The Edge of Dreams (23 page)

“Yes, Mah,” he said. He smiled shyly at Bridie. He was probably a year older than her but hardly any taller. As fat as his mother was, he looked as if he never got a good meal.

“This is your cousin Bridie come to visit,” I said. “And you remember me? Molly? I stayed with you once, and then you came and stayed with me.”

“I know,” he said. “Hello, Bridie. It’s grand to see you looking so fine.”

“Thank you, Thomas.” She looked down, suddenly shy too.

“Thomas,” Nuala said. “This lady might have an errand for you.”

“That’s right, Thomas,” I said. “I need you to find a boy for me. This boy delivered a message to police headquarters on Mulberry Street.”

“Is he in trouble?” Thomas asked, frowning.

“Not at all. He did nothing wrong. It’s just that the man who gave him the note to deliver might have done something wrong, and we have to find him before he can hurt more people. It’s no use if grown-ups ask questions, because the boys won’t rat on each other. But you can tell the boy that the police won’t question him. They’ll leave him alone. We just need a description of the man who paid him … and paid him well, I suspect.” I paused, then, taking a risk, I said, “Whatever the man paid him, I’ll pay you.”

“Is that a fact?” Thomas’s face lit up. “All right. I’ll do it. Tell me all about it.”

I told him everything I knew, leaving out the fact that this man had murdered a whole list of people. No sense in scaring him. Thomas told me his brother could help him put the fear of God into the boys and get them to fess up. This wasn’t what I’d had in mind, but I saw it could be useful. Nobody willingly crossed someone connected to the Eastmans.

As Bridie and I made our way down the stairs and took in a breath of good sea air, we both gave a sigh of relief.

“I don’t think you wanted me to visit my relatives at all,” Bridie commented as we made our way back along Fulton Street to the El station. “I think you wanted the boys to do that job for you, and you needed an excuse to visit them.”

I looked down at her sweetly innocent face and smiled. “You are becoming too sharp for your years, young lady.”

We walked on. “I wish I could live with you, Molly,” she said. “I don’t remember my real mother very well. I know she was kind and gentle and had a soft voice, but I don’t really remember her. So you’re the only mother I’ve got.”

Before I could answer she went on, “I know that I should keep on with Mrs. Sullivan, because she’s been so good to me and she’s lonely up there, all alone.”

I wanted to tell her the plans in store for her, but as I hadn’t discussed the matter with Daniel yet, I had to stay silent. “You know I’d love to have you here with me, anytime,” I said, “but you’re right. Mrs. Sullivan has been good to you. Your father wanted us to find you a place as a maid, you know. Mrs. Sullivan took you in, started to train you for domestic service, and then became fond of you. Now you’re turning into a young lady.”

“I know,” she said. “I’ve been very lucky.” There was a long silence, and then she said, “You know sometimes I have bad thoughts.”

“Bad thoughts? You?”

She nodded. “Sometimes I hope that my father won’t come back, because I don’t want to go back to living how we did, with Cousin Nuala. Then I’d really have to be a servant, wouldn’t I?”

I looked down at her worried little face. “I don’t think we’d let you go back to living with Nuala now,” I said. “Even if your father returns soon, he won’t want to be bothered with a young girl. He’ll be happy someone else is taking care of her welfare.”

I saw her face light up. “You think so?”

“What would Seamus know about raising a young woman?” I said.

“I don’t think Cousin Nuala knows much about it either,” she added with a grin.

Twenty

We had only just arrived home when Sid and Gus called to say they were starting their search for Dr. Werner and asked if I wanted to go with them, but I refused this time. Frankly, I was exhausted by that simple little jaunt to Nuala’s. And I’d have been no use, having no experience of universities or medical schools.

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?”

“What you suggested. Trying to remember any cases in which I was instrumental in bringing about a death penalty. I really can’t think of any that fit the bill, though.”

“Maybe it wasn’t even the death penalty. If you had someone shut away for life, that could be considered similar to a living death, couldn’t it? A loved one could blame you for taking away a brother or father.” Then I tapped him excitedly on the arm. “Or, better yet. You’ve been a policeman for fifteen years. What if you had someone convicted for life, or a long sentence, but it was commuted for good behavior, and the man is now finally free? Maybe he’s a quiet and brooding sort, and all these years he’s been plotting revenge against you.”

