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

“No. He was American. Nicely spoken. He booked two tickets for himself and his daughter on the Queen of the Amazon, sailing to South America tomorrow. What was his name?” He paused, thinking. “That’s it. I remember. Mr. Edwards.”


I left, my heart pounding. My mind was toying with a preposterous idea. Don’t be ridiculous, I told myself. There were plenty of tall, thin men sporting black beards in New York City. And a Mr. Edwards taking his daughter on a journey to South America was just yet another coincidence. But I had to make sure. I had to see for myself whether Dr. Werner had left his residence or not. I was planning to hail another hansom cab. I started walking through the narrow streets of the dock area without seeing any sign of a cab, and I was beginning to get annoyed when I recognized the shape of City Hall in the distance ahead of me. I could certainly find a cab there, I thought, and hurried forward. Then I noticed the subway station. I had used the Métro often enough in Paris, but still hadn’t conditioned myself to think of the subway as a good mode of transportation in New York.

I went down the steps to an elegant foyer with a glass-domed roof, more like a museum than a train station. But I had no time or inclination to study architecture today. I paid for a ticket and went down the steps to the platform. Almost immediately I heard the rumble of a train. It thundered into the station. People got out. I climbed aboard and in no time at all found myself at Astor Place. Just across Broadway, past Wanamaker’s department store, was Ninth Street. I stopped outside number 18. Heavy drapes were drawn across the windows. It had that closed, unlived-in look to it. I couldn’t bring myself to go and knock on the front door. That would definitely be something I left for Daniel, but I walked slowly past on the other side of the street, then waited on the corner until I saw a woman coming toward me with a laden shopping basket. When she was about to go into a house almost directly across from Dr. Werner’s, I approached her.

“Excuse me,” I said.

She stopped and turned back to me.

“That house over there. Would you happen to know if it’s empty right now? We’re looking for a place around here to rent, and someone told me the former tenant had moved out.”

“That’s right,” she said. “I guess he must have gone by now. I heard he was returning to Europe and I haven’t seen him for the past day or so. If you’re wanting to rent it, it’s a Mr. Michelson who owns several of the houses on this street. You’ll find his offices on Broadway.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Do you think anyone could let me in now to look around, since I’m in the area, and very keen to snap up a good house? It’s in good condition, would you say?”

“I couldn’t tell you that,” she replied. “There’s been a gentleman living there alone these past months. Mrs. Hallinan at number twenty-four used to clean for him, and kept it nice and neat. But then one day he fired her—he didn’t give a reason—and since then he must have been looking after himself. I’ve yet to see a gentleman who knows how to cook and clean, so I’m wondering about the state of the place. Probably nothing a good dose of elbow grease can’t cure.”

“Perhaps he sends out his laundry and takes his meals at a nearby café,” I said. “Some gentlemen like their privacy, particularly academic types.”

“I never saw the laundry cart stop at his house,” she said.

“What sort of man was he—friendly?” I felt bold enough to go on now.

“To start with, yes, he was pleasant enough. He spoke English with a strong accent, mind you, but you could understand him all right. But then one day he completely ignored me, and since then he’s hardly managed a civil nod if I bid him good day. Good riddance, I say. I like my neighbors to be friendly, don’t you? I hope you do move in here. You’ve a nice open face. Are you married with little ones? We could do with more children on this street.”

“I’ve a baby boy,” I said. “My husband’s with the police.”

“Perfect.” She beamed at me. “I’m Mrs. Rogers.”