Hush Now, Don’t You Cry (26 page)

“How frightfully thrilling,” Sid said. “A hidden child who murdered her twin. How terribly gothic.”

“Sid, it’s not a subject for amusement,” Gus gave her a disapproving frown. “You can see that Molly is distressed.”

“I am most concerned about it,” I said. “The housekeeper is terrified that the girl will be sent back to an insane asylum when it’s discovered she’s in the house. And she’s sure they’ll think she murdered her grandfather.”

“Because she pushed her sister over a cliff at the age of four?” Sid said. “What child has not wanted to get rid of an adored sibling? I know I often wished I could make my brother disappear. Has she demonstrated more murderous tendencies since?”

“She has only been with the housekeeper and seen her grandfather occasionally,” I said. “She seemed a docile, timid little thing to me.”

“Then why would the family want to pin the crime on her?” Sid persisted.

“Because she makes a perfect scapegoat. And the family would rather think that she was the culprit rather than one of them.”

“What a charming family,” Gus remarked as she reached for the marmalade. “To know there might be a murderer in their midst and yet to let a child take the blame for it.”

“This is only what Mrs. McCreedy fears,” I corrected hastily. “She may be quite wrong, of course. They may want to do the right thing and find the true culprit. Although from what I witnessed of them, they were most anxious to find a mysterious outsider and thus exonerate themselves.”

“Only natural,” Sid said. “Nobody wants to believe there is a black sheep in their own family, especially not a murderer.”

“So you can see my dilemma.” I looked first at Gus and then at Sid. “I should tell Daniel about the girl, and he would undoubtedly want me to report it to the police. Then the family will know and it will all be over for Kathleen.”

“But how do you know whether she is guilty or not?” Sid asked. “You say she can escape from her tower at will. Who is to say she didn’t give her grandfather a timely push.”

“That much I could believe, but not the part with the cyanide. Think about it, Sid—to find a jar containing cyanide in a shed, be able to read the label, know what it is, and slip some into his glass of whiskey—no, I can’t go along with that. She’s still a little child, Sid. She sits hugging her doll and talking to it in gibberish.”

“Did you say she calls the doll by her sister’s name?” Gus looked up suddenly.

“She does.”

“Then she’s probably speaking to it in the language of twins.”

“Is there such a thing?” I asked.

Gus nodded. “Oh, yes. I went to a lecture about it recently. It appears that twins frequently communicate with each other in a secret language known only to themselves. You say it was gibberish but I expect her language has its own vocabulary and syntax known only to her twin.”

“Fascinating,” I said. “But I don’t know how one would unlock the key, when she doesn’t speak apart from that.”

“It would take a specialist,” Sid said.

“I was thinking of asking Dr. Birnbaum to see her,” I said. “He is the expert on diseases of the mind, isn’t he?”

“And what would you hope he’d accomplish?” Sid asked. “To have her proved sane? If she’s sane, then she knew what she did and she’s evil. If she’s not sane, then she’s not responsible. So think carefully before you tread, Molly.”

“I know. It’s such a great dilemma. I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t wish to sound callous,” Sid said. “But this really isn’t your problem, Molly. Haven’t you enough to worry about with your husband’s grave illness? Surely your first duty is to him.”

“But you know me. I can’t sit by and let an injustice happen. But I shouldn’t keep my discovery from my husband and the law, should I?” I looked at them again. “Tell me, what would you do if you were me?”

“As I see it,” Sid said slowly, “if you really want to do something for this girl, then do it. You’re right that you shouldn’t keep anything as major as this from your husband. However, you don’t have to tell him at this exact moment. In fact it would not be wise. He’s been gravely ill. You would not want to upset him with startling news like this. So for his own good you decide to keep the news from him.”

I had to laugh. “Sid, you are devious.”

“Just pragmatic. And in the meantime, if you want to rescue this girl, you could find out who really killed Brian Hannan.”

“And how would I do that?”

“You’re a detective, aren’t you? You’ve solved difficult cases.”

“But I’ve kept my eyes open and tried to quiz family members and got nowhere so far.”

“Then you need to find out who had the best reason for wanting him dead.”

