“Only if you have proof the dog and Emmett died from the same cause,” the chief said.
And if the police would dig up Cicero, they might get the proof, Val thought.
“I just remembered something,” Granddad chimed in. “Usher told me he used to give Cicero leftovers because Rosana only fed him dog food. When everyone else was having dessert or coffee in the dining room, Usher would sneak into the kitchen and scrape whatever was still on the plates into the dog’s dish. He could have done that on Saturday, even though he didn’t eat lunch with the rest of them. Emmett’s leftovers went into Cicero’s dish on Saturday. That’s why the dog died.”
Val gave Granddad a thumbs-up. He’d given her a lead into her next point. “Now we come to the second clue, the dish. How did the killer get the pills into Emmett’s food and no one else’s? In the Usher house meals are served restaurant style, plated in the kitchen and brought to the table. In the absence of a chef or caterer, Rosana nukes the food, Madison plates and serves, and Clancy cleans up after the meal. But Madison wasn’t there for lunch when Emmett was. Either Rosana or Clancy put the food on Emmett’s dish and placed it in front of him.”
Granddad grimaced. “Each one will say the other one did it. It’s a toss-up.” He accelerated as the car in front of them turned off. “What’s the third clue, Val? The book? The one Usher was looking for?”
“Right. Emmett asked Madison and Clancy to look for a rare book he was convinced Rick Usher had stolen. If one of them told the Ushers that Emmett was looking for proof of theft or if Emmett himself mentioned the book on Saturday, Rosana would eliminate the threat to her husband’s reputation. She’s dedicated her life to Rick Usher. But there’s another—”
“Wait a minute,” the chief said. “You claimed Rick Usher would be the next victim. If his wife committed a murder to save his reputation, why would she turn around and murder him?”
“The bug!” Granddad jerked on the wheel, swerved onto the shoulder, and then steered back onto the asphalt. “It could have happened like this. A couple of days after she murders to protect her husband, she listens to the recording from the bug she planted in her husband’s study. She hears him tell me he doesn’t trust her to be his literary executor. He says he wants to find his son and asks me to arrange for a lawyer behind her back. After all those years of loyalty to him, Rosana figures he’s going to change his will in someone else’s favor. There’s her motive.”
Val had reservations about Granddad’s theory. “I’d be surprised if Rosana could set up a computer to access the recordings. She relies on Madison to do the most basic things on a computer. Whoever planted the bug, Chief, should have the recordings downloaded on a computer somewhere in the house.” All he needed was a search warrant.
The chief grunted. “Planting a bug doesn’t prove anyone’s a murderer. You haven’t convinced me yet. What else have you got?”
“Online rumors that Rick Usher was too ill to write anymore. Several blogs posted that information in late spring and summer of last year. Gunnar’s techie friend traced them all back to Emmett, who used false identities online. He claimed Usher didn’t write the books that appeared under his name. Emmett promoted the lies on Facebook and Twitter. Why would he do that? What benefit did he get?”
“Telling lies online is its own reward for lots of folks,” the chief said. “They get their kicks from it.”
He had a point, Val admitted to herself. “Except for that online campaign against Rick Usher, Emmett didn’t engage in blogging or social media, according to Gunnar’s computer expert. Someone must have helped him set up the fake online trails and told him where and what to post.”
“Madison spends all her time online.” Granddad frowned. “Clancy could have done it too. People their age grew up with computers.”
The chief cut in, saying, “I need facts, not speculation.”
Val noticed congestion ahead and hoped it wouldn’t delay them too much. “If Rick Usher’s fans believe that someone else is writing his books for him, Clancy is the likeliest person who would have written them. He’s been Usher’s only coauthor for the last few years and would be the obvious writer to take over his series. Emmett’s online campaign started about the time he met with Rick Usher. Emmett wanted Usher’s permission to create a show based on his works. Clancy arranged a meeting between them, possibly in return for Emmett spreading rumors online.”
“They exchanged favors.” Granddad steered into the faster-moving left lane. “Why did Clancy need Emmett to spread those rumors when he could have done it himself under fake identities?”
The chief said, “He must have known he’d leave a digital footprint. Why would Clancy kill the man who did a favor for him?”
“Emmett made demands on Madison, threatening to reveal a secret he knew about her. That’s how he treated people. He probably threatened to tell the Ushers who was behind those online rumors unless Clancy buckled to his demands. I don’t know what those demands were, but Clancy got rid of the man who had a hold over him.”
By now Granddad was speeding along Route 50. “He’s sitting pretty with the Ushers now. He’s making money from the books he writes with Rick. I don’t understand why you expect Clancy to kill Rick Usher.”
“The Ushers pay him a flat fee for his work, lower than the going rate. He doesn’t share in the success of the books he writes.” Val glanced at her watch. They were making good time, but would they get to the cemetery soon enough? “Assuming Clancy’s the one who bugged the study, he heard Rick Usher scorn him as a writer and a literary executor. He also learned Usher wanted to contact both his son and a lawyer. Clancy had to act quickly, before Usher designated his son or someone else as the executor.”
Granddad’s face lit up. “He figured he’d be out on his ear before long.”
“What would Clancy get out of being the literary executor, Val?” Chief Yardley said.
“The right to negotiate contracts for Rick Usher’s intellectual property and take a big fee. He could also resurrect unfinished manuscripts, finish them, and make royalties on them. He could write new books with Usher’s popular characters in them and collect royalties he could otherwise only dream of.”
