for the evening meeting, and heaved a sigh of relief when Daniel came to visit me around five o’clock, before the suffragists arrived. I could only imagine his feelings if he’d found me surrounded by militant women making inflammatory banners.

“Well, that’s settled then,” he said, looking pleased with himself. “I received a telegram from my mother. She will be with us tomorrow. It’s very good of her, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes. Very good,” I tried to say with all sincerity.

“And no doubt you’ve ordered enough linens to furnish the most splendid beds?”

I shook my head. “There was nothing that really took my fancy. The quilts and eiderdowns were rather too ornate for my taste. So let’s hope your mother arrives with enough sheets and blankets for both beds.”

Daniel shot me a questioning look. I could tell he was wondering whether I was trying to play games—to make sure we had nothing to sleep on, because he had expressed his disapproval of Wanamaker’s coming to the house. Now that I thought about it, I was rather pleased with this unplanned outcome. But I maintained a serene expression.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “Sid and Gus have already kindly offered to lend us anything we need until we have time to go shopping together. We’ll be fine.”

He managed a smile and reached out to squeeze my arm. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“A little hollow-eyed,” I said. “I didn’t sleep well last night. Bad dreams.”

“That’s to be expected, isn’t it?” Daniel said. “You were in a severe accident. You’ve probably had a concussion.”

“It’s also the underlying worry,” I said. “When you tell me that it’s possible a train crash was orchestrated to kill me, it’s hardly reassuring, is it? It means that I could be in danger at any moment, anywhere in this city.”

“Perhaps I exaggerated the danger, Molly. I went too far,” he said. “You were the one who pointed out that the only thing linking all the murders together was me. And then you were on the train that crashed, and I got the note saying it was too bad he hadn’t succeeded. I’m afraid I thought the worst.”

“There could have been any number of people he wanted to kill on that train,” I said. “My own belief is that he’s enjoying claiming responsibility just to upset you. It will probably turn out to be a simple accident after all—a disk that flew off in the breeze, or a signalman who was not paying proper attention and misread.” Then I held up my hand, excited. “I’ve got it, Daniel. If the disk wasn’t attached properly, and it somehow slipped or twisted, a nine upside down is a six.”

“You may have hit on something there,” he said. “I’ll have to see how these disks are attached, and if that’s a possibility. But then why wasn’t the disk found?”

“It could have blown off and landed in somebody’s window for all we know. Or maybe a child took it as a souvenir after the train crashed.”

“You’re right.” He leaned across and took my hand. “I can’t wait until we’re back in our own house living a normal life again, can you? It’s been hard going home at night to that narrow, dingy apartment and wishing you were there to hold in my arms.”

“You’ll be able to hold me in your arms tomorrow night,” I said. “But carefully. I’m fragile. I might break.”

He laughed. “I tell you what, I’m devilishly hungry, Molly. Do you think there’s a chance your friends would invite me to dinner tonight?”

“They would, but you wouldn’t want to come,” I said. “They’ve a whole band of women coming for a meeting.”

“Oh, God. No thanks. Well, it better be the pie shop again.” He got up, squeezing my hand before he let it go. “Until tomorrow then. I’m meeting Mother at the station, if my work allows me to escape for that long. If not, she’ll have to take a cab. You’ll make her welcome, won’t you?”

“Of course,” I said. “What time is she expected?”

“Not until about four thirty.”

“I’ll be in the drawing room and keep an eye out for her.”

“Splendid. Well, good-bye then, my darling.”

“Good-bye.” I blew him a kiss.

As soon as I heard his footsteps going down the stairs, I felt bad that I had turned him away the one time he had wanted to have dinner with us. But truly I was doing him a kindness. Women suffragists would not have helped his appetite!

*

I sat in the kitchen while Sid and Gus made sandwiches and pitchers of lemonade.

“One has to be careful about offering wine,” Sid said. “Sometimes these women are also ardent followers of the temperance movement.”

“It’s a warm evening,” Gus said, as she wrapped a stack of dainty sandwiches in a damp serviette. “We were thinking it might be more pleasant to sit in the conservatory, rather than the more formal atmosphere of the drawing room.”