The Edge of Dreams (Molly Murphy Mysteries Book 14)

by Rhys Bowen

  Daniel glanced at me as I went to open my mouth, then said hastily, “On the contrary. My wife is a former detective and I value her powers of observation.” I could have kissed him.

  “A former detective. Well, I never.” Dr. Piper raised an eyebrow. “Although I am not sure that there are any clues for you to follow here, Madam Sherlock Holmes.” And he chuckled. “Please come in.” He led us across a marble entrance hall with a wide flight of polished steps leading up to the floor above. From somewhere at the back of the building I could hear a piano being played.

  “That’s Alice Gorman,” he said. “She was studying to be a concert pianist until she drowned her children in their bathtub. She practices every day and occasionally gives us a concert.”

  “So the inmates are allowed to intermingle?” Daniel asked.

  “Those who are not considered a danger to themselves or others. And we allow them the niceties to make life bearable, if appropriate. There was no reason that Alice should not bring her piano.”

  He opened a door and led us into a pleasant study with chintz-covered armchairs and a big untidy desk. He indicated that I should take the chair in the bay window. I noticed that this window had no bars on it, but looked out across the lawn to the tree-covered hillside above.

  “And Edward Deveraux? Did he intermingle?” Daniel asked, taking a seat across from the doctor.

  “Edward was not the most sociable of beings. He brought his books with him and kept to himself. Always reading and doing experiments. I discussed them with him sometimes. Really quite a brilliant brain in some ways. So keen to know about scientific advances.”

  “Did he form any special attachments with any of the other inmates?” Daniel asked.

  Dr. Piper frowned. “We prefer to call them patients here, Captain Sullivan. They all suffer from a deficiency of the brain that has made them not responsible for their actions. And no, Edward kept himself aloof from other patients here. Not that they are allowed to meet often in a social capacity, but Edward rarely wanted to be sociable even when they had a chance—he chose not to attend when Alice gave a concert, for example.”

  “And what about the staff here? Did Mr. Deveraux have a particular staff member who looked after him?”

  “That would be Annie Peters,” he said. “She left us last year to get married. We were sorry to lose her.”

  “Annie Peters. She married the butcher,” Daniel said.

  Dr. Piper nodded. “That’s right. Such a tragedy that he was killed, after she had found happiness at such a late stage of her life.”

  “So she was the one who had the most dealings with Edward Deveraux?” I asked. My brain was leaping ahead. Had she become fond of him? Formed an attachment to him? Married the butcher for his money, perhaps? And then found a way to get rid of him while avenging Edward’s death?

  “Yes, she was his attendant,” Dr. Piper said, then added “much to Edward’s disgust. He found her stupid and annoying. She tidied up things he was working on. She made him wash and change his clothes.” He smiled. “I think he grew a beard just to spite her, because she always insisted that he shave. Then, of course, he refused to comb his beard.”

  I was glad I hadn’t voiced my thoughts. So there was no love lost between Edward and Annie Peters. Apparently nobody here would have cared about Edward enough to be his champion and avenger.

  “Tell me about the day he died,” Daniel said.

  Dr. Piper sighed. “Such a tragic waste. I blame myself, of course.”

  “Yourself?” Daniel’s voice was sharp.

  “I was his doctor, responsible for the state of his mind. I should have seen that he was troubled, perhaps contemplating suicide, but he gave no indication of it. None at all. In fact he had seemed quite cheerful in the preceding days. He seemed to be looking forward to meeting this distinguished doctor. He read all he could of the doctor’s papers. He even neatened up his appearance, which surely he would not have done had he been contemplating suicide. Spruced himself up properly.” Dr. Piper got up and walked over to the window, standing beside me to look out, as if re-creating a scene in his mind. “He had recently become interested in ornithology. We have many fascinating birds in this part of the country. A pair of binoculars was sent to him and he spent long hours at his window, studying the birds and making notes on them. He made a fine scrapbook. He also asked that any dead birds found on the property be brought to him to dissect, but of course we couldn’t comply with this request, since it would have involved sharp instruments, and our patients are not allowed knives of any sort.”

