The Edge of Dreams (26 page)

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…”

“It will depend on what kind of drug they find during an autopsy, I suppose. If it was a simple sleeping powder, then I’m afraid the police will think…”

“Don’t.” Gus shivered. “You’ve seen her, Molly. She is so clearly distressed by what happened. She can’t have had anything to do with it. I could believe she knocked over a lamp when she was sleepwalking, but deliberately drugging her parents, laying them out, and then setting fire to them? No. I’ll not believe that of her.”

“I don’t believe it either,” I said. “But I’m being realistic. Lieutenant Yeats is young and keen and wants to make a name for himself with a sensational case.”

“Can’t Daniel intervene?” Sid asked.

I shook my head. “He is so busy with his own case, and besides, he has to tread carefully these days. He is not in favor with the commissioner.”

“Can’t you help him, Molly?” Sid asked.

“I wish I could. I just don’t see what I can do that hasn’t already been done. And I have to admit that I’m not feeling up to par yet. I’m still getting headaches and I had another of my horrible dreams last night.”

Gus wagged an excited finger at me. “We’ll tell Dr. Werner about that too. He might be able to help you as well as Mabel.”

“We don’t want to bother the doctor with my small problems,” I said. “It will be enough if he can help Mabel. I’m sure I’ll feel better as the bump on my head goes away.”

“I hope he will come,” Gus said. “It didn’t sound, from what we’ve heard, that he is the most congenial of men.”

“I would think that his professional curiosity would make him want to see Mabel,” Sid said. “And if he doesn’t come soon, we’ll lurk on Ninth Street and catch him unawares.”

We all laughed at that, and I began to feel a little better about everything.

Twenty-three

As the day progressed I felt a little better. Mrs. Sullivan took Liam and Bridie with her to do the shopping, leaving me with strict instructions that I was to stay put and do nothing. But I couldn’t abide the emptiness of being in the house alone. I decided to see if Sid and Gus were at home. I was crossing the street when I heard the sound of the fire engine in the distance, its bell clanging madly. I stared down Patchin Place, thinking about the fire that killed the Hamiltons and wondering how it might fit in to Daniel’s case. But nothing came to mind beyond the fact that it fit the timeline. It was, as Daniel had said, grasping at straws to save Mabel.

Gus welcomed me, saying they were glad to have something to take their minds off Dr. Werner. They hadn’t been able to settle down enough to do anything all morning. She sent Sid off to make us some Moroccan mint tea, which had currently taken the place of coffee in their household. I had just taken a sip when there was a sharp rap at their front door. Sid went to answer it and we heard her say, “Dr. Werner? How very good of you to come so quickly. Please do come in. We’re just having coffee.” And she led him through to the conservatory, beaming as if she was displaying a prize pet.

“Dr. Otto Werner,” she announced. “May I present Miss Walcott, and Mrs. Sullivan?”

He gave us what only could be described as a supercilious stare, clicking his heels and giving a perfunctory bow to Gus, and then eyeing her with interest before doing the same to me. He was a thin, dark-haired man with a well-trimmed beard and a monocle in one eye, meticulously attired and reminding me in a way of a dark version of Dr. Birnbaum. I made a note to ask Gus whether all German and Austrian doctors paid so much attention to their appearance.

“I come because you request it,” he said in clipped and heavily accented English. “But I must tell you that my time in New York now is at an end. I take the ship home to the fatherland. My task here is complete.”

“Oh, that’s a great pity,” Gus said, “because your help and expertise are desperately needed.”

“There are many doctors in New York, are there not?” he said, giving another curt nod as Sid put a cup of coffee in front of him. “Why is it so important that you seek me out and summon me?”

“Because you are an expert on dream psychology,” Gus said.

He raised an eyebrow then, making the monocle move up and down. “Who is telling you this?”

“As I wrote to you in my note, I studied this year in Vienna with Professor Freud,” Gus said. “Your colleagues mentioned your name several times. They spoke highly of your research.”

“
Ach,
so,” he said. “You have worked with my colleagues in Vienna. This is good. You wish to consult me on a tricky case? I will be glad to give you my opinion.”

“I wish you to see a young girl. A troubled young girl, plagued by terrible nightmares,” Gus said. “I feel certain that unlocking the symbols of her dreams is the only way to help her.”

“Of what does she dream? A recurring symbol?”

“Yes. She says there is always a snake. A giant snake looming over her.”

“
Ach.
This is not so hard,” he said. “She is of what age?”

“Fourteen,” Gus replied.

He nodded. “This is a common dream at the time of female development, no? The snake? The male symbol? She fears being consumed by her own sexuality, and being dominated by a male.”

“I would agree with you, Dr. Werner, except she has been through a traumatic event,” Gus said. “Her house burned down with her parents in it. She was found unharmed in the garden and remembers nothing of that night. But her dreams are full of terror. I am sure something terrible happened that night that she can’t remember.”

