Hush Now, Don't You Cry(88)

“Were you staying here when he died?” one asked. “If you were, my newspaper has authorized me to pay one hundred dollars for a first person account.”

Tempting as this was I declined politely and indicated that the policeman should open the gate for us. Of course they had not seen Sid and Gus before so I had explaining to do before they would finally let us in. It was only then that alarming suspicions arose.

“Nothing new has happened, has it?” I asked. “No new tragedy while we’ve been out?”

“Not that I know of, miss,” he said. “But my chief can probably set you to rights. He’s in there talking with the family now.”

The gate clanged shut behind us and we walked briskly toward the cottage. I couldn’t shake the worrying thoughts and had to stop myself from breaking into a run.

“Molly, slow down,” Sid called. “I’m sure Daniel is just fine.”

As the cottage came into view I saw someone standing at the front door. It was Chief Prescott and he was facing Daniel’s mother. She was half his size but she was holding the fort admirably.

“I don’t care who you are. The doctor said no visitors and no excitement and I’m going to make sure he gets his peace and quiet,” I heard her say as we went up the path. Chief Prescott turned to see us coming and I saw relief flood over his face.

“Mrs. Sullivan. How good to see you. I had wanted a word with your husband but this lady doesn’t seem to understand that this is a crime investigation and that I have to speak with people, even if they are sick.”

“I’m sorry, Chief Prescott,” I said, “but my mother-in-law is quite right. The doctor did forbid any kind of excitement or stimulation. My husband is still very weak and not out of danger yet. Is there anything I can help you with? Would you care to come inside?”

“I don’t believe so, Mrs. Sullivan. Actually I wanted your husband’s opinion on the latest developments—policeman to policeman, so to speak.”

“He may have recovered enough to speak with you tomorrow,” I said. “Has something else occurred? I saw that the place is crawling with your men.”

“They are just to keep the newshounds at bay,” he said. “I’m afraid word got out to New York that the alderman had been poisoned. I’m not sure who spilled the beans. My men were instructed to remain silent. It must have been one of the family.”

He was looking at me in a way that indicated he thought maybe I was the one who squealed. “These things have a way of leaking out, don’t they?” I said, eyeing him coldly. “I can’t shed any light, I’m afraid. I’ve hardly spoken with the family,” I said.

“I have just come from interviewing them and I have the impression that they are deliberately being unhelpful. They are very good at claiming to know nothing and providing the alibi for each other. It’s like facing a brick wall.”

“So what are the latest developments?” I asked. “Not another death?”

“Nothing like that. But we’ve ascertained that the prussic acid we found in the shed was used for the crime. At least we can surmise that it was because both the packet and jar were wiped clear of fingerprints. Somebody didn’t have time to put on gloves and had to make sure there was no incriminating evidence. So I would have to surmise that it must have been a family member or one of their staff—because what outsider would know that there was prussic acid in a shed?”

“I agree,” I said. “Unless he went into an outbuilding to hide until dark and noticed the jar containing the prussic acid on the shelf.”

“Rather a long shot, don’t you think?” His smile was condescending. “A man comes here with the intention of killing Brian Hannan but hasn’t thought out the method until he spots the prussic acid on a shelf? I don’t think I could go with that.”

“You’re probably right,” I agreed. “It is a long shot.”

“So if I could just speak with your husband for a few minutes. He’d want to be apprised of this, I know.” He was now attempting to open the front door.

He was beginning to annoy me. I suppose it was the condescending smile that did it. “I will pass along this information to my husband as soon as he seems well enough,” I said.

He hesitated. “I had hoped he might share a little expertise, you know. He’s obviously faced murders more frequently than I have. I can only remember two other deaths since I’ve been police chief and one of those was a drunken fight between sailors. I’m going to have to play one family member against another to extract a confession, Mrs. Sullivan. I think they must know more than they are telling me. But they are remaining stubbornly close-lipped and I can’t keep them all here indefinitely. I got an earful from Joseph Hannan about how I’m wrecking his business by keeping him here.”