  “So he took up bird-watching,” Daniel said. “And he was allowed outside to do this?”

  “Our patients are encouraged to take a daily walk, accompanied by an attendant, of course.”

  “You don’t worry about a patient overpowering his attendant and escaping?”

  Dr. Piper shook his head emphatically. “Our grounds are completely surrounded by the wall, and there is no way to escape. The attendant always carries a whistle. Edward was permitted to take his binoculars and watch his birds. We found it a positive activity.”

  “On the day he died, you were walking with him?”

  “No, not I. We had a distinguished doctor visiting us, and it transpired that he was also a keen ornithologist. Edward wanted him to see the hawk’s nest he had recently discovered, so they went out together. They went to the upper part of our property, where the hawk’s nest was located in a tall pine tree. A stream crosses that corner of the estate—”

  “And the inmates cannot escape via this stream?” Daniel asked.

  “Impossible. It enters as a waterfall down a sheer rock face and exits through a culvert with bars over it. Perhaps you would like to see for yourself?” He turned to me. “I am afraid it may be a little muddy after the rain we’ve just had. If you’d prefer to stay here?”

  “I’d like to come too,” I said. “I grew up in Ireland. I’m used to rain and mud.”

  The doctor let us out of a side door and we crossed the lawn. It was indeed muddy and I cursed my pointed heels that sank in, making it hard for me to keep up with striding men. On the other side, a path rose through a forest of oaks and conifers. Our footsteps made no sound on the carpet of leaves and needles. The cry of a hawk made me jump. There was an eerie watchfulness to the woods, and I glanced back over my shoulder as if someone might have been following us. Ahead I could hear the sound of running water, and we came to a rocky clearing where an ornamental stone bridge spanned the stream. We couldn’t see the water until we walked onto the bridge and stood, looking down to where the stream danced swiftly over a series of cascades in a miniature gorge.

  “Pretty, isn’t it?” Dr. Piper said. “Very picturesque. In the old days I gather this was considered a local beauty spot, and tourists came from miles around to visit it. Now, of course, nobody sees it but us.”

  “So it was from this bridge that Deveraux threw himself?” Daniel stood at the edge of the bridge, looking down.

  “It was.” Dr. Piper sighed. “They stood here, and Edward pointed up at the rock face and the tree with the nest in it. Then while the doctor was looking up, Edward suddenly threw the strap of the binoculars around the doctor’s neck and tried to strangle him. They struggled and fell to the ground. The doctor was relatively young and fit and was able to free himself from Edward’s hold on him. But before he could get back to his feet, Edward climbed onto the parapet and threw himself, spread-eagled, to the rocks below.”

  He paused, staring down at the stream. “You have to understand,” he said quietly, “that it was a late spring this year. The snow and ice above had not yet melted. There was only a mere trickle of water coming down, and the rocks were exposed. He was killed instantly. It was horrible to behold. Dr. Werner managed to climb down to him, at considerable risk to himself, and in spite of the injuries he had sustained, but…”

  “Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “Did you say Dr. Werner?”

  “That’s right. He wa
s visiting this country from Vienna, and knowing him to be a leading expert in the field of deviations of the brain, I invited him to come and see our patients. You have perhaps heard of him?”

  “Dr. Otto Werner?” I said. “Yes. I have met him in New York.”

  “A fine man,” Dr. Piper said with warmth. “And so distressed by what happened. He was lucky to come away with his life. His throat was so bruised he could hardly speak. We begged him to stay and recuperate but he wanted to go straight to a hospital in the city—he was worried about damage to his vocal cords.”

  Daniel looked at me. “Dr. Werner, isn’t he the man who was treating the Hamilton girl?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Daniel, we must get back to New York immediately.”

  As we talked I had been looking around, trying to picture the scene—the doctor looking up at the hawk’s nest, the strap coming suddenly around his neck, him falling backward onto the rocky surface. It was lucky he was not knocked out by hitting his head on one of those rocks, I thought.

