by Rhys Bowen
She took Liam from me and carried him down the hall at a great rate into the kitchen, where Sid was stirring something mysterious over the stove.
“It’s couscous,” Gus said as I peered at the pot. “We’re having a Moroccan evening. We might even belly dance later. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Well, I won’t want to join you in the belly dancing,” I replied with a wry smile. “It still hurts me to stand up straight, let alone wiggle my middle.”
“Oh, you poor thing. Of course. Sit down. I’ll get you a pillow,” Gus said. “Or would you be more comfortable in one of the armchairs in the sitting room?”
“No, I’m just fine here.” I sat on one of the straight-backed kitchen chairs. “I do better sitting upright.”
“You heard we were turned away from your house earlier?” Sid asked.
“I heard the knocking and then my mother-in-law’s voice,” I said. “But it takes me so long to get up at the moment that you’d gone again by the time I could come down the stairs. But I’m dying of curiosity, so wild horses wouldn’t keep me away. So, did you go to see Mabel? Did you learn anything?”
Gus put some pots and pans on the floor for Liam to play with, then came to sit beside me. “We learned lots.”
“Did you ask about her father’s profession?” I asked.
“We did. And he was a senior clerk in his father-in-law’s bank. He had hoped to be made a partner when he married Susan, but that never happened. But he was described as the sort of man who got along with everybody and didn’t make enemies.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound promising, does it?” I said. “Nobody can have a grudge against a bank clerk. And apparently no family feud?”
“We had to ask that rather cautiously,” Sid said, “because after all, Mrs. Hamilton is family. But she insisted that he was a likable sort, welcome at family gatherings, and that his father-in-law had finally come around to accepting him. There was even talk that he might be promoted to better things.”
“So Mrs. Hamilton couldn’t come up with anyone who might have done this foul thing?”
“She was quite annoyed that we even suggested it,” Sid said. “We pointed out that you had asked the question, and you were used to dealing with criminal cases.”
“But I’ll tell you one thing, Molly,” Gus said. “Mabel had another dream last night. Her aunt said she was whimpering and cowering in the corner when she found her. But she did write it down when she woke up.”
“Was it the snake again?”
“It was. But this time she said the snake grew white hands. And the hands had long, pointed fingernails. And they were really sharp. And she held her breath and the snake didn’t see her this time.”
“How horrible,” I said. “What can that mean—the snake growing fingers?”
“I don’t know,” Gus said. “I feel hopelessly out of my depth with this, Molly. It’s all very well to have been taught that when we dream of being naked we’re feeling vulnerable. That makes sense. But a snake that grows hands with long fingernails? I have no idea where to start. I do hope we get a letter back from Professor Freud soon and he can make some recommendation for us. This girl clearly needs help badly, and I’m afraid I can’t give it to her.”
Sid came over to join us. “I suggested to Gus that the snake might be Mabel’s own evil side—intentions and impulses she can’t control. Perhaps the hands were her hands, reaching out to do something terrible.”
“Holy Mother of God,” I muttered. “I just pray you aren’t right there, Sid.”
“This is where my smattering of alienist training is now revealed as hopelessly inadequate,” Gus said. “I’m thinking of approaching the school of medicine at the university and seeing if they now teach the diseases of the mind.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “There is always Dr. Birnbaum. Did you ever meet him? I don’t think so. He’s also an alienist who trained with Freud in Vienna, but he’s been in America for several years now.”
“So he won’t have been involved in the study of dreams,” Gus said. “All of that research is quite recent.”
“But he is a proper alienist,” Sid said. “That’s something. How do you know him, Molly?”
“He was called in to treat a woman when I was staying at a mansion on the Hudson once,” I said. “I’ve asked him for help several times since then. But I haven’t been in contact with him for two years now. He’s often out of the city, lecturing around the States. Would you like me to see if he’s here at the moment?”
Sid looked at Gus. “It can’t do any harm, can it? You said you needed a trained alienist.”
