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

So I stayed home, waiting and worrying. Maybe it would all go smoothly, I thought. The commissioner couldn’t expect Daniel to work miracles. But it seemed I was wrong. Daniel came home in a foul mood, just as we were finishing our supper.

“Another long session with the commissioner,” he said as he strode toward us down the hall, the sound of his heavy tread echoing up from the stairwell and the newly painted walls. “He wants to know why I haven’t caught this guy yet, and how much longer he is expected to sanction having men stationed around the city watching prominent people and landmarks and generally being on high alert. It’s costing too much in overtime hours, and he wants results.” Daniel stomped through to the kitchen, sat, and began to unlace his boots. “He asked me if this man is finished with his killing spree or planning to strike again. As if I know. Does he think I’m a seer or a fortune-teller? How can anyone know the man’s mind, if we don’t know whom we’re dealing with?”

He kicked off one boot and it fell with a clatter. “I could tell him nothing. I felt like a fool. Then I made the mistake of telling him that the only link we can find between the murders is that the notes were all addressed to me.” The other boot joined its mate on the floor. “He didn’t like that at all. Thought I was making too much of myself. To him I’m one of a hundred policemen. The killer could have picked my name at random—out of a newspaper, maybe.”

He pushed the boots out of the way and drew his chair up to the table. “And then he said he wished the murderer had chosen someone with a few more detecting skills, and we might have the case solved by now. “

“The cheek of it!” I said. “You’re one of their top detectives. Youngest man to be made captain. How dare he?”

“He dares because he’s the commissioner of police and in two years’ time, someone else will be elected to the position.” Daniel rested his elbows on the table and dropped his chin into his hands. “And then comes the kicker. He’s suggesting adding another officer to ‘assist’ me.”

“Well, I suppose it can’t hurt at this stage, can it?” I said. “Two heads are better than one and you can’t be everywhere at once.”

I saw immediately that I’d said the wrong thing. “‘It can’t hurt’?” he demanded. “It damned well can hurt!”

I heard an intake of breath from his mother. “Daniel, such language,” she said. “There are women and children present.”

“Sorry, Mother,” he muttered. “But you must understand my frustration. I’ve been pushed to snapping point over this.” He slapped one fist against the other. “This second officer who is to ‘assist’ me will be the commissioner’s spy, handpicked by him. Everything I do will be reported back instantly. For all I know, someone at the top is looking for a way to shove me aside. And when I am making no progress, how is that going to look?”

“Then tell him you think it’s a great idea to assign another detective to the case, but you’d like to choose someone you can work with,” I suggested.

“One does not tell the commissioner anything. The man enjoys his power. He’s a trumped-up Tammany puppet, and he knows no more about police work than young Bridie here.” He looked from me to his son, who was sitting in his high chair, watching wide-eyed at his father’s outburst. “I tell you, Molly,” Daniel said, “this may be the end of my career if something doesn’t happen soon.”

I got up and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a good detective, Daniel. I’m sure everyone who matters knows that. And you’re dealing with a case that isn’t giving you any tangible leads. In a city this size, if someone wants to carry out random murders, how are you supposed to stop them?”

I heaped a plate with his favorite stew and put it in front of him. “Get that down you. You’ll feel better. I’ll wager you haven’t eaten all day.”

“Probably haven’t. Can’t remember,” he said, already tucking into the steaming plate. “Thanks.”

“Your mother made the stew. You can thank her,” I said. There was so much more I wanted to say, but I wasn’t going to risk it with Mrs. Sullivan sitting across the table. Instead I cleared away our dishes and started to wash up.

It wasn’t until Liam was safely tucked in bed and the dinner was cleaned up that I came into the back parlor to see Daniel sitting at his desk. He looked up and held out a hand to me. “Sorry I was in such a foul mood earlier,” he said.

“With justification,” I said. “I’d have been hopping mad myself if I’d been insulted like that.” I went over and saw he’d been writing names on a sheet of paper. “What are you doing?”