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

“You can’t help wanting to stick your nose into any criminal case.” He laughed. “You are still not prepared to stop being a detective. I know you too well, Molly Murphy.”


“I only want to see justice done,” I said. I smoothed down the covers and turned to look at Daniel. “And speaking of criminal cases,” I went on, “have you started making a list of your own cases—ones that ended with the death penalty and might have made your note writer seek revenge against you?”

“I have started, yes, but frankly I don’t see where it’s going to help. Most of the cases I’ve come up with were clear-cut. A man killed his wife with an ax. Found with blood all over his clothes, even admitted his guilt. That sort of thing.” He sat up in bed, propping a pillow behind his head. “But I’ve been giving some thought to what you said about some of the murders being random, to hide the real one for which the killer had a motive. That might make sense, Molly.”

“It might well,” I agreed. “That first victim, the simple old woman. He could have seen her and decided that she was of no use to society, and therefore her death wouldn’t matter. If he was testing himself, trying out how easy it was to kill someone, then she’d have been a likely target. She was too simple to know she was being followed, and probably not as aware as other people of the approaching streetcar.”

“So you’re saying that he killed her simply to see how easy it is to kill someone?”

I nodded. “And the second murder might have been for the same reason. How easy was it to walk through a crowded student café, and drop cyanide into a coffee cup without anyone noticing?”

“But then your system breaks down,” Daniel said. “The murders after that are no longer opportunistic, or in public places. He had to gain access to private homes. He poisoned. He even entered a bathroom where a woman was taking a bath. Surely her screams must have been heard? And what about the man in the meat safe? Wouldn’t it have taken brute strength to force him in and lock the door? If only one of those killings has a clear motive, then why are the others so unnecessarily complicated? Why flirt with failure like that? Servants could have apprehended him in the judge’s house. The woman’s screams could have been heard when a man entered her bathroom. And he might not have been strong enough to force the butcher into the meat safe.”

I sat up now too and wagged an excited finger at him. “I’ve just heard one word that might make sense of this. Judge. I asked you about your trials that led to execution or death. What if he’s also taking his revenge against a judge? You can narrow down your search, Daniel. Have you ever brought someone to trial who was then sentenced by that particular judge?”

“I believe I have, but it would have been early in my career. He’s almost eighty. He retired from the bench some time ago. Let me think about it.…” He paused, frowning. At the end of our quiet little street, I heard the bells of a fire truck as it left the Jefferson Market fire station. In the city, there was a constant reminder that danger was never far away.

Daniel shook his head as he reached to turn down the gaslight. “I do remember a couple of trials, but neither one resulted in the death penalty. And I also remember that this particular judge was known to be soft. A kind-hearted old man who would avoid sentencing someone to death if he could.”

We both lay back against the pillows.

“We don’t seem to be getting anywhere, do we?” Daniel said. “And there is still the threat of his last note—he still wants to kill one more time.” He turned to me and kissed me gently. “But it’s not your worry, Molly. Go to sleep, and sweet dreams.”

But I didn’t have sweet dreams. Instead I was in that dark, confined space again, lying there unable to move, listening to the drip of water and a strange rumbling. And I knew I had to get out before it was too late.





Fifteen

The next morning I awoke with a headache. Daniel’s mother appeared at my door with a cup of tea.

“Daniel said you had a bad night, moaning in your sleep,” she said. “He told me to tell you to stay home and rest. You could be suffering from delayed concussion after your accident, you know. And shock. One can’t be too careful with these things.”