The Edge of Dreams (Molly Murphy Mysteries Book 14)
Page 7
She leaned closer to me, lowering her voice. “Between ourselves I rather think she sees herself as an expert in diseases of the mind and hopes to be invited to lecture in more academic circles. Some of Dr. Freud’s colleagues in Vienna were clearly impressed by her forward-thinking, you know.”
“Wouldn’t she require some kind of academic credential before she could lecture at a university?”
“Oh, definitely. But where would she find anyone qualified to teach her over here, and who is likely to accept a woman to study as an alienist? If she ever tried to present a thesis it would most likely be rejected. Doctors in this country completely reject the notion that the inner workings of the mind can be unlocked through dreams.”
I thought privately that it was unlikely Gus would study long and hard enough to become a doctor of anything. Sid and Gus usually tired of their latest enthusiasm quite quickly. Wisely I kept quiet. Maybe she really did have a calling to become an alienist. She certainly had a lively enough mind for it.
“It’s a constant struggle for us women to be taken seriously, isn’t it?” Sid said, now speaking in a normal voice again as she put bread on the table. “Yet another state has rejected a woman’s right to vote even in local elections. It seems as if our suffrage movement is making no progress at all. I’ve been trying to get our suffrage sisters back into the saddle after the summer to plan our next campaign. The problem is that most women are either at the mercy of a husband or their family. If the family goes to Newport for the summer, they have to go along. I’ve been trying to round our group up and set them back to work. It’s like herding cats, Molly. They’re all in favor of the idea of women’s suffrage, but they can only dedicate themselves to it when it fits in with their social schedules.”
I recalled that Sid and Gus had abandoned the cause so that Gus could paint in Paris earlier this year and then so that Gus could study with Professor Freud in Vienna. Again I said nothing and nodded agreement as I spread butter on a slice of bread.
“It hasn’t been easy, Molly,” Sid said, aware of my silence.
“No, I’m sure it hasn’t been,” I said. I retrieved Liam’s apple and handed it back to him.
“Sometimes I feel that we’re going nowhere. Do you know there is even a thriving Anti-Suffrage League now?” Sid didn’t look up from slicing a loaf of bread. “Actively working to block our every move. Disgusting, I call it. Our movement will only succeed if we all dedicate ourselves to the cause, not when it suits us, but wholeheartedly. Anyway, I’ve finally managed to round up enough women to hold a meeting here tomorrow night. I hope you’ll attend if you feel up to it.”
“I fully intend to,” I said. “However much my husband is against the idea.”
“Most men are.” Sid sighed. “Many women too, unfortunately. They think we should allow ourselves to be guided by the superior intellect and worldly ways of our menfolk. Utter rot, of course. I’ll put my intellect and worldliness up against that of a man any day.” She looked up, realizing she was waving the bread knife in a dramatic manner and chuckled.
“How convenient that I’ll be here tomorrow night and not have to invent a reason to attend your meeting. However shortsighted Daniel can be, I don’t like to deceive him or go behind his back.” I paused, then added, “Even if he did go behind mine by inviting his mother and buying beds without consulting me.”
Gus joined us and we had a lively discussion over lunch on the frustrations of the suffrage movement and the shortsightedness of most men. Afterward Sid carried Liam upstairs for his nap and insisted I take one too.
“We’re going shopping this afternoon, Molly,” she said. “Is there anything we can get for you?”
“Nothing, thank you,” I replied. “Unless you’d like to pop into Wanamaker’s and buy linens for my house.”
“Of course. Give me the bed sizes and I’ll be happy to do it.”
“I was only joking, Sid,” I said. “Daniel told me to make a list and he’d have Wanamaker’s deliver. I’d rather like to have bed linens in place before his mother arrives or she’ll be buying what she wants.”
“Well, sheets are no problem, are they?” Sid said. “But you’ll need pillows. Feather pillows. And do you have mattresses for the beds? Make sure you get a feather mattress for your bed. Your mother-in-law and the maid can sleep on horsehair.” And she grinned.