  “I didn’t think that Dr. Werner was still in New York,” the doctor said. “I understood that he was planning to sail home last spring.”

  “No, he’s still here,” I said, “but leaving this week, if he hasn’t already sailed.”

  “I don’t know what else he can tell you about Edward Deveraux’s death, or how those facts can assist you in solving a crime,” Dr. Piper said. “He gave a full report to local police, and of course other members of our staff were on the scene almost immediately. Anyone who accompanies a patient onto the grounds is always equipped with a whistle. As soon as Dr. Werner remembered the whistle and had the strength to blow it, other staff members rushed to his aid. Several of our male attendants climbed down to help him bring Edward up from the streambed. It wasn’t easy, as you can imagine. Of course it was already too late to save him. As I said before, he had died instantly.”

  I shifted from foot to foot, impatient to get back to New York. As I looked around, my eyes moving from the rushing stream to the rocky hillside, I caught a glimpse of something sparkling from the gorge. Curious, I went closer. It appeared to be a small mirror, lodged halfway down in a clump of bushes growing from the rock wall. I was about to point it out to Daniel, but he had already started to walk away.

  Thirty-two

  The train seemed to move at a snail’s pace.

  “This is a remarkable coincidence,” Daniel said.

  I had been weighing the facts on the slow ride back to the station, trying to see them impartially.

  “Perhaps not so remarkable,” I replied. “I suppose as one of the leaders in his field it was natural that he would be invited to see the patients at such an institution. And, as an expert on dreams, he was the one recommended by Professor Freud to treat Mabel.”

  “It just seems strange that Edward Deveraux’s name never came up in conversation,” Daniel said.

  “How would Dr. Werner know that Mabel was in any way connected to the Deveraux family? Sid and Gus found him and took him to see the girl at her aunt’s house. All the same, I don’t usually believe in coincidence, and neither do you.”

  “You know where this Dr. Werner lives, do you?”

  “Sid and Gus do. But he may no longer be in the city. When we last saw him, he had his passage booked on a liner sailing to Germany. He said he was looking forward to going home after being away for so long.”

  “So he will not be treating the Hamilton girl after all?”

  “He suggested that her relatives send her to a clinic in Switzerland, where he will have time to treat her. He said cases like hers could not be rushed.”

  “I can see that,” Daniel said. “All the same, I don’t know whether we can allow her to leave the city. She is our one witness, if she ever recovers her memory.”

  “I don’t think she wants to go, actually,” I said. “I wouldn’t, if I felt alone and vulnerable and I was currently safe in the bosom of my family.”

  Daniel nodded. “So Dr. Werner wasn’t able to interpret her dreams? Neither was your friend Augusta?”

  I sighed. “He seemed to think that the snake in her dreams was a common symbol for a young girl going through puberty. Apparently most of our dreams symbols are connected to sex, according to Professor Freud.”

  We had been talking in low voices but there was a horrified intake of breath from the stout matron sitting opposite us, obviously the type who enjoys eavesdropping. I realized that polite society did not condone the mention of any bodily function. It certainly didn’t condone the mention of sex. I looked at Daniel, and we exchanged a grin as the woman pretended to concentrate on her knitting.

  “I’m just wondering whether today was essentially a waste of time and police money,” Daniel said as we neared the end of our journey and the Manhattan skyline appeared on our left across the Hudson. “True, we learned that Dr. Werner was there when Deveraux killed himself, and that is indeed an unexpected and interesting fact. But it was also confirmed that Edward Deveraux was essentially a loner who developed no close friends or confidants. Certainly nobody who would have killed for him.”

  “I wonder why he suddenly decided to attack Dr. Werner, after so many years of docility?” I said.

  Daniel shrugged. “Maybe the doctor’s questions probed too near to the bone for Deveraux’s liking, Dr. Werner may have gotten Deveraux to admit something he didn’t want to face. Werner is a leading alienist, after all.”

  “And when Edward Deveraux realized he’d confessed something he should have kept quiet about, he decided to silence the doctor.”

