She sat at her computer in the study, the former courting parlor in the Victorian house, and searched for information about Emmett Flint. His Web site listed all the roles he’d played and his contact information. A section of the site was dedicated to his one-man Poe show, the places where he’d performed it, and quotes from favorable reviews. No recent performances were listed, so he’d either not given the show in the last year or not updated his Web site.
She heard the stairs from the hall to the second floor creak. Granddad must be going upstairs, but why? He rarely ventured up there.
She shrugged, turned her attention back to the computer, and googled Rick Usher. Her search resulted in thousands of hits. She narrowed the time frame for the search, requesting Web pages that had been updated in the last month. She skimmed the results. A few reviews of Usher’s latest book came up, but no sites mentioned recent personal appearances by the author. Too bad. She’d hoped to find a book signing or other event scheduled for him last Saturday, somewhere Emmett Flint might have gone to impersonate the author.
She heard the stairs creaking again, rushed to the hall to intercept her grandfather, and peered at the waffle cloth garment he was carrying. “Long johns, Granddad? Why do you need them?”
He checked his descent and then continued slowly down the staircase, not saying anything until he reached the landing. “We’re expecting a cold snap, maybe even snow late tomorrow. I figured I’d get ready.”
Cold temperatures late tomorrow didn’t explain why he needed long johns now. What’s more, he’d weathered previous cold snaps this season without that extra layer.
He hurried past her toward his bedroom, moving faster than she expected of him this late in the day. He usually fell asleep in front of the television by now. Tonight, he had something to do that required warm clothing. She couldn’t stop him from leaving, but she could tail him and intervene if necessary.
She went up to her bedroom for warmer clothes. Too bad she didn’t have a thermal underlayer like Granddad’s. She donned a sweatshirt on top of her wool sweater. Then she shed her slacks in favor of tights, fleece pants over them, and wool socks. She hurriedly laced her athletic shoes.
Had Granddad slipped away yet? From the window seat on the second floor, she saw his big Buick parked on the street. A compact car pulled up behind it. The night was so dark she could barely make out the silhouettes of the two cars. Then a figure moved along the path from the house to the street. Granddad.
She raced down the staircase, grabbed her parka, and without stopping to put it on, rushed out of the house. He’d just shut the compact’s passenger door behind him when she reached the car. Her bare hand froze on the door handle, and not just because it was ice cold. The car was Bethany’s.
Val flung open the door. “What’s going on?”
A backseat passenger with big teeth barked a reply.
Chapter 10
Val climbed into the backseat of the Hyundai next to Styx, who reluctantly made room for her. Even before she buckled her seat belt, she figured out what was going on. Combine one cadaver dog plus one grandfather who believed a man’s death was being covered up, and what do you get? A hunt for a buried corpse. Granddad must have hatched the scheme after picking her up at Bethany’s house and learning about Styx’s training. Then he’d talked Bethany into it on the phone call he hadn’t wanted Val to overhear.
Val leaned toward the front seat as Bethany started the car. “Please tell me you’re not going to the Usher place.”
“We don’t need you to come along, Val,” Granddad said.
“Yes, you do.” The drive there would give her time to talk him or Bethany into turning around. “You don’t have to do this, Bethany, just because my grandfather—”
“I’m okay with it. I don’t want Styx’s skills to get rusty while he’s staying with me. And your grandfather knows exactly where to search.”
Granddad nodded. “I saw a mound of dirt near the Usher house yesterday. It looked like someone had dug there recently. I want Styx to sniff and give us a sign if someone’s buried there.”
“What kind of sign?” Val said. “Barking?”
Bethany glanced back at her. “Styx doesn’t bark when he sniffs a cadaver. He’s trained to sit as still as a tombstone and he stays put until he gets his treat.”
“Suppose someone in the house looks out the window and sees you?”
“They won’t,” Granddad said. “We’ll park off the property and walk along the gravel road to the circular driveway. The windows are mostly on the back of the house, facing the water. If anyone’s in a front room, they won’t be able to see us in the dark. The moon doesn’t come up tonight until almost eleven. We’ll be finished before then.”