“But that would mean going to New York and poking around in his business and Tammany Hall and the family home…”

“You could do that,” Sid said, sounding enthusiastic now. “We’re here. We’ll watch over Daniel for you. And you can talk to your Dr. Birnbaum at the same time. See what he has to say.”

“I would like to do that. But as for finding the true killer—I wonder if the family members really know and are just clamming up, or that they don’t know and they are frightened to find out?”

Gus had been sitting silent for a while. Suddenly she said. “Did anyone actually witness this child pushing her sister off the cliff?”

“I believe so.”

“Pity,” she said. “Because if they didn’t, then maybe the same person has killed more than once.”

I stared at Gus across the table. Morning sunlight now streamed in through the long windows, making Gus a silhouette against the brightness. “You’re suggesting that a family member killed the little girl, then Brian Hannan?”

“One has to wonder if they are not somehow linked. The same area of cliff, you said. Two family members dying in the same manner. And then there is the reason that Brian Hannan invited you to be able to observe his family. Had he discovered some disturbing fact about a family member and wanted Daniel to confirm it?”

I stared at the ocean beyond Gus, watching a sleek white yacht sailing far out to sea. “He did say one thing. He said to Daniel that he thought he might have got it wrong. But he never explained what ‘it’ was.”

“What if ‘it’ were the circumstances surrounding his granddaughter’s death?”

“But why would that come up now, after all this time?” I asked. “What could he possibly have discovered that made him question what happened when she died?”

“You’re the detective,” Sid said. “You can find out.”

“I don’t see how I can,” I said. “I have no authority to question the family and even if I did, they wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“Then go to New York. Mr. Hannan might have left some kind of clue there—he might have confided in a friend or an employee.”

I shook my head. “Daniel might be furious if he knew I was doing my own investigation,” I said.

“Daniel need never know. If you find out anything valuable you turn it over to the police, anonymously if necessary. The local policeman is a hero and justice prevails,” Sid said.

“He might notice if his wife is missing for a couple of days,” I pointed out.

“Take the early train tomorrow,” Sid said. “There is a fast train at six o’clock. The cottage owners take it when they have to attend to business in New York. You’d have a full day there and be back that night.”

I gave a nervous laugh. “I can’t be expected to solve a crime in a day. Even Sherlock Holmes couldn’t do that.”

“No, but you might find out something that puts you on the right track. We’ll go over to amuse Daniel.”

“And how will you explain my absence?”

“We’ll think of something,” Sid said with an expansive shrug.

“How about poor Molly was exhausted after nursing you through your crisis so we’re giving her a day off,” Gus suggested. “What could be more simple?”

I nodded. “He might accept that. So I’ll go tomorrow then, if Daniel continues to make sufficient progress for me to leave him with a clear conscience.”

“And in the meantime have you talked to the family members about the child’s death? Have you observed their reactions?”

“They’ve been forbidden to speak of her. All traces of her have been removed from the house.”

“All the more reason to do so now,” Sid said. “Ask them questions and you’ll jolt them out of their complacency. They may say things they didn’t mean to.”

“Sid, it’s you who should be the detective, not I.” I laughed.

“I think I’d be rather good at it,” Sid said.

“I’m not having you risking your life, the way Molly has,” Gus said firmly. Sid patted her arm.

“So tell us,” Sid leaned toward me. “If it’s a family member, whom do you suspect?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Go through them, one by one.”

“All right,” I said. “Archie Van Horn and his wife, Irene. She’s Brian’s daughter. Brian doted on her. Only child. She wouldn’t have pushed her own daughter over a cliff or killed her beloved father. Archie wouldn’t have killed the goose that laid their golden eggs.”

“Who else can we eliminate?”

“Brian Hannan’s sister Mary and his brother Patrick. She is a comfortable middle-aged woman. A simple soul. Loves her grandson. Wouldn’t know about poisons. The same goes for Brian’s brother the priest, Father Patrick. Rather shy and unworldly. He’d have no reason to want his brother dead.”

“See we’re eliminating people left, right, and center,” Sid said. “Who else can we strike off?”

“Joseph Hannan’s daughter, Eliza,” I said. “She’s the sort of person you’d like. A do-gooder. You may even know her. Works among the poor, and in the temperance movement.”