“It seems rather overwhelming at the moment,” I said.
“I told you we can lend you enough sheets to start you off. But you should select your own blankets and quilts. Choose your color and then tell Daniel that Wanamaker’s can send over several for you to choose from.”
“Can one do that?” I asked.
“Of course. If they want your business, they have to be amenable,” she said.
How different it was to have grown up privileged, I thought. In my childhood quilts were made and beds were stuffed with whatever odds and ends of fabric could be retrieved from cast-off garments. I don’t think my mother ever bought bed linens from a store in her life. Not that there were any stores close to our cottage on the wild west coast of Ireland.
I made my way slowly up the stairs and took off my dress before I lay down. I had opened the bedroom windows and lay there listening to the gentle cooing of pigeons on the rooftops, the roar of the city muted and distant. How peaceful it was here, I thought. And yet my house across the street had always seemed a peaceful haven too, until somebody had hurled a bomb through my window. Could it be true that at this moment someone was plotting to kill me? It seemed hard to believe. I had been one of several hundred passengers on a train that had somehow been diverted to the wrong route. Someone had made a mistake. It had to have been an accident, because there was no way that one man could have orchestrated and carried out such a complicated feat.
Thus reassured I lay back, letting my mind drift over Daniel’s complicated case. Unrelated victims from such different walks of life. Crimes that would never have been considered murders without the notes to Daniel. And at the beginning of August, someone might have lived who should have died. Fascinating. Had the killer slipped up once? Had that annoyed him? Or had he once decided to show mercy? If Gus really had studied long enough to have become an expert in diseases of the mind, maybe she could have come up with a profile for a man who would behave in this way. But I, with no such training, felt completely in the dark.
Then an idea came to me. My mind had wandered on to Sid’s impassioned speech about the suffragists and how she was trying to make them all work together. A group of people working toward a common cause.…Was it possible that Daniel was not looking for one man, but a group? Surely not politically or religiously motivated, since the victims were so diverse and so seemingly random. But what about a club, a secret society for which the initiation was to commit a murder? It was a horrible thought, but that might explain why the crimes were so different.
Secret society. I toyed with the words. One of the victims was a student at the university here. Wasn’t that the sort of thing with which rich young boys might amuse themselves? If I were looking into this investigation myself, I’d start with Simon Grossman. I’d find out whether he came from an affluent family and what circles he moved in. Because his death was the only one that was clearly a murder. Perhaps he had been part of the secret society but had objected to the killings—had threatened to go to the police and so had to be silenced in a hurry.
A group such as that could work together to derail a train. But then the question arose as to why they’d send their notes to Daniel. Still, I felt a glimmer of excitement as I lay back to sleep. It was that old feeling of being the hound and catching the first scent of the fox. And as soon as I was able, I’d go to that café, just south of Washington Square, and ask a few questions for myself.
Eight
It was not a restful sleep this time. I was in a dark and confined space, hanging over a cliff.
“Let go of the baby or we’ll all plunge to our deaths,” someone was shouting.r />
“I’m not letting go of my baby,” I screamed back, but he was wrenched from my arms. I awoke sweating, my heart pounding. It was a grim reminder that I wasn’t going to get over the train crash in a hurry.
When Daniel stopped by to visit later that evening, he reported that he had sent a telegram to his mother, asking her to come as soon as possible. And I, in turn, was able to tell him that I had arranged for Wanamaker’s to bring a selection of bedding to Sid and Gus’s house for my approval.
“What?” Daniel demanded. “Have you lost your senses, Molly? Has living with rich friends gone to your head?”
“I don’t see why you’re so upset,” I replied, feeling my own hackles rising. “You said you’d left it to me to select things like linens that women supposedly know about. Well, I’m about to select. And since I can’t go to the store, the store has to come to me.”
