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

“Have the crimes escalated in violence since the first one?”


Daniel paused, then said, “None of them was particularly violent. But don’t you worry yourself about it now. You need to rest and recuperate. And I’m afraid I have to get back to work. If we can be on hand the moment a murder is reported, we might stand a better chance of finding evidence. Each time we’ve been notified about a death so far, it’s been too late, and any evidence there might have been has been lost. But he’ll have to slip up eventually. They usually do when they become too cocky. Or sometimes, they actually want to be caught.”

He patted my arm and stood up. “But none of this is your concern. Get some sleep. I’ll go and find Liam and report back to you as soon as I can.”

Then he leaned over and kissed me tenderly on the lips. “I said long ago that you were like a cat with nine lives, Molly Murphy Sullivan. I rather think that was the eighth you’ve just used up. I’m going to wrap you in cotton from now on.”

Then he smiled and strode out of the ward.

*

I lay back and tried to sleep again, but my mind was alert and now that I knew that Liam was safely with his father, I found myself considering Daniel’s baffling case. I wished he’d have shared more details with me because I actually had time, lying here with nothing to do, to think through them in detail.

Saving the best for last. That certainly did sound like it could mean the killing of a prominent person, didn’t it? I wondered if all the murders had been leading up to this one—honing his skills, seeing what he could get away with, so that he could finally kill his intended target. But from the little Daniel had told me, they had found no clue about the circles the killer moved in, or whether his intended target might be rich or political or even religious. No wonder Daniel looked so worried. This case made searching for that proverbial needle in a haystack seem easy.

I shifted uncomfortably on the hard mattress. Now that the shock had worn off I was horribly aware of my various aches and pains. My head was throbbing and it hurt me to breathe, in spite of the bandage around my ribs. The woman in the next bed was asleep, snoring loudly and moaning in her sleep. At the other end of the ward, orderlies were changing the bed linen, chatting as they worked. It had started to rain and there was the sound of drumming on the roof. It felt so strange and alien here, as if I’d been transported to another world where I didn’t belong. All I wanted was to be safely home with my husband, my child, my friends. Now that I had time to consider it, my mother-in-law’s elegant country home seemed inviting, and I realized that I had been foolish to reject Daniel’s suggestion to take us there to recover. It wasn’t that my mother-in-law was a monster or anything like that. Of course I’d be well looked after with Mrs. Sullivan, her housekeeper, Martha, and young Bridie, her Irish ward, to wait on me. And the pleasant country air wafting in through the windows and fresh fruits and vegetables from the garden to eat would be lovely. It was only because I was too thin-skinned about Daniel’s mother’s subtle criticisms of my child-rearing and housekeeping skills—her hints about what good matches his friends had made, and her constant litany of all things connected to high society— that had made me decide that even this hard hospital bed was a better option. Now, after only a few hours, I had reversed my opinion.

A meal cart was wheeled into the ward and an unappetizing stew was sloshed onto plates. I tried to sit up without letting the watching nurse know I was in pain. I was extremely hungry but could manage only a couple of mouthfuls of the glutinous mess in my bowl. This would be a quick way of killing off the patients, I wanted to say, but I could not see a glimmer of humor in any of the faces around me. The woman who had been snoring was now being fed and dribbles of stew ran down her chin, like Liam when I was feeding him, but far less appealing.