Hush Now, Don't You Cry(93)

“Miss Murphy, or should I say Mrs. Sullivan, what a delightful surprise.” He took my hand, then seated himself opposite me. “To what do I owe this early morning call?”

I told him, trying to put everything as clearly as possible. He listened, not looking at me but toying with the crumbs on the table. Only when I had finished did he look up at me.

“A most fascinating case, Mrs. Sullivan. The relationship between twins has always intrigued me. And a separate language…”

“So you will come and see her?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I could only examine her at the request of her parents. She does have parents and a family, doesn’t she?”

“But they haven’t even visited her in years. They believe her to be in an insane asylum. I could take you up to her so that they’d never know.”

He shook his head this time. “Mrs. Sullivan. I am required to follow a strict code of ethics in my profession. Much as I would like to see the young girl, I reiterate that the parents would have to invite me first.”

“If she had been confined to an asylum?”

“Then I could only see her at the invitation of the director of the institution.”

I sighed. “If you saw her, do you think there is anything you could do to help her?”

“I couldn’t say that without observing for myself. From what you tell me the shock of her sister’s death has put her into a catatonic state from which she chooses not to emerge. Maybe I could bring her out of it, maybe not.”

“But do you think it’s likely that she really did kill her sister deliberately, when one of the relatives tells me that they adored each other?”

He smiled, sadly. “Children sometimes do things on impulse, things that they regret later. I remember that my brother killed our puppy because it bit him. He knocked it across the room because his hand was bleeding and he was angry and scared. He hadn’t mean to kill it, however, and wept bitterly. Perhaps one twin said something that annoyed the other, making her react and give the other girl a shove, not realizing how close they were to the clifftops.”

“But do you think it would be possible that she actually did mean her twin to fall to her death?”

“Oh, yes,” he said. “It would be quite feasible. You say the other girl was popular and pretty. She might have had anger building up inside for a long time. Or it might have been an impulse on the spur of the moment, lashing out the way children do. Of course, she regretted it instantly but it was too late.”

“And do you think that was the action of an insane person?”

“Oh, no, quite the opposite. I think that would have been the action of a normal child. I think we have all wanted at times to be the only child, to rid ourselves of annoying siblings. Only this one acted, with devastating consequences.”

“Then let me ask you one more thing,” I said as he sipped his coffee. “Do you think that such a child, a child whose mentality seems to be frozen at the age of four, could also manage to poison and kill her grandfather?”

“To poison? I think that unlikely. Tell me, was the child known to be devious, sneaky?”

“Not that I heard. Shy, sullen; but not sneaky.”

“I have to say that poison requires a degree of sophistication that would probably be beyond a child such as you have described. How would she know where poison was kept? How would she know the correct amount? And you say it was potassium cyanide? My dear Mrs. Sullivan. It was more likely to have killed her when she handled it. Just to inhale it or to get some inadvertently on her fingertips could be fatal.”

I felt a tremendous wave of relief. I had never believed that Kathleen had killed her grandfather, but to hear this confirmation was wonderful. I don’t know why I was fighting so strongly on her behalf, but I have always been a champion of the underdog. The question now was—had she really killed her sister?





Thirty-two

I left Dr. Birnbaum and went straight to Alderman Hannan’s office. It was on Broad Street, near the new Stock Exchange building. I had found that out easily enough by chatting with Mary Flannery who lived not far away on Water Street. I didn’t know the number but it would be easy enough to ask for directions when I got there. Another ride on the El and I alighted at Hanover Square station. Men in tailed coats hurried up and down the steps between the marble pillars of the Stock Exchange building. I walked along Broad Street, examining the brass plates on nearby walls and found that the office was in another new building, a veritable skyscraper all of twelve stories high. And Alderman Hannan’s office was on the twelfth floor. I rode the elevator with some trepidation. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to those things. That creaking, grinding little cage going slowly up a dark shaft inspires in me an unnatural terror and I was breathing hard when the attendant slid open the door for me and said, “Top floor.”