The Edge of Dreams (18 page)

“Oh, it was no trouble,” she said as she put the tray down on the low table.

“Won’t you come and join us?” I asked.

“No, thank you, dear. I’ve the lunch to prepare and I want young Bridie to keep up with her lessons. I’ve set her some arithmetic to do. She’s not too keen on long division.”

“We’d be happy to help with Bridie’s lessons, wouldn’t we, Sid?” Gus asked.

“No, thank you kindly. I’d rather do it myself,” My mother-in-law said quickly. And she made a hasty retreat. Sid and Gus looked at each other and started to laugh.

“Obviously we’d be a corrupting influence on young Bridie,” Sid muttered. She looked around. “So where is the divine Liam today?”

“Just went down for his morning nap,” I said. “He’s been playing so hard with Bridie that for once he was exhausted. Otherwise he resists naps these days.”

“We were considering going back to see Mabel Hamilton today,” Gus said, “and we wondered if you wanted to come with us. But, given the circumstances, you’d better not go anywhere today. We’ll have to report back to you.”

“Do you think Mabel will want to see you again so soon?” I asked. “She became so agitated yesterday. Will she be prepared to discuss her dreams this time?”

“Maybe not,” Gus said. “But she might have dreamed again last night and written it down. I also wanted to pursue what she said about sleepwalking. That might be significant.”

Sid looked at me as she put down her coffee cup. “Yesterday you started to ask her something about sleepwalking, Molly. What were you going to say?”

“I was about to suggest that she might have gone into her parents’ room and knocked over a lamp in her sleep, or even tried to light the gas, and, being asleep, when something went wrong and flames shot up, she’d gotten out down the fire escape without waking.” Then I shook my head. “But that’s not possible, is it? She’d wake if she saw flames.”

“I suppose it might be possible,” Gus said. “If she is prone to episodes of deep sleepwalking. I gather such sufferers can do amazing things without waking. But that still doesn’t explain why her parents didn’t leap up immediately once they were conscious of the flames.”

“I thought of that too,” I said. “And also, I didn’t want to lay an additional burden on Mabel by suggesting she might have caused the fire in her sleep. But I’m as curious as you are about why the parents didn’t escape. Something must have prevented them. And if they were found in their beds, it really does suggest that someone had drugged them or even killed them first.”

Gus sighed. “So you are really in agreement with that beastly detective, and believe that Mabel killed her parents and then started the fire to cover up her deed?”

“Not necessarily,” I said. “We have to examine the possibility that somebody else killed her parents.”

“But there were only two maids and a cook in the house, and one of them also was killed in the fire. The other two were burned.”

“Then we have to consider an intruder,” I said. “Daniel says he’ll try to suggest that the bodies should be exhumed and an autopsy take place. But you could do something for me if you go to see Mabel today—you could find out her father’s profession. Whether he had any known enemies, or feuds within the family. Ask tactfully, please, but we need to know whether Mrs. Hamilton suspects that someone had a reason to see Mabel’s parents dead.”

Sid looked up excitedly as she put down her coffee cup. “So what you are suggesting is that Mabel might have witnessed her parents’ murder. And what she saw was so horrible that she has shut the memories of it deep inside her head?”

“I am considering that it could be a possibility,” I said.

“The snake.” Sid looked at Gus. “Is it possible she really did see a snake? Someone brought a poisonous snake into the room and induced it to bite both parents?”

“How horrible.” Gus shivered. “Can snakes be trained to bite on command? Wouldn’t the parents have woken and cried out if a great snake had struck at them?”

“If someone else was in the room,” I began, trying to picture the scene, “he could have repositioned their bodies in their beds before he set the room on fire.”

“But that leaves another question,” Sid said. “If Mabel saw this, why didn’t he kill her too?”

“He didn’t see her,” Gus suggested. “She tiptoed away and escaped down the fire escape. Perhaps she feigned sleep so he wouldn’t harm her. Perhaps she really passed out with terror.”

I looked at Gus and nodded. “That sounds possible,” I said. “And I had another idea. I wonder if anybody ever questioned the firemen. Did they see anybody running away? Or anything else they thought of as unusual?”

“When firemen are summoned to a fire, Molly, their one thought is to put it out,” Sid said. “They don’t automatically play detective like you. If someone was hiding in the bushes or walking away casually down the street, or even standing there watching the flames, they’d never have noticed.”

“You’re probably right.” I sighed. “But all the same, I think I’ll go and talk to them. Just in case.”

Sixteen

I thought about taking a walk to the fire station, or even seeing if I felt up to taking Bridie to see her relatives, but my mother-in-law was adamant that I should not move all day. I was fed my lunch and sent back to bed. Sid and Gus returned later that afternoon, just as I was waking from a nap. I heard thunderous knocking on the front door, then Sid’s voice and my mother-in-law saying in a firm and disapproving voice, “She’s asleep. I’m afraid you’ll have to come back later.”

