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

“What if it was a horrible accident, and she’s dealing with deep-seated guilt?” Sid said. “What if she went into their room and by mistake knocked over a lamp? Then the flames went up between her and the door, so she escaped the only way she could, down the fire escape?”


“Which still doesn’t explain why she didn’t wake her parents and let them escape too,” I said. “If she’d knocked over the lamp she’d have screamed. They’d have awakened. All would have escaped safely, even if the fire couldn’t be extinguished.” I paused, letting them digest this. “No, there’s something not right here. There was a reason her parents burned in their beds. I think it’s possible they were killed first.”

“By Mabel?” Gus asked.

“I hope not, unless she’s got some kind of demonic possession or evil other self, like one reads about in books.”

“Dual personalities are apparently a documented phenomenon,” Gus said.

“So were you able to make anything of her dream, Gus?” Sid asked. “A black snake that filled the room.”

“I’m afraid I’m in the dark about that,” Gus said. “Unless the nameless monster we all have in our dreams takes on the form of a snake for her, and just symbolizes danger.”

“Why did you ask her if the snake was red?” Sid asked.

“Because I thought she might be using it as a symbol for the fire—tongues of red reaching out for her, rising to fill the room. But she was quite definite that it was black. And it had frightening slit eyes that looked down at her.”

“I noticed something interesting,” I interjected. “She said ‘his’ eyes. She talked of the snake as ‘it’ to begin with, but then she made it masculine.”

“That is interesting,” Gus said. “Let’s hope she is able to write down more details of future nightmares. I feel very strongly that they may unlock the mystery for us.”

“Professor Freud would probably say that the snake was a symbol of masculinity,” Sid commented. “That dreaming of a snake was normal at the time of puberty.”

“He probably would say that,” Gus agreed. “But Mabel wouldn’t be terrified by it unless she had reason to fear her awakening sexuality. And we know she’s been sheltered.”

“There is always her father,” Sid said.

There was a sudden silence in the cab, and the rhythmic clip-clop of the horse’s hoofs sounded unnaturally loud.

“You don’t think her father tried to…” I said, not able to finish the sentence.

“It does happen,” Gus replied.

“So he tried to interfere with her and she killed him?” Even as I said the words I dismissed them in my own mind. Mabel had loved her father; that much was evident. There had been no hesitation when she spoke of either of her parents. It struck me that we were looking for an unknown factor, but at this moment I had no idea what it was.





Fourteen

By the time we reached home my ribs were aching from the constant jolting over cobbles. My mother-in-law took one look at me and ordered me up to bed.

“I told you it was too soon for you to be running around,” she said. “The only thing that can heal ribs is rest. Now, you go and lie down and I’ll bring you up some of the soup I’ve just made.”

For once I allowed myself to be bossed like this.

“Where is Liam?” I asked as I hauled myself up the stairs. “Has he been good?”

“Like a little angel. He’s just fallen asleep, but Bridie’s been amusing him all morning, and you should hear him laughing and cooing. It delights the heart to hear such sounds. He needs company, now that he’s growing up. It’s time you gave him a little brother or sister and stopped running around with those women across the street.”

“He’s only a year old,” I said.

“That’s right. Eighteen months between babies is ideal, that’s what they always used to say, and you’re already running a bit late on that.”

I almost asked why she was giving me advice on going forth and being fruitful when she had only managed to produce one child herself. But I remembered Daniel had said it was a sore subject for her, and she didn’t like to talk about it.

“Your friends across the street,” she said, following me into the bedroom and peering out of the window. “No doubt they are still into championing votes for women and that kind of thing.”

“Yes, they are,” I replied.

She sniffed, then gave me a long hard stare. “I’m wondering if your friendship with them may not be the best thing for your husband’s career.”

“What on earth has our friendship got to do with Daniel?” I demanded.

“If he were to run for office some day, such a friendship could well be held against him.”