Daniel licked his lips. “You might have something there, Molly. It’s worth looking into anyway. I’ll have my sergeant get in touch with Sing Sing and find out who might have been released recently. Then we can see if any of them ring a bell.” He gave me a weak smile. “Well, that’s something to go on, isn’t it?”

I decided to pluck up my courage and maybe get my head bitten off. “Daniel, I know you haven’t wanted me to get involved in any of your police work in the past,” I said. “But you said yourself that you are stumped. I’m wondering how you would feel if I did a little poking around myself. I thought I could visit the next of kin of the murder victims.”

He held up his hand. “Oh, no, Molly. I’m sure you mean well and want to help, but I’d never hear the last of it if word got back to the commissioner that I was so desperate I’d had to use my wife.”

“Hold your horses a moment,” I said. “The people I interview need not know who I am. I could find some pretext, so they wouldn’t know I was your wife.”

“What sort of pretext?” he asked, still suspicious.

“It would be different for each one, wouldn’t it? I’d be a newspaper reporter, doing a piece on the dangers of trolley cars in Brooklyn. I could easily pass as a female student who was a friend of Simon Grossman. I’ll think of others as I go.”

“But what would be the point, Molly? Do you think that I and my men haven’t asked every conceivable question? Haven’t looked into their backgrounds, their connections thoroughly?”

“I’m sure you have,” I said. “But I’m a woman and a civilian and therefore not a threat. Women chat to other women. I could talk to the servants in the richer houses. There may be things that haven’t come out yet, or things that nobody would want to tell to the police. And maybe it would just take one small detail…”

“In case you’ve forgotten, you’re in no condition to go running all over the city,” he said. I could tell that he was torn. He didn’t want me getting involved. His pride was railing against it, as well as his caution at putting me into possible danger.

I decided to add my trump card. “In case
you’ve
forgotten, Daniel Sullivan, I am already involved in this. You believe that the killer might have had me in mind when he derailed that train, don’t you?”

“
If
he derailed the train. We’re still not quite able to believe it, and we’ve still no proof to hint that it wasn’t simply human error.”

“But if he did, then I’m already involved. If he’s scheming to get at me, then I want to get him first, don’t you understand?”

He drummed his fingers on his desktop. “But I want you to take time to heal, Molly. Not tax yourself at the moment.”

“I know that. But time is of the essence here, isn’t it? We’re racing against the clock and against another possible murder.”

There was a long silence. Then he said, “You’re a good detective, Molly. I’ve never said that you weren’t. But this is a tremendous risk … my career…”

“You yourself just said that your career might be in jeopardy if you can’t solve this case. So what have you got to lose?”

He sighed. “You’re right. What have I got to lose at this stage?”

“So I have your blessing? You know I don’t like going behind your back.”

“I’ve noticed,” he said with a grin. Then he reached out and took my hand, pulling me closer to him. “You have my blessing. But if anyone finds out what you’ve been doing, I shall deny all knowledge of it. Oh, and, Molly, nothing stupid or risky, understand? You can ask questions, but no climbing in through windows, or any other reckless behavior.”

I put on my most demure smile. “Daniel Sullivan—when have I ever engaged in reckless behavior?”

“I could name about a hundred occasions,” he said, “but I hope you’ll remember that you’re older and wiser now, and you have a husband and child to consider.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll be the soul of decorum.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” he said.

Twenty-one

The next day I meant to begin my own investigation, visiting the victims’ relatives, but when I got up and dressed I realized I just didn’t feel up to facing more public transportation and crossing the bridge to Brooklyn. Daniel went off to work early in the morning and came back at night tired, frustrated, and with little to report. They had been through a list of long-term prisoners who had recently been released from Sing Sing, as well as prisoners who had died in custody, and none of them had been cases that Daniel had investigated. Back to square one.

Sid and Gus came over to report on their search for Dr. Otto Werner—so far without success. Gus said that she had been met with patronization bordering on rudeness from professors at the university medical school. One thought the whole branch of psychiatry had no medical basis or future. Another had no time for women outside the kitchen (or presumably the bedroom, Sid had added). And none of them had met Dr. Otto Werner.