I tried to sit up and get out of bed rapidly, but these were things that still could not be done in a hurry without a good deal of pain. I had just swung my legs over the side of the bed when I heard the front door close again and watched Sid and Gus crossing Patchin Place to their own front door. Although I was dying of curiosity, I forced myself to wash my face and tidy my hair before I went downstairs.

“I suppose that knocking at the front door woke you?” Mrs. Sullivan said. “It was those two ladies from across the street pestering you again. You’d think they’d nothing better to do than come bothering you all day.”

“But they were coming to report on a visit they had just made,” I said. “I asked them to. And they don’t bother me. I welcome their company.”

“If you say so.” Mrs. Sullivan sniffed. “Are we expecting your man home tonight at a reasonable hour?”

I smiled. “You were married to a policeman. You know that one can never expect him home at any hour. One is grateful when he arrives.”

“That’s the truth,” she said. “Many’s the night I’ve paced up and down the hallway, listening for the sound of his footsteps. Why Daniel had to follow his father into such a dangerous profession I’ll never know. We sent him to Columbia for that very reason—so that he could become a lawyer or something equally safe and respectable. But no, he couldn’t wait to graduate and join his father in the police force.”

“A man has to do what he loves and what he has a talent for,” I said, and in my head I asked:
Why couldn’t a woman likewise do what she loved and had a talent for
? Why did we all have to accept that our lot was to be wives and mothers and to want nothing more? And it crossed my mind again that my nightmare might have something to do with being trapped in domesticity.

“Where is Liam?” I asked. And before she could answer, Liam came tottering out from the kitchen. He had a jammy mouth, and I suspected that his grandmother had been baking jam tarts.

“Mama.” He gave me a beaming smile.

“Well, look at you, my precious,” I said. “Aren’t you having a good time? You’ve Bridie to play with and Grandma to make you good things to eat.”

“Did you finish that tart then?” Mrs. Sullivan asked. “You’re not having another one now. It will spoil your supper. Come on, let’s clean up your face before you wipe it off on your mother’s nice dress.”

She swept him off to the kitchen. I followed.

“There is tea in the pot,” she said. “And the tarts are fresh from the oven.”

“You’re spoiling us. You really shouldn’t go to all this trouble.” I reached across to take a tart.

“It’s no trouble. It’s good to have someone to look after.” She wiped a protesting Liam’s face, then set him down.

“I thought we might have a small celebration for Liam’s birthday tomorrow,” I said. “Seeing that it’s Sunday and there is a slight chance that Daniel might have the afternoon free.”

“I’ll bake him a cake then.” She looked quite pleased. “And some little sandwiches, do you think?”

“And Sid and Gus said they’d bring some food over with them.”

“Oh, so they are coming too.” She gave me a cold stare.

“Of course. They are Liam’s aunties. They’ve been very good to us.”

She sniffed. “If you say so.” She turned to go back to the kitchen table, then looked back at me. “Oh, and what Mass do you go to tomorrow?”

Oh, Lord. I had forgotten that Sunday for her meant attendance at Mass. She never missed, like the good Catholic that she was.

“It’s seven thirty at St. Joseph’s on the square, I believe,” I said. “But if you don’t mind, I’ll not join you this time. It takes me a while to get ready at the moment and all that kneeling and standing is a bit much for me.”

“Of course,” she said. “Bridie and I will go. And Daniel too, if he’s home.”

“I think I’ll pay a visit across the street before suppertime,” I said, “And I’ll take Liam with me. His aunties love to see him and they were asking after him earlier.”

“Just as you wish.” Her face had become a stony mask. “If you really think it’s wise and you are up to it.”

“It’s only a few yards across the street,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll be just grand.” I turned to Liam. “Shall we go and see Auntie Sid and Gus?” I asked, and he set off instantly with determined steps for the front door before I’d finished the sentence. I picked him up and we crossed the street.

Gus looked delighted as she opened the front door. “Well, here you are,” she said. “We thought you were to be kept away from us for the rest of the day. And you’ve brought our favorite man too. Molly’s here, Sid,” she called. “And our favorite young man too.”

She took Liam from me and carried him down the hall at a great rate into the kitchen, where Sid was stirring something mysterious over the stove.

“It’s couscous,” Gus said as I peered at the pot. “We’re having a Moroccan evening. We might even belly dance later. You’re welcome to join us.”

“Well, I won’t want to join you in the belly dancing,” I replied with a wry smile. “It still hurts me to stand up straight, let alone wiggle my middle.”

“Oh, you poor thing. Of course. Sit down. I’ll get you a pillow,” Gus said. “Or would you be more comfortable in one of the armchairs in the sitting room?”

“No, I’m just fine here.” I sat on one of the straight-backed kitchen chairs. “I do better sitting upright.”

“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?”