“Naturally something terrible happened—a fire that consumes the house and kills her parents. What could be more terrible? And you say that she escapes, unharmed? Well, then I suggest that the snake could represent her guilt. She feels she could have saved them. Have done more. And her guilt consumes her.”

“Oh,” Gus said, considering this. “You may be right. She clearly adored her parents. Perhaps she wanted to help, but was driven back by the fire.”

“Exactly. You see. Not so complicated after all.” He permitted himself a tight-lipped smile.

“But I would still be very grateful if you could spare a minute to visit her,” Gus said. “She lives in the city.”

“I really do not think…” he began. “My ship. It sails in a few days. There is much to do.”

“It seems that everyone is heading home to Germany at the moment,” I said. “Another colleague of yours, Dr. Birnbaum, was also sailing home this week.”

“Birnbaum? I am not acquainted with this name,” he said.

“He also trained in Vienna with Freud,” I said, “but he has been in this country for several years now.”

“Then it is sad that our paths did not cross either here or in Vienna. I should have welcomed the chance to converse in my own language. It tires one to always have to think of the correct English word.”

“Your English is very good,” Gus said.

“One improves with time, but I still do not speak it naturally.”

I had to agree with that. His accent was still strong, and the words were delivered with such staccato force that it was almost painful to listen to him. I found myself thinking that I would not have wanted to listen to one of the lectures he had apparently been giving all over the country.

“Perhaps you will be on the same ship as Dr. Birnbaum,” I said. “Then you two can chat about your research all the way across the Atlantic.”

“That would be a pleasure.” He looked at me critically. “You are also a student of psychology,
meine Frau
?”

“No. I’m a wife and mother,” I said. “Just a friend and neighbor of these ladies. I live across the street.”

“A charming street it is indeed,” he said. “It is good to live a tranquil life.”

Sid chuckled. “Molly hardly lives a tranquil life. Her husband is a policeman, and she was recently in that horrible train crash.”

“The train crash?
Mein Gott,
what a calamity this was. This train driver—he should be punished for driving so fast.” He turned the full force of his stare on me again. “You were lucky that you escaped unhurt,
meine Frau
.”

“Hardly unhurt. She cracked her ribs and had a concussion,” Gus said. “She’s still getting headaches. And bad dreams.”

“No, really. I am fine. Mending quickly,” I said, laughing off her concern.

“You have seen a doctor for this?”

“Yes, at the hospital. Ribs have to heal themselves, so I understand.”

“But the headaches.” He made a tut-tutting noise. “One does not trifle with a blow to the head. I could perhaps prescribe something to relieve the pain and help you sleep, if you wish?”

“Thank you, it’s very kind of you when you’re so busy,” I said. “But I’m sure the local dispensary could also…”

“It is no problem.” He waved an elegant hand at me. “It will take but a minute. I will have a messenger deliver it to you. You say your house is opposite this one?”

“Yes, number nine. Thank you very much. You’re very kind,” I said.

“This young girl, Dr. Werner,” Gus said. “Would you not at least see her? A recommendation from you would mean a lot to the family.”

“Her name?”

“Her name is Mabel Hamilton. She is living with her aunt on East Twentieth Street, near Gramercy Park.”

“Mabel Hamilton.” He spoke the words carefully, as if Mabel was a name he had never heard before. “Very well. I will grant your request and see Fraulein Mabel.” He pronounced it May Bell. “We could go now, if you wish, since I have no appointment before this afternoon.”

“I’ll go and summon a cab,” Sid said.

Much as I was brimming with curiosity, I could find no good reason to ask to join them. And there would not be room for me in the cab. Besides, my mother-in-law would be returning from her shopping soon, and I had promised not to go rushing all over the city. So reluctantly I took my leave, watching them walk down Patchin Place to find their cab.

I went about my morning tasks, waiting impatiently. I had just finished feeding Liam his midday meal, and was wiping a face liberally plastered with carrot, when Gus came to the front door.

“I knew you’d want a full report, Molly,” she said. “I’m sorry you couldn’t go with us, but frankly it was rather embarrassing to be crowded into a cab with Dr. Werner, having just met him. I don’t think he expected both of us to come with him, and he clearly found it distasteful to be sitting so close to two women. Rather amusing, actually. He’s very effete, wouldn’t you say?”

“Certainly doesn’t have what you’d call a bedside manner,” I said. “Although that was kind of him to offer to prescribe me something for my headaches, wasn’t it?”

“He was very kind to Mabel too,” Gus said. “Surprisingly so. I thought he’d be remote and professional, but he spoke to her kindly but firmly, as one would to a dog whose trust one was gaining. He asked us all to leave the room, so I can’t tell you what was said, but when he came out, he looked grave and said that he had been wrong. She was profoundly disturbed and in danger of losing her sanity. He regretted he was leaving so soon, and said that treatment would probably take months with a highly skilled alienist. Unfortunately, he knew of nobody in America who possessed these skills. However, he mentioned a clinic in Switzerland where a colleague of his was doing great work, and where he could also be available to supervise her treatment.”