Val foresaw another problem. “They might have motion-detecting flood lights outside, Granddad.”
“If bright lights go on, we’ll just bolt and forget the whole thing.”
Bethany flipped on her high beams as she drove out of Bayport. “Are you absolutely sure they don’t have a dog, Mr. Myer? Styx will bark if another dog barks or comes after us.”
“They used to have a dog, but he died. They haven’t replaced him yet.”
Val leaned toward the front seat. “What if they have a shotgun instead of a dog? Even if they can’t see you in the dark, you can get hit with stray pellets.”
Bethany accelerated. “You’re overly cautious, Val, and really negative. Where’s your sense of adventure?”
Val gnashed her teeth. “Your eye for adventure is bigger than your stomach for it, Bethany. Last fall you roped me into going to the haunted corn maze with you. Once we went inside, you were scared silly.”
“You’re exaggerating, and this is entirely different. We won’t meet any zombies on the Usher property like we did in the maze.” Bethany glanced sideways at Granddad. “We’ll be doing a public service, won’t we, Mr. Myer? If the people who make money off Rick Usher’s books are covering up his death, they shouldn’t get away with it. His fans are being duped.”
Granddad obviously hadn’t told Bethany he’d also duped Usher fans. Styx changed positions and rested his head on Val’s lap.
“I’m glad we’re friends now, Styx.” She petted him. “You won’t meet zombies, Bethany. But you might meet the police, if someone in the house takes you for a prowler and calls 911. You remember what happened last summer when you trespassed, Granddad?”
“Sure. I nailed a murderer.”
But not until Val had stormed in to rescue him. “I hope you have a cover story that’s less lame than the one you used then.”
“Trespassing comes in different flavors. A walk in the woods isn’t the same as sneaking into someone’s house. Our story is we stopped the car because Styx had a call of nature.”
“What’s your explanation for driving on the remote road where the Usher house is located?”
Dead silence.
Bethany waved her hand like a pupil who suddenly thought of an answer. “I can say I’m a Rick Usher fan. When your grandfather told me that the Ushers lived nearby, I wanted to know where, so we took a ride. It’s all true too.”
True, but unconvincing. If Val couldn’t stop this folly, maybe she could convince Granddad to stay out of the way and leave the snooping to her, Bethany, and the dog.
Val petted Styx. “There’s no guarantee they’re all home tonight. Someone might have left for the evening.” Assuming Madison was Maddie the actress, she would have gone to a play rehearsal. The rehearsals ended at ten, putting her back here around ten thirty, three quarters of an hour from now. The sooner this foray onto the Usher property was over, the better. “We’ve got to guard against someone coming back while we’re on the property. You should stay in the car as a lookout, Granddad, while Bethany and I go with Styx.”
“I hate to miss all the action,” he grumbled.
“What action? Styx will sniff and sit down or he’ll walk by the mound of dirt. End of story.” Or so Val hoped.
�
�You’re right. It might be more exciting to act as the lookout,” he said. “I’ll call you if a car turns into the driveway. I juiced up my phone before we left.”
Val dug her phone from the pocket of her sweat pants and switched it from ring to vibrate. “Can you describe exactly where you saw this mound?”
“On the left as you face the house, where the circular driveway meets the gravel road, there are three cone-shape evergreens. The mound is between them and the strip of lawn.”
And how was Val supposed to see the evergreens in the dark? If they couldn’t find the mound, they’d have an excuse to give up. But suppose Styx was successful? “I’m calling the chief if the dog sniffs out human remains.” Fair warning to Granddad not to take his own sleuthing any further.
As they approached the Ushers’ gravel road, he told Bethany to drive past it and make a U-turn. The car would then be facing the right direction for a quick getaway. She parked off the road in a clearing between large bushes, making the car hard for another driver to see.
When Bethany killed the engine, Styx lifted his nose, on the alert.
