The Edge of Dreams (Molly Murphy Mysteries, #14)

“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 was 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.