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

“You realize you’re coming up with a scenario that makes her look guilty,” Daniel said. “If we find out from the servants that either parent took sleeping powders, and we determine that there were cups near the bed, then I’m afraid Yeats will have your young lady locked up and prosecuted.”


“Oh, dear,” I said. “I just hope that Sid and Gus can find this Dr. Werner soon, and he can help unlock the girl’s dreams. My heart tells me she is innocent, Daniel. I’m sure there is more to this than we are seeing right now.”

I lay awake that night, weighing the events of the day—poor little Mabel and whether I believed her capable of killing her parents, and Miss Willis, grieving for a simpleminded sister. Who might have sneaked up behind an elderly woman and shoved her in front of a trolley? I wondered. But I couldn’t come up with any answers. I could have concluded that Dolly would have inherited her sister’s legacy some day and someone else wanted to inherit, except that the note writer had gone on to murder a strange variety of other people. I toyed with the idea that someone thought he was doing Miss Willis a favor, ridding her of a mentally incompetent sister. But one would only have to have witnessed her grief-stricken face to know that she loved Dolly and missed her.

Although I didn’t say anything to Daniel, I found that the journey to Brooklyn had taken its toll on me. My side ached. My head ached. And when I finally drifted off to sleep, I went straight back to that dream. The narrow dark room. The sound of rumbling that shook every fiber of my body, and the terror that I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Daniel shook me awake. “You were moaning in your sleep again,” he said.

“It was that same dream. Trapped in the narrow room and the horrible rumbling.”

“You’re trying to do too much, Molly. We should have listened to my mother and let her take care of you while you recover. No more rushing all over town. It’s not going to get us anywhere. My men and I have already asked every question you asked.” He wrapped a protective arm around me. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered. “I’m here. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

*

The next morning I had wanted to go visit Simon Grossman’s family, and then Mrs. Daughtery’s son, but my head still ached slightly and I had to admit, reluctantly, that Daniel and his mother were right. I still needed time to heal. And there was probably nothing they could reveal that had not already been revealed to the police. I was sitting on the sofa, watching Bridie teaching Liam how to operate his new toy monkey, when there was a tap at the front door. Bridie went to answer it and I heard Sid’s voice asking if I was home.

“Show them in, Bridie,” I called, and Sid and Gus came into the parlor, their faces alight with excitement.

“We’ve found him, Molly,” Gus exclaimed, perching on the sofa beside me. “We’ve located Dr. Werner. You were right when you suggested the German consulate. We went to see the consul. At first he was sure that Dr. Werner had gone home earlier this year. He said that Dr. Werner had not attended a soiree for the ambassador, who was a friend of his, so he concluded he was no longer in New York. But then he added that he was much in demand as a speaker and could well have been visiting another American city. So he gave us the last address he had for the doctor. It was not far from here as you had suggested—on Ninth Street close to Astor Place. We went there and nobody was home, but a neighbor confirmed that she had seen the doctor coming and going recently—always in a hurry, she said. A busy man and a little curt in his ways. Never wanting to pass the time of day with more than a nod and a ‘Good morning.’”

“So we wrote him a letter,” Sid continued. “We explained the situation and Gus mentioned her own experience studying with Professor Freud and how his colleagues had spoken highly of him, and we asked him to call on us at his earliest convenience.”

“Well, that’s good news,” I said. “I have been worrying about Mabel.” I glanced at Bridie, who was sitting on the carpet with Liam again, but all ears. “Bridie, would you please go and ask Mrs. Sullivan if she would be kind enough to put the coffeepot on for us? I’m sure these two ladies have enough time to stay for a cup of coffee.”

Bridie got up and nodded before running down the hall.

“She’s such a sweet girl,” I said. “And so good with Liam.” I waited until I heard her high little voice in the kitchen before I continued softly. “They have had the bodies of Mabel’s parents exhumed, and it appears that they were somehow drugged before their room was set on fire. They were laid out as if for burial.”

“How awful,” Gus said. “Surely they can’t think that Mabel…”