Granddad passed Val a flashlight. “Don’t use this unless you have to, especially when you’re walking toward the house.”
By daylight the trek along the gravel road to the house would have taken five minutes. Val insisted they walk slowly because the uneven ground could be treacherous in the dark. A twisted ankle would turn this farce into a melodrama.
When her face started turning numb from the cold, she covered her nose and mouth with her gloved hand.
They couldn’t see the house for the trees until they came to the clearing where the road ended and the circular driveway started. Though the front windows were dark, the light from exterior fixtures gave the building a soft glow. The fixtures on the left wing, which jutted toward them, dimly illuminated the conical evergreens and the mound Granddad had mentioned. Too much light for Val’s comfort.
She stepped away from the driveway. “Hug the shrubbery, Bethany, so we’re not as visible from the house. Will Styx sniff around the mound even if you’re not next to him?”
“I think so.” Bethany tugged Styx toward the shrubs.
Val stopped at the conical evergreens. “Tell Styx to get to work.”
Bethany wrapped the leash around her hand and looked the dog in the eye. “Search.” She let up on the leash.
Styx sniffed by the bushes where they stood and then headed toward the woods behind them.
Bethany moved closer to the dirt mound and tightened up on the leash. “No, Styx. Over here.” She pointed to the dirt mound.
Styx followed her, his nose to the ground. She stepped back toward the shrubbery as he reached the mound. He sniffed, walked over it, and kept going toward the lawn edging the driveway. Bethany tugged him back.
“I guess there’s no one buried there,” Val said with relief.
A small animal darted along the driveway. Styx barked and growled. He strained against the leash. Val’s heart raced. What would they do if the dog broke free?
Bethany pulled back on the leash. Styx barked again.
“That’s it, Bethany. We’ve got to leave.” Val kept her eye on the house. “Someone might come out to investigate the barking.”
“You don’t rush out of the house when a dog barks. We should give Styx another chance. Look. He’s sniffing near the mound again.”
“Dogs sniff all the time. You said he sits if he smells a cadaver. He hasn’t done that, so let’s get out of—” Val broke off as light flooded from an open door in the wing. She saw someone standing there in a hooded black robe.
“We’re being watched,” Val hissed. She grabbed the leather leash, wrapped it around her hands, and pulled on it, adding her strength to Bethany’s.
The figure in the robe raised his arms and shook them. “Buried alive!” he roared.
Bethany gave a mighty tug on the leash. “Go, Val. I’ve got Styx.”
Val pulled the flashlight from her pocket and lit the way. No reason for stealth now. She ran to the gravel road. Behind her she heard Bethany’s feet hitting the gravel.
“Buried alive!” a deep voice bellowed. “Buried alive! My poor—”
Val sped up, her head pounding from fear and exertion. The beam from her flashlight bounced as she ran. She heard panting behind her. Styx? Bethany? Or someone else?
Val didn’t dare look back.
Chapter 11
Val’s heart raced until they joined the road where the car was parked.
She opened the rear door, and Styx rocketed into the car. She piled in after him. Granddad gaped at them. Bethany wrenched the driver’s door open, fired up the car, and zoomed off with a lurch.
“What happened?” Granddad said. “You two are panting as loud as the dog.”
Val twisted in the backseat to look out the rear window. No cars were following them or, at least, none with their headlights on. “Slow down, Bethany. You nearly gave me whiplash on your takeoff.”
Granddad looked back at her. “Did Styx find a cadaver?”
“He tried, but no one’s buried under that mound of dirt.” Val petted Styx in case he felt bad about not getting a treat. “Rick Usher’s alive.”
Bethany let up on the accelerator. “So the man who shouted at us was Usher? He sounded like a character from one of his horror books. Tormented. Crazed.”
“Would you two just give me the facts? Where was this man? What did he say?”
Val relaxed in the backseat, her heart rate finally normal. “Here are the bare bones. Styx sniffed the mound, wandered away, and then barked because an animal ran by him. The door opened in the house wing near us. A man stepped outside, raised his fists, and shouted ‘buried alive’ twice. We took off. I didn’t hear what else he said because I was running away as fast as I could.”