“Yes, but…” Daniel spluttered. “Asking a store to bring you a selection? You know they’ll only send their most expensive items. We are not rich, Molly. You know that. Besides, I’ve already asked my mother to bring any extra bedding she might have. My mother never throws away anything. I’m sure she has the quilt I had on my bed as a child among the many items stashed away in her attic.”
“Daniel Sullivan!” I stood up, glaring at him. “If you think I am going to begin my new life in my new house with the castoffs from your mother’s attic, you can think again.”
“Only until we have time to make proper choices, and to budget what we can afford, Molly. And you know my mother has very good taste.”
“Oh, I see.” I was pacing now, oblivious to the twinges of pain in my side. “You come in here, announcing that you’ve selected beds at Sloane’s. You choose all the furniture for our house, without consulting me, but you begrudge me the selection of the sheets for my own bed?“
He took a step back, surprised by this outburst. “Whoa there.” He held up his hand. “I tried to re-create our house exactly as it was. I thought you’d be pleased. I wanted to surprise you.”
A small voice in my head whispered that he had done a nice thing for me, but I couldn’t let go of the anger that surged up whenever I felt powerless. “Maybe I didn’t want our house exactly as it was,” I said. “Some of that furniture was yours. Your choice, your taste. Well, I’ve been through a lot this year, Daniel, through no fault of my own. You should want to make it up to me.”
“Some people would give their eye teeth to spend a summer in Paris,” Daniel said. “I don’t think we can consider a sea voyage and a summer in Europe a hardship.”
“Yes, a summer in Paris is a wonderful thing, but not when I had to go through—” I stopped short, remembering once again that I had never told Daniel the true details of what had happened to me in Paris, not wanting to upset him at such a difficult time.
“Had to go through what?”
“Worrying about you,” I said quickly. “Trying to recover from losing my home, nearly being killed, nearly losing my child, and not knowing if you were dead or alive. Not knowing if the gang would seek me out in Europe. It was hardly a carefree time for me, Daniel.”
“I see.” He nodded. “Of course you have been through a lot this year. Which was why I wanted to make it up to you. I tried to bring back your house as you remembered it. I worked hard at it, Molly, traveling all over the city in my spare time, having friends keep their eyes open for various items of furniture. And I think I did a pretty darned good job too.”
He was yelling now too. We were facing each other like two dogs meeting unexpectedly, fur bristling. That small voice was louder now, telling me not to go on with this.
“You did, Daniel. I’m sorry.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “But I don’t want to feel that you’ve taken over everything. I’m trapped here with painful ribs. You’ve invited your mother without consulting me. And now you tell me she’s going to be bringing her sheets and quilts with her and you don’t want me shopping for my own. It’s no wonder I’m upset.”
Daniel shook his head. “I’ll never understand women,” he said. “When I think I’m taking care of you and protecting you, you explode.”
“Then let me explain one thing about women that you should know by now.” I folded my arms as I faced him. “If you want to please your wife, do not tell her you are letting her mother-in-law furnish her house because she has good taste.”
I saw a smile twitch at his lips. “I didn’t say that.”
“No, but you implied it. How do you think I feel if I have no say over my own life?”
“Point taken,” he said. “But truly it was nothing to get worked up about. I did say it was only until we could make a proper selection. No sense in rushing into things.”
“There’s also no harm in seeing what Wanamaker’s has to offer,” I said. “I don’t have to buy any of the things they bring.”
“I suppose not,” he admitted grudgingly. “I’m sorry. I should not have reacted so strongly. After what happened to you yesterday, I wanted to make sure you were safely settled in your own home as soon as possible. And you will need help, won’t you? You’re not up to taking care of a house and Liam on your own—which is why I invited my mother.”
“Yes, I’ll need help,” I agreed. “But I’m choosing my own bed linen, Daniel Sullivan.”
He laughed and took me in his arms. “I’m glad your fiery nature is back, my darling. You’ve been so subdued since you came back from France. I’ve missed my old Molly.”
