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

“She may have regretted it instantly, but it was too late to stop it,” Daniel said. “Young people act so much on impulse. I know I did. Didn’t you?”


I smiled. “I didn’t have much chance to act on impulse in a cottage in Ireland. We were miles from anywhere, and there was nothing worth doing anyway, apart from letting a boy walk me part of the way home from a dance. Besides, by Mabel’s age I had a father and three young brothers to take care of, and that was a full-time job.”

He nodded with understanding. “Anyway, thank God this girl is not your problem,” he added. “And let’s hope that Gus Walcott is sensible enough to know her own limitations.”

“I told you she has admitted the case is beyond her scope and is seeking out an alienist who might have studied the interpretation of dreams. We’ve been recommended a Dr. Otto Werner from Munich who is highly regarded and was known to be in New York earlier this year.”

Daniel stroked his chin. “Otto Werner. That name rings a bell. I’ve come across it recently. He might have testified as an expert witness on some court case I attended.”

“You wouldn’t know where to find him, would you?”

“If he did appear in court, his address would be in the records somewhere. I’ll ask one of the clerks to look it up for you.”

“Thank you. That would be grand. We need something to start going right, don’t we?”

He nodded, staring out past me, through the window at the darkened street. “Although you should realize that bringing in an expert to treat your young girl might not help her cause, Molly.” He turned back to me and held my gaze. “He might be able to prove that she did kill her parents. He might return her to sanity and bring back the full memory of what happened. There are many possible outcomes, not all of them good.”

“I know that. But it’s a risk that has to be taken. Didn’t you yourself say that it’s better to know the truth than to not know?”

“I did.” He got up and walked across to the window, pulled back the lace curtain, and stared out—something I noticed he had done several times since we’d moved back to the house. And I realized that he would never feel completely safe here again, never feel that he could protect his family after what had happened to us.

I went over to him, and ran my hand down his stubbly cheek. “It will be all right, Daniel. We will be all right. Don’t worry.”

He sighed and let me lead him away.

“There is one thing that crossed my mind,” I said tentatively. “The fire was at the beginning of August. Could it possibly be your missing murder?”

“You’re saying the fire was started by an intruder? Isn’t that just grasping at straws to get your girl off the hook? I know you want to think she’s innocent, but…”

“Hold your horses there, Daniel Sullivan.” I put a warning hand on his lapel. “I’m just saying it’s a remarkable coincidence that it fits into your killer’s pattern. It’s something we should consider.”

“I’d need some sort of evidence before I considered it,” he said. “Where was the note? He is a creature of habit, after all.”

“Maybe it got lost in the mail, or it was given to a small boy who failed to deliver it,” I suggested.

“Maybe.” He sighed again. “I wish I could find just one morsel of truth in the case of my note writer. Four months, and I am none the wiser.”

“I’ll start visiting the victims’ relatives tomorrow,” I said. “Maybe something will come to light. And Nuala’s sons may actually find the boy who delivered the notes. We may get a description of your killer.”

Again he stared out past me, as if he was trying to see something in the darkness—maybe that figurative light at the end of the tunnel. “At this moment I’m feeling pretty low. Even if we catch him, he’s such a cunning devil that we’d have a tough time pinning any of the crimes on him.”

“He’ll make one mistake in the end,” I said. “They always do. You’ve always said that yourself, haven’t you? He’s so cocky that he won’t be as careful. Like using an urchin to deliver his note. We’ll find the right boy and get a good description.”

Daniel looked at my face and managed a weak smile. “I’m glad you’re so optimistic, Molly. You need optimism for both of us at this moment.”

I didn’t tell him that I was no more optimistic than he, but just clinging to shreds of hope that some good would come from my own plans.

*

The next morning I awoke early, resolved to tackle the first names on Daniel’s list of victims’ relatives that day. On the trolley over the Brooklyn Bridge, I tried to come up with a good reason to give for my visit, one that wouldn’t link me to Daniel. I decided I was working for a ladies’ magazine, doing an article on the dangers of electric trolleys. I alighted from just such a vehicle, and watched a large lady with a shopping basket over her arm have to sprint across the street as the trolley I had been riding took off again, ringing its bell furiously.