Bethany signaled as she approached a turn. “He howled ‘my poor sis’ as we ran away.”
“Sis meaning sister?” Granddad scratched the knit cap that covered his head. “Usher doesn’t have a sister. He’s an only child. It must have been some other man.”
Sister. Val tensed and startled Styx, who was leaning against her leg. “It makes sense. Sort of. Rick Usher doesn’t have a sister, but his namesake, Roderick Usher, had one. In Poe’s story ‘The Fall of the House of Usher,’ Roderick Usher is convinced he buried his sister alive.”
Bethany slowed down. “I like it, Val. It’s poetic justice. I mean, Poe-etic justice. A writer inspired by Poe is trapped inside a story his hero created. It sounds like a plot Rick Usher would come up with.”
“He believes he’s a character in a story?” Granddad said. “Nah.”
“It’s not as crazy as it sounds, Granddad. You are what you read. Rick Usher has spent a lifetime steeped in Poe’s stories about death, guilt, and madness.”
Bethany nodded. “He’s possessed. I mean Poe-sessed. How do you exorcise a dead writer who’s taken over your mind and soul?”
Granddad chuckled. “You use a Poe-tion.”
Val groaned. “Enough with the puns. A shaky mental state would explain why Rick Usher doesn’t go out in public anymore.” And why he needed a stand-in to bolster the fiction that he was still fully functional. “If a man sees two people and a dog in his yard at night, you expect him to yell, What are you doing here? or Get off my property. You don’t expect him to roar, ‘Buried alive’ twice.”
Bethany switched from high beams to low for an oncoming car. “Here’s another idea. He could have been talking about himself. He feels buried alive, imprisoned in his own house, by people who want to keep his mental state a secret. Like the woman locked in the attic in Jane Eyre.”
“The man you saw wasn’t locked in,” Granddad said. “And the dirt was recently turned up. That’s proof he wasn’t talking about himself being buried alive.”
Though the meaning of buried alive was open to interpretation, Val had all the proof she needed that Rick Usher was very much alive.
* * *
>
Back home at the kitchen table, Granddad sipped the hot toddy he’d asked Val to make for him. “I didn’t want to say this in front of Bethany, but she might have messed up the signal she gave Styx.”
Val blew on her peppermint tea to cool it. “What Styx did or didn’t do makes no difference. You wanted to know if Usher was buried there. We know he’s alive because he came out of the house and shouted at us.”
“You don’t know for sure that the man you heard was Usher.”
“Who else? Not Clancy. He sounds like a radio announcer on a classical music station, smooth and subdued. He doesn’t have the pipes to make the rumbling tones we heard tonight.” She sipped her tea. “What kind of voice does Usher have?”
“The man I met there had a deep voice, probably the same man you heard tonight.” Granddad gulped some toddy. “He shouted that someone was buried there. I’ll take a closer look at that dirt tomorrow.”
Val’s fingers tensed on the handle of her mug. “You have no reason to go there. You said you wouldn’t impersonate Usher again.”
“But the folks at the Usher house expect me there. I have to pretend I’m going to pose as Usher until they pay me for the hours I already spent on this. And I want to remind Clancy to get in touch with the agent about my cookbook.”
“Clancy’s quite the go-between. He’s arranging for me to cook dinners for the Ushers.”
Granddad’s eyes popped out. “What?”
She told him about her visit to the Usher house today and her meeting with Rosana. “Clancy called this evening to say the catering contract would be ready tomorrow. He’s bringing it to the café in the morning.”
“There are funny things going on at the Usher place. You’re better off staying away from it.”
“I said something like that to you last night, and you brushed it off. Let’s make a pact. I’ll stay away from the place if you do.”
“Hmph.” He finished his toddy. “Go ahead and cook there for a couple of days, but don’t sign any long-term contract. And ask for double your usual prices. The Ushers have plenty of money.”
The Tell-Tale Tarte Page 9