And he kissed me, gently at first and then with increasing passion.
“No more, Daniel,” I warned. “You have to handle me carefully. Remember I’m injured.”
“Of course. We’ll save that for later, when we’re back in our own house. I’ve never felt comfortable making love to you in that apartment with Liam in the same room.” He ran a hand over my shoulder. “You get some rest, and I have to go back to work.”
“Again? It’s almost dinnertime.”
“Afraid so. Another briefing with the rail people.”
“They work you too hard, Daniel.”
“I do what has to be done. And if I think that a monster is still at large in this city, someone who feels he can murder at will, then I have to keep working until we stop him.”
“There is one thing, Daniel,” I said as he headed for the door. “I had a thought. What if we weren’t looking for one person, but for several?”
“A gang, you mean?” He shook his head. “This doesn’t have the stamp of gangland killings.”
“I didn’t mean a gang. I was thinking more of a secret society. What if their initiation requires them to kill? That might explain why these murders were so very different.”
Daniel frowned, then shook his head. “A secret society? This is the twentieth century, Molly. And New York City.”
“One of the victims was a student at the university. Students have been known to do such things.”
“He was a victim, not a perpetrator.”
“He was the only one whose death was immediately recognized as a murder. What if he was a member of such a society, but decided he wanted no part of what they were doing?”
Daniel shook his head again. “An interesting theory, but I can’t take it seriously. Obviously we have looked into the backgrounds of the various victims. We have a good idea of his character, his friends, and his family. He was an easygoing, outgoing, likable young man with a bright future ahead of him.” He paused, then added, “Of course, he wasn’t a saint. He liked to go out drinking with his friends. He found it hard to live within his means, as many students do. His father said that he’d gotten into debt, and the father had to give him a severe talking to. But he was not the sort to be involved in anything underhanded.”
“Parents don’t always know what their sons are capable of getting up to,” I pointed out.
“I can have one of my men make discreet inquiries, I suppose,” Daniel said. “But I don’t see how we’re going to flush out a secret society. Beside
s, I feel in my gut that we’re dealing with one person who is waging some kind of personal vendetta.”
“Against you,” I said.
“I don’t want to believe that, but you may be right. We’re no farther ahead with the cause of the train crash. My superiors want the locomotive driver to be prosecuted. They think this is something to do with a looming union strike. But he swears he is innocent and feels terrible about what happened. He also swears there was a Ninth Avenue disk on the front of his train when he set off.”
“I can attest to that too. So can the other passengers,” I said.
Daniel shook his head. “If only one thing made sense, I’d know where to start,” he said. “But keep coming up with your suggestions. If nothing else, they cause me to reexamine my own theories.”
He closed the door behind him. I couldn’t resist a small smile of satisfaction. Who would have thought, a couple of years ago, that Daniel Sullivan would ever have admitted that my suggestions were useful to him? We had come a long way together!
Sid and Gus were in earnest discussion at dinner, over the best way the suffrage movement should move forward. Sid thought the time had come for more desperate measures. Suffragettes in England were chaining themselves to the railings outside the Parliament buildings. They were attacking policemen and their horses. Gus heartily disapproved of this.
“If we want to have the average housewife on our side, we have to behave in a way she can admire,” she said. “We have no hope of succeeding until every woman in the country realizes that it is her right to vote, and that she is being denied her full participation in society.”
“So how do we win over the housewives of New York, let alone Kansas and Alabama?” Sid said. She turned to me. “You’re a married woman, Molly. You have to keep the peace with a typical male. What do you suggest?”
“I wish I knew,” I said. “It’s part of allowing women control over their own lives, isn’t it? We’re raised to be told that men are wiser and more experienced and that they know what’s best for us. I suppose it’s the education of girls that must be changed. For myself, I ruled the roost over my younger brothers after my mother died. I refused to wear a corset then, and I leap at Daniel now anytime he tries to lord it over me.”