“I suppose so,” Gus agreed. I could tell she was torn. She really wanted to prove that she had the ability to solve this case, while her sensible side told her that she didn’t. Then she nodded firmly. “Yes, that might be a good thing to do, Molly. A real alienist will know what should be done with Mabel, even if he can’t interpret her dreams.”
“And he may well have been reading up on Freud’s latest research,” Sid said. “The professor has published a book on the subject, hasn’t he? So your Dr. Birnbaum might even have developed an interest in dream psychology himself. Yes, I definitely think we should contact him, Molly. Should we write him a letter, do you think?”
“He lives close by,” I said. “Or he did when I last visited him. Would you like me to go and set the stage for you?”
“That would be a good idea,” Gus said. “Better than receiving a letter from two crazy women out of the blue.” And she smiled.
“Oh, and I also came to tell you that I thought we should celebrate Liam’s birthday tomorrow, seeing that it’s Sunday,” I said. “There’s a chance Daniel might have an afternoon off, or at least be able to get away for a while.”
“Lovely.” Gus beamed. “We’ll bring some food with us. And champagne. We have to have champagne.”
“Liam’s a little young for champagne,” I said, and they laughed.
“No, the champagne’s for us, silly,” Sid said. “To celebrate the fact that you’ve made it through a tumultuous year, and to drink to better times ahead.”
“Amen to that,” I said. “But you don’t need to go to any trouble.”
“You know we love parties. We live for parties,” Sid said. “And we love spoiling Liam. You should see what we’ve got him for his birthday! Such fun.”
I shook my head. “You’re too good to us. And I’ll apologize in advance for my mother-in-law. She’ll be polite but distant.”
Sid looked at Gus and they grinned. “She doesn’t approve of us. We know. We’re used to it. But you approve of us. So does Liam. That’s all that matters.”
Seventeen
So now I had to seek out Dr. Birnbaum, and I hoped I’d be able to do it in the morning, before we started preparing for Liam’s party. I was pretty sure my mother-in-law would want to do all the preparation herself anyway, which would give me time to slip away. It felt good to be involved in Sid and Gus’s case, rather than a passive observer. The only difficulty would be escaping the house against the wishes of my mother-in-law. I realized that I was sounding like one of those females I so despised, a meek little woman under her mother-in-law’s thumb, but I knew she’d complain to Daniel, and I didn’t want him upset or worried at this difficult time. And I did acknowledge that I had not returned to full health by a long way. What with dreams at night and my aching ribs and head by day, I was not up to running all over the city.
Luckily Dr. Birnbaum lived only a couple of streets away, and the next day dawned bright and clear with a crisp hint of fall about it. I heard Mother Sullivan and Bridie leaving for Mass, and Daniel himself left soon after, promising to be home at least for an hour or two in the afternoon. I got up, dressed, and to put everyone in a good mood, I cooked us all a grand breakfast. It was ready and on the table as they came in through the door.
“You shouldn’t have been doing all that work,” Mother Sullivan said. “You’re supposed to be re
sting.”
“It was the least I could do after everything you’re doing for us,” I replied. “And how hard is it to fry bacon, especially now I’ve a nice new stove.”
“I’m not so sure about that gas myself,” Mother Sullivan said. “I’m quite expecting it to explode every time I light the match. Give me a good old-fashioned range any day.”
We ate breakfast, and I was wondering how I could find an excuse to visit Dr. Birnbaum when my mother-in-law herself looked up and said, “That child has been cooped up in the house too long. He needs to be out in the fresh air. Do you think that Bridie is big enough to take him for a walk in his buggy down to the park?”
Bridie jumped up eagerly. “I am big enough,” she said.
“I don’t know about that, Bridie, love,” I said. “It’s difficult to push a buggy over cobbles, and along these sidewalks where there are so many people. Why don’t I come with you? I’m sure I can walk as far as Washington Square. You can do most of the pushing, but it would be good for me to get some fresh air too.” I turned to my mother-in-law. “Won’t you join us? It will be delightful to sit in the square on a day like this.”