  “Or…” Daniel paused, waving a finger as he thought. “Maybe Deveraux had decided to end his life, and killing an eminent alienist before he died was to be his last defiance. I’ve seen it often enough—I’m going to go, but I’m going to take you with me.”

  “That makes sense too,” I said. “I hope Dr. Werner hasn’t already left New York. He may have his own thoughts on Edward’s motive.”

  “I must go to headquarters when we get into the city,” Daniel said. “Let’s hope I’m not now in more trouble for wasting police money on a useless jaunt. Can you visit your friends and find out Dr. Werner’s address for me?”

  “Of course. And should I bring it to you at Mulberry Street?”

  “Probably not,” Daniel said. “If we happened to bump into the assistant commissioner again, I don’t think that would go down well. I may have to put off visiting Werner until later.”

  “How much time do we have, Daniel?” I could feel the urgency building up inside me. “He’s leaving any moment now. We have to speak to him first.”

  Daniel shrugged. “Is it that crucial?”

  “Of course it is. We need every detail of what transpired between him and Edward, everything Edward might have said to him. There has to be come vital insight that we’ve all missed. And Dr. Werner may have seen Mabel Hamilton again. She may have revealed something to him that will make sense to us.”

  “Maybe.” Daniel didn’t sound as enthusiastic as I felt he should be. Myself, I couldn’t wait to talk to the doctor. I felt he must be able to shed light on some aspect of this complicated thread. I was already standing up as the train pulled into the Jersey terminus.

  We rode the ferry across to Manhattan, then Daniel set off in one direction for Mulberry Street while I went home to Patchin Place. My motherly instinct told me I should stop in first to see that Liam was all right, then I reminded myself that my mother-in-law was perfectly capable. Bridie never let him out of her sight, and besides, it was still in the middle of his afternoon naptime. And I was anxious to get Dr. Werner’s address so that Daniel could question him. Actually I would have liked to talk to the doctor myself, but I knew that would not go down well with Daniel and the New York police.

  I tapped on Sid and Gus’s door and was relieved when I heard footsteps coming down the hall toward me. They were rarely home on fine days. Sid opened the door, which was also unusual, as Gus seemed to be the designated gr
eeter.

  “Molly!” She looked almost startled to see me.

  “I’m sorry. I hope I’m not disturbing something. If you have visitors, I could go away and come back later.”

  “No. You’d better come in. You may be able to help, since you have more experience with this kind of thing than we do.” She almost yanked me inside and shut the door, taking me through to the drawing room, which was in itself unusual, as they lived in the kitchen and conservatory most of the year. As I came in I saw two people sitting together on the sofa. One was Gus and the other was Minnie Hamilton. Gus was holding her hand, which surprised me even further.

  “Oh, Molly, it’s you. Thank God,” Gus said as they looked up at me.

  “What’s wrong? What’s happened?” I asked.

  “Sit down, do. We’ll need your help,” Gus said.

  I perched on an upright chair across from them.

  “It’s Mabel,” Mrs. Hamilton said. “She’s gone.”

  “Gone? Where? Did you decide to send her to Europe after all?”

  Minnie Hamilton shook her head, and I could see she had been crying. “Just gone. When I went into her room this morning she wasn’t there. I let her sleep as late as she likes, because her nights are so often disturbed. But when she wasn’t awake by ten I decided to peek in on her. There was no sign of her. I don’t understand it. Where can she be? Did she decide to run away and slip out during the night?”

  “Is there any reason she might have wanted to run away?” I asked.

  “I thought she felt safe with us,” Minnie said. “But she was upset when we talked of sending her to Switzerland. She should have known we’d never do anything like that against her will.”

  “Where might she go if she ran away?” I asked. “Has she friends in the city?”

  “No bosom friends that I know of. She attended an academy for young ladies on the Upper East Side and must have had friends there, but nobody has come to visit her since the tragedy, apart from her schoolmistress.”

  “Was she fond of this teacher?” I asked. “Might she have run to her?”