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

“And I’ve asked Sid and Gus to warn Mrs. Hamilton to take good care of Mabel,” I said. “You never know—he may not have realized he was seen when he killed her parents, and he may now decide to get rid of her too.”


“Possibly.” Daniel nodded. “In which case you should be extra vigilant too, my darling. We still don’t know whether that train crash was designed to finish you off, and he might be annoyed you are still running around.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. “I sat in his parlor twice. I drank his coffee.”

Daniel shook his head as if he found me hard to believe. “One of these days you’ll come to a sticky end,” he said. “You have to learn to be careful. Or better still, you have to learn to act like a mother and wife, and not like an investigator.”

“I didn’t have any idea that Terrence Daughtery might himself be involved when I went to visit him,” I said. “And besides, it was my investigation that finally put the pieces together for you in a case that has been stalled for months.”

“I suppose I have to agree with that,” he said, “but I’m only concerned with keeping you safe. I don’t want to lose you.”

I came over and wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his bare flesh against my fine cotton nightgown, and I felt a desire I hadn’t known for weeks shoot through me. Daniel felt it too and his lips came hard against mine. “Will those ribs of yours mind too much if we take this a little further?” he whispered, breathing heavily as he lowered me onto the bed.

“I think we’ll risk it and see,” I whispered back.

*

Much later, when I was lying against Daniel’s shoulder and we were both drifting off into satisfied sleep, a thought came to me.

“Daniel? Are you asleep?”

He grunted.

“Something’s just struck me. Where do Dr. Grossman and the butcher who was locked in his meat safe come into this?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” he answered. “I believe Dr. Grossman was the expert witness who testified at the trial as to Edward Deveraux’s mental state and urged for a verdict of insanity.”

“But the butcher? Did he supply meat to the Deveraux family? Or the cleaver with which Edward’s father was killed?”

Daniel sighed. “And here I was, drifting into a delightful sleep,” he grunted. “The butcher. Good question. The information we have on him says that he only came to the city recently from somewhere upstate. I’ll have to look into that tomorrow. But the father wasn’t killed with a cleaver. He was hit over the head with a blunt object—from behind, mark you. Just the sort of thing a sneaky person like Edward would do.” He pulled me closer to him. “Now, for heaven’s sake, go to sleep. We’ll know more in the morning.”





Thirty

The next morning I awoke to sunlight streaming in. I could hear Daniel humming to himself as he shaved in the bathroom. Today is the day, I thought. We’re going to solve everything. Daniel’s going to be a hero at the police department, and all will be well.

I dressed and went downstairs to make him coffee and fry him eggs, for once beating his mother to it. She nodded with approval when she came into the kitchen. “That’s more like it,” she said. “Acting like a good wife for once, not rushing all over the place and putting yourself in harm’s way.”

I smiled sweetly and didn’t answer. Clearly I was becoming more circumspect with age. After we had breakfasted and fed and bathed Liam, I decided we should go for a walk. Liam had been cooped up for a couple of days and needed fresh air, and truly it was too nice a day to stay inside. We strapped him into the buggy and off we went, Bridie trotting beside me like an obedient puppy. It felt as if the city had been spring-cleaned after the rain—everything sparkled and the sky was a clear blue arc as if made of spun glass. Sparrows fluttered, twittering around puddles. A carriage, going past at full speed, sent up a curtain of muddy spray that just missed us.

We went into Washington Square, still unpopulated at this hour apart from an old gardener attempting to rake up soggy leaves.

“Where are we going?” Bridie asked.

“Just for a walk,” I said. “I’m afraid the swings are still too wet to swing on.”

“I’m getting too old for things like that,” she said. “I’m a proper mother’s helper now, aren’t I?”

I put my arm around her. “Oh, sweetheart, we’re not keeping you here with us to be a mother’s helper,” I said. “Although you’ve certainly got a way with Liam, and I do appreciate the help. But we want you to enjoy your childhood while you can. It won’t be long before you’re a young lady. So anytime you feel like swinging on the swings, you do it.”

She smiled, half embarrassed.