“I do indeed, both with you and your father. Remember how furious you were whenever one of yours got off on a technicality, or pleaded insanity?”
Daniel nodded. “It’s only when you witness an execution for the first time that you realize what a terrible power you have, and a glimmer of doubt creeps in. Right before they pull the switch to turn on the current, you find yourself wondering if you’ve made a mistake and are killing an innocent person.”
“I’m sure Yeats would have no such qualms,” I said. “He seemed really pleased with himself. He threatened to have Mabel locked up in the Tombs to make her remember. Can you stop him from doing that, Daniel?”
“It’s not my case and he doesn’t report to me,” Daniel said. “But I can have a little chat with him and suggest that he needs to make sure of his facts before he talks about wilful murder. He’d need some kind of proof, not just a hunch.”
“You mean some kind of evidence in the bodies? But they’ll have been buried for a month or more. Will anyone give permission to have the bodies exhumed?”
“If it’s a question of someone being arrested for murder. Yeats would have no case without physical evidence.”
“Can you find evidence in burned and charred bodies?” I asked. “I know you might be able to see a gunshot or a stab wound, but what about poison?”
Daniel considered before speaking, staring out past the kitchen door. “I think a good pathologist could detect something obvious like arsenic in the tissue.”
“But if someone had turned on the gas while they slept? Or if they had been smothered, for example?”
Daniel gave a half snort, half chuckle. “I can’t answer that one, Molly. We can tell a person has been smothered by the broken blood vessels in the eyes and the flush on the face, but if the face is badly charred?” He shook his head. “I’d think not. But you’re not suggesting that a young girl could smother both her parents? They’d struggle. The other would wake up. You need considerable strength to smother someone.”
Mrs. Sullivan gave a little grunt of what I took to be disapproval.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Do you have everything you need? Some more beans?”
“No, thank you,” she said stiffly. “Sit up straight, Bridie.”
We sat for a moment in silence. But I couldn’t leave well enough alone. I had to make the most of having Daniel to talk to, for once. “Well, I’m thankful you’re going to put pressure on that obnoxious Yeats person to exhume the bodies. At least then we’ll know more.”
Daniel drained his beer glass and put it down. “You realize that might not go well for your young girl,” he said. “If it transpires that her parents were killed or drugged first, it will be assumed that she did it. It will be taken as proof that she’s guilty.”
“Unless the form of death was impossible for a young girl to carry out.”
Daniel’s eyebrows raised. “You are now talking of killing by person or persons unknown? That has never been mentioned before, has it?”
“No, it hasn’t,” I said.
“So you’re now suggesting that a stranger managed to gain access to a house that had servants in it, made his way upstairs, and killed two people in their beds, before setting fire to the house? What would the motive be, Molly, since this possibility has never come up before?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But maybe I should have a talk with Mrs. Hamilton, the girl’s aunt. She might know of a family feud, or another reason that someone might have wanted Mabel’s parents dead.”
Daniel shook his head. “It would take a significant family feud to cause someone to kill two people before setting fire to their house. That sort of thing doesn’t normally happen to respectable middle-class people.”
“It happened to us,” I said. “I would never have believed it either, but it did happen to us.”
“My circumstances are rather different,” Daniel said. “I was dealing with a ruthless gang at the time. They were trying to teach me a lesson. What did Mabel’s father do? What was his profession?”
“I don’t know, but it was something respectable and middle class, I expect. Mrs. Hamilton didn’t mentioned it. But Mabel’s mother came from a wealthy banking family. Her name was Susan Masters. Does that mean anything to you?”
“Masters?” He paused. “Of Deveraux and Masters? Yes, I’m familiar with that firm. Merchant bankers on Wall Street, I think. But banking is usually only a dangerous profession if one is the clerk behind the counter at the time of a robbery.” He grinned. Then his face became serious again. “I think you should leave well enough alone, Molly,” he said. “And besides, this speculation does not address the primary piece of evidence—how did the girl escape without any signs of having been in a fire?”