Sid laughed. “No, I can’t say we’re big proponents of the temperance movement, are we, Gus? We enjoy a good wine too much.”

“But I think we can strike off Eliza. I can’t see any reason she’d want to kill her great uncle.”

“Which brings us to the likely suspects,” Sid said. “How many of them are there?”

“Well, I suppose Joseph Hannan, who was Brian’s brother and business partner. Daniel suspected the company was involved in some shady deals and Brian had recently left the running of the company to Joseph. Perhaps Joseph didn’t want Brian to know what he’d been doing.”

“But that wouldn’t tie in to the little girl,” Gus pointed out.

“Maybe it doesn’t tie in,” I said. “Maybe Colleen’s death was as described and the fact that Brian was found in the same spot is purely coincidental.”

“Go on with the suspects,” Sid said. “After Joseph Hannan?”

“His son, Terrence. He’s a likable young man. A lot of fun at parties. Reminds me of our friend Ryan O’Hare—witty, debonair.”

“But—” Gus said.

“But I wouldn’t say trustworthy. Likes the easy life. Doesn’t want to work. And I think I saw him slinking from the house around the time that Brian was murdered. At least he’s tall and slim and his father is a good deal stockier.”

“He’d be a good suspect,” Gus agreed. “Uncle was forcing him to work, maybe cutting off his funds, so he seized the moment.”

“I’ve got a wonderful idea,” Sid said. “Go to see Brian’s attorney, Molly. What if Brian was about to change his will—cutting out Terrence, for example. That would force the family member to take action before the new will was signed.”

“Good thought,” I said. “I’ll look into it.”

“Have we finished? Is that the entire Hannan family at last?”

“There is a great nephew, Sam,” I said. “Also a likely candidate. His own family situation is not the best—drunken and useless Irish father, beats up his mother. Sam was involved with a gang, so Brian Hannan took charge of him and has put him to work as messenger boy in his business. He was the one who discovered the body and Daniel says that murderers often draw people to the scene of the crime.”

“Yes, he sounds suspicious,” Gus nodded.

“It’s hard to say,” I said. “I can’t believe any of them could have had anything to do with the little girl’s death. And they all seem genuinely shaken about Brian Hannan. Maybe it was an outsider after all.” And I told them about the man who had appeared at the gate, wanting to know if Brian Hannan had arrived yet.

“It seemed clear that he had followed Mr. Hannan from New York,” I said. “But the police were not able to find him the next day. Maybe he went back to New York on the early train.”

“Of course Hannan was a public figure, wasn’t he?” Gus said. “Such people do expose themselves to crackpots.”

“But what about the tray of liquor and the two glasses,” I said. “Brian Hannan was clearly going to have a drink with somebody he knew.”

Sid patted my shoulder. “Go to New York and find out what you can, Molly. Otherwise you’ll never be satisfied.”

Twenty-eight

I felt guilty as I hurried back to Daniel. I had left him longer than I intended to. What if he’d awoken and needed me and I wasn’t there? What if he’d taken a sudden turn for the worse? I glanced at that house across the street as I reached the gate. I’d have dearly loved to interview the person behind those drapes, but I had to check on my husband first. I opened the cottage door to the smell of bacon frying. An hour ago it would have been a delicious aroma. Having just had my fill of breakfast, it had lost its appeal.

“I’m back,” I called to Martha.

She looked out of the kitchen. “Breakfast is ready when you are. I told Mr. Sullivan that you’d gone out for an early morning walk and that I’d have a good meal ready for you on your return. He didn’t want much himself. Just a boiled egg and toast. I told him he needed to build up his strength again. He’s still looking awful peaky.”

I turned and ran up the stairs. Daniel was sitting propped up in bed. He did still look rather frail. The healthy tone had gone from his skin and his eyes were still a little sunken. But he gave me a grand smile as I came into the room.

“Ah, there you are. I wondered where you’d gone.”

“Out for a little walk. It’s such a lovely day and you were sleeping like a baby, so I left you in Martha’s capable hands,” I said.

“She was trying to stuff me full of food,” he complained. “I told her I had no appetite.”

I looked at the boiled egg, only half eaten with the yolk now congealed down the side of the shell.