Mrs. Sullivan shook her head. “I have to bake Liam’s birthday cake. And I thought I’d make some little scones too.”
“Come for a walk with us and I’ll help you later,” I said. “Besides, my neighbors have said they’ll be bringing food as well.”
I could tell by her expression that was the wrong thing to say. “I doubt that their food will be suitable for the child, and after all, it is his birthday we’re celebrating. And I had my walk to and from Mass this morning.”
Suitably reprimanded, I went to get Liam ready and to put on my hat and gloves.
When we had Liam dressed for an outing and safely strapped into his buggy, we set off. I was glad that Bridie was eager to push, as the bumping of a buggy over the cobbles would certainly have been uncomfortable for me. She did a grand job, and I only took hold of the handle to help her when we had to cross Sixth Avenue and then Waverly Place into Washington Square. The square had been Liam’s favorite outing last spring, before we’d had to leave the city in a hurry, but we hadn’t been back since, and I wondered if he would remember it. But I watched him leaning forward in his buggy making excited noises as he saw the fountain and the bigger children playing there.
We sat on one of the benches, watching the colorful tapestry of life going on there. Bridie looked wistfully at a group of girls, turning a jump rope and chanting as they ran in and out, one by one. I remembered what Mrs. Sullivan had suggested about her going to school, and decided it would be an excellent idea. She needed companionship of her own age, not to be shut away in the country with an old woman. I just hoped that Daniel would agree when I had time to put it to him.
Liam, meanwhile, was fascinated and watched intently as the bigger boys played noisy games. Some of them were running with iron hoops, others engrossed in a battle of spinning tops, just like the boys at home. Yet others were kicking a can around, shouting to each other in high childish voices that were on the verge of breaking. There was such an assortment of people in the park. Families dressed in their Sunday best. Old Italian women, head to toe in black with scarves around their heads, walking on the arms of old men with impressive nicotine-stained mustaches. The boys who were playing kick the can were unwashed and unkempt—part of the general ragtag of unwanted children, earning a crust as crossing sweepers or even petty thieves, but enjoying a carefree game the way children do everywhere.
That brought my thoughts to the street urchin who had delivered that last message to police headquarters, and my own idea to use Bridie’s cousins as my spies. They lived in one of the tenements, if they hadn’t been kicked out of yet another place for unruly behavior and not paying their rent.
“Bridie,” I said as if the idea had just come to me. “You know what I’ve been thinking? I think we should probably pay a visit to your father’s cousin Nuala.”
“Cousin Nuala?” she looked up, horrified. “But she’s horrible.”
“I agree she’s not the nicest person in the world,” I said, “but they are your only relatives and they would want to see you once if you were in town.”
“Do we have to tell them?” She was chewing her lip. “They need never know I’m here.”
“I’ll come with you,” I said. “Just a quick social call. And I was also thinking that perhaps they might have had news of your father and brother, and not known your address to contact you.”
Her face lit up then. “Do you think so? All right, let’s go then.”
I felt a great stab of guilt that I was putting her through this for my own devious ends. I almost called it off, then and there, but it occurred to me that they actually might have had news of Seamus and not been able to pass it along to Bridie. Of course it might not be good news, but it was always better to know, wasn’t it?
“We’ll have to wait a few more days,” I said. “I don’t think I’m up to taking a trolley yet.”
This conversation was interrupted by a squawk of frustration from Liam, still strapped in his buggy but itching to get down to touch the fountain or join the bigger boys.
“You’re not getting out here yet, young man,” I said. “You have to wait until you can walk better. You’ll fall on the gravel and hurt your hands and get dirty.”
