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

“You heard we were turned away from your house earlier?” Sid asked.

“I heard the knocking and then my mother-in-law’s voice,” I said. “But it takes me so long to get up at the moment that you’d gone again by the time I could come down the stairs. But I’m dying of curiosity, so wild horses wouldn’t keep me away. So, did you go to see Mabel? Did you learn anything?”

Gus put some pots and pans on the floor for Liam to play with, then came to sit beside me. “We learned lots.”

“Did you ask about her father’s profession?” I asked.

“We did. And he was a senior clerk in his father-in-law’s bank. He had hoped to be made a partner when he married Susan, but that never happened. But he was described as the sort of man who got along with everybody and didn’t make enemies.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound promising, does it?” I said. “Nobody can have a grudge against a bank clerk. And apparently no family feud?”

“We had to ask that rather cautiously,” Sid said, “because after all, Mrs. Hamilton is family. But she insisted that he was a likable sort, welcome at family gatherings, and that his father-in-law had finally come around to accepting him. There was even talk that he might be promoted to better things.”

“So Mrs. Hamilton couldn’t come up with anyone who might have done this foul thing?”

“She was quite annoyed that we even suggested it,” Sid said. “We pointed out that you had asked the question, and you were used to dealing with criminal cases.”

“But I’ll tell you one thing, Molly,” Gus said. “Mabel had another dream last night. Her aunt said she was whimpering and cowering in the corner when she found her. But she did write it down when she woke up.”

“Was it the snake again?”

“It was. But this time she said the snake grew white hands. And the hands had long, pointed fingernails. And they were really sharp. And she held her breath and the snake didn’t see her this time.”

“How horrible,” I said. “What can that mean—the snake growing fingers?”

“I don’t know,” Gus said. “I feel hopelessly out of my depth with this, Molly. It’s all very well to have been taught that when we dream of being naked we’re feeling vulnerable. That makes sense. But a snake that grows hands with long fingernails? I have no idea where to start. I do hope we get a letter back from Professor Freud soon and he can make some recommendation for us. This girl clearly needs help badly, and I’m afraid I can’t give it to her.”

Sid came over to join us. “I suggested to Gus that the snake might be Mabel’s own evil side—intentions and impulses she can’t control. Perhaps the hands were her hands, reaching out to do something terrible.”

“Holy Mother of God,” I muttered. “I just pray you aren’t right there, Sid.”

“This is where my smattering of alienist training is now revealed as hopelessly inadequate,” Gus said. “I’m thinking of approaching the school of medicine at the university and seeing if they now teach the diseases of the mind.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “There is always Dr. Birnbaum. Did you ever meet him? I don’t think so. He’s also an alienist who trained with Freud in Vienna, but he’s been in America for several years now.”

“So he won’t have been involved in the study of dreams,” Gus said. “All of that research is quite recent.”

“But he is a proper alienist,” Sid said. “That’s something. How do you know him, Molly?”

“He was called in to treat a woman when I was staying at a mansion on the Hudson once,” I said. “I’ve asked him for help several times since then. But I haven’t been in contact with him for two years now. He’s often out of the city, lecturing around the States. Would you like me to see if he’s here at the moment?”

Sid looked at Gus. “It can’t do any harm, can it? You said you needed a trained alienist.”

“I suppose so,” Gus agreed. I could tell she was torn. She really wanted to prove that she had the ability to solve this case, while her sensible side told her that she didn’t. Then she nodded firmly. “Yes, that might be a good thing to do, Molly. A real alienist will know what should be done with Mabel, even if he can’t interpret her dreams.”

“And he may well have been reading up on Freud’s latest research,” Sid said. “The professor has published a book on the subject, hasn’t he? So your Dr. Birnbaum might even have developed an interest in dream psychology himself. Yes, I definitely think we should contact him, Molly. Should we write him a letter, do you think?”

“He lives close by,” I said. “Or he did when I last visited him. Would you like me to go and set the stage for you?”