I stood up, deciding it was probably time to move on. He started to bawl as we pushed him away, and kept it up until we passed under the arch and began walking along Waverly Place to the Hotel Lafayette, where Dr. Birnbaum had rooms—or had had rooms the last time I had sought him out. That must have been two years ago now. But I had been in this hotel since then … and the full, vivid memory of my night here after the fire came back to me. The terror, the grief, the terrible insecurity and belief that nothing would ever be right again all flooded through me once more as I stood in the foyer, now so tranquil and genteel with its wicker furniture and potted plants. Liam had been sitting contentedly in his buggy until we came through the door, but suddenly he let out a wail and held out his arms to come to me.
“Mama!” he cried. So he remembered too. I unbuckled his straps. “It’s all right, Bridie,” I said. “I’ll hold him.” And I took him into my arms.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” the clerk asked. He recognized me at the same moment that I realized he was the man who had taken care of us on that black night. “Mrs. Sullivan, isn’t it?” He smiled. “It is good to see you again in better circumstances. I trust that all is well now?”
“Absolutely, thank you. I have just moved back into my house.”
“I am so glad to hear it. We were so worried about you at that dreadful time.”
“You were all very kind,” I said. I shifted Liam onto my hip. He had calmed down but was clinging to me like a baby monkey.
“So what can I do for you today?” he asked.
“I’m wondering if Dr. Birnbaum might be available?” I asked.
“I believe he just stepped out,” the clerk said. “Would you care to leave him a message?”
“Thank you. I’ll do that,” I said. I handed Liam to Bridie, who immediately took him over to the window to show him the pigeons on the sidewalk outside.
The clerk found me paper, pen, and ink, and I carried them over to one of the low wicker tables. I had barely started to write when the doorman opened the door and Dr. Birnbaum himself came in. He was looking a little older and more portly than when I last saw him, but he still cut a dapper figure with his neatly trimmed blond beard and well-cut jacket. He stopped in surprise when he saw me.
“Miss Murphy—I mean, Mrs. Sullivan—what a pleasant surprise,” he said in his crisp German-accented English. “You have come to bid me farewell?”
I stood up and shook his outstretched hand. “Farewell? You are going on another trip?”
“I am going home,” he said. “I have just been to bid good-bye to friends. I sail in two days.”
“Oh, that�
�s too bad,” I said.
He shrugged. “I decided I had been away from Germany long enough. I miss my family. And I find that research in Europe is proceeding at a great pace without me. I stagnate here in America, Mrs. Sullivan, while great advances in the study of the mind are being made in Europe. I must be part of them.”
“Of course you must,” I said. “But it’s most unfortunate that you are leaving at this very moment. I came to see you, hoping that you could help me in a distressing matter.”
He shook his head. “My dear Mrs. Sullivan. It seems that every time we meet you are investigating a distressing matter. You are still pursuing your career as a detective?” he asked. “I thought that you put that phase of your life behind you when you married.”
“I did. This is really on behalf of friends.”
Dr. Birnbaum looked around. “Very well. I am not sure how I can be of help to you, but if I can give advice, I will do so. I have a few minutes before my next appointment. Shall we take a cup of coffee together? Anton, could you bring us coffee? We can sit here, out of the way, beside the potted palms.”
I looked over at Bridie and Liam. “I must keep an eye on my son,” I said. “He’s quite a handful at the moment.”
“You have a child now. My congratulations. He looks like a fine, strapping boy,” Dr. Birnbaum said. “We will have Anton bring him a cookie. I find that usually works wonders in keeping children quiet.” He smiled. “One learns a lot in the study of human nature.”
We walked together to a group of chairs around a table in the window of the hotel. Dr. Birnbaum pulled one out for me and sat beside me. “This problem you have? I take it that it has something to do with my field of expertise?”
“It does.” And I gave him the full story of Mabel and the fire and her dreams. “The problem is,” I finished, “that we just don’t know. Is it possible that she killed her parents and then set fire to their room? She seems such a sweet and delicate child and was clearly fond of them.”
“You say your friend is trying to interpret her dreams?”