Granddad slowed down for traffic. “You can’t rule out Rosana. The book is her motive. The blogs are his. Still a toss-up.”
Val had no doubt about Clancy’s guilt. But she could use uncertainty about the culprit as an argument for the chief to go to Poe’s grave. “Both Rosana and Clancy will be at the cemetery. The question is which of them will hand Usher a bottle of cognac laced with beta blockers. If you’re there, Chief, you can prevent a second murder and solve the first one.”
“I’ll talk to the Baltimore PD.” The chief hung up.
Whether or not he showed up at the cemetery, Val and Granddad would be there. She researched their destination on her smart phone during the rest of the ninety-minute drive to the city. The cemetery, dating from the late eighteenth century, wrapped around the First Presbyterian Church. The burial ground and the Gothic church, now converted into an event venue, belonged to the University of Maryland. Its law school and its medical facilities loomed over the historic property. Visitors were welcome in the burial grounds until dusk, when the gates were locked.
The sun was setting by the time Granddad parked in a garage a block from the cemetery. He estimated they’d have half an hour until dusk. Val spotted a row of motorcycles in the garage, two of them the same make and size as the one Simone’s son drove.
She and Granddad hurried along Fayette Street toward the cemetery. With the sun down, the temperature had plummeted and the wind increased. Granddad put up the hood of his parka and Val wrapped the shawl around her head and neck. They paused outside the iron gates to the burial ground.
He pointed to a marble monument about seven feet high just inside the gates. “There’s where Poe is buried.”
Even from outside the gates, Val could clearly see a bust of Poe set into the monument’s fa�
�ade. She’d envisioned Poe resting in a quieter spot, rather than close to a busy intersection. Though people hurried along the sidewalk, no one was visiting Poe’s grave, even on his birthday. “Where is everybody? I didn’t expect us to be the only ones here.” She felt queasy. Could she have been wrong about where the Ushers were going tonight and about an impending murder attempt?
“I’ll bet they’re at the other Poe grave.”
“What? Poe has two graves? Did they bury part of him in one spot and the rest elsewhere?” That scenario belonged in a Rick Usher horror story.
“His original gravesite is back behind the church.” Granddad cocked his head toward the church. “A couple of decades after Poe’s death, folks took up a collection to erect a monument and moved him here. Then they put up a headstone where he was first buried.”
“Doubles everywhere. Two Poe graves. Two Usher impersonators.” And soon, two murder victims, unless they prevented it. Val’s stomach clenched. “Is there a gate closer to the other grave?”
Granddad shook his head. “We gotta go between the raised tombs and the burial vaults to get there. You ready?”
Val surveyed the brick path with Poe’s tomb on the right and a tall obelisk on the left. High tombs and vaults lined the path as it continued toward the back of the graveyard. A daunting path for a claustrophobic. Val took a deep breath and noticed movement near the church ten yards to the left. Two couples faced a woman in a long, black coat with a fur-trimmed hood. The woman, who looked like a tour guide, gestured toward the church’s tower. Val caught a glimpse of her face. Madison was pretending to be a guide, probably to keep visitors from going to Poe’s gravesite behind the church.
She clutched Granddad’s sleeve. “Madison’s near the church steps. She isn’t looking this way now. Hurry and hide behind the obelisk.”
Val dashed after him. The lower part of the stone pillar was broad enough to conceal both of them from the view of anyone near the church. She peeked around the obelisk to check if Madison was coming closer. No, her back was to them.
“All clear?” Granddad said.
“Go for it.” She waited until he was past the point where he could be seen from the church steps. Then she sprinted after him.
“This path will take us to Poe’s grave,” he said.
Two teenage girls hurried toward them from the rear of the graveyard. “You’d better turn around. We just saw the ghost of Edgar Allan Poe,” one of them panted.
“Thanks. We’ll risk it,” Val said.
The girls ran around them and toward the cemetery gate. Maybe they’d seen the Poe look-alike, Usher’s son.
The path curved to the left around the church. Val slowed down when she spotted a man twenty feet ahead of them. His black clothes made him hard to see in the dimming light. He cut off the brick path and made his way between the raised slabs and tombstones punctuating the grounds. Viewing him from the side, Val glimpsed a white scarf knotted at his throat, his dark moustache, and his longish hair. Raven Wingard.
“He looks like Edgar Allan Poe,” Granddad whispered. “That’s the ghost those girls saw.”
“No, that’s Usher’s son. I told you he looked like Poe.”
Raven was swinging a bottle in his hand as he slipped between two burial vaults.
“He’s taking a different way to Poe’s grave,” Granddad said.
Val hurried after Raven and followed him into a narrow path between two rows of vaults. Granddad kept pace with her. She lost sight of Raven as the path ended in a clearing. A man wearing black, but without a white scarf, stood before a tombstone, his back to them. Even without seeing his face, Val knew he had to be Rick Usher. She’d expected someone else to accompany him and hand him a bottle of cognac, watching as he touched it to his lips. Then, in the nick of time, either the police or she and Granddad would intervene.
It wasn’t playing out that way. In the fading light Rick Usher stood alone before the tomb. Where were Rosana, Madison, and Clancy? And where was Raven?
Val scanned the graveyard. Several vaults were taller than she was, though most men would have to crouch to stay hidden.
Rick Usher raised a bottle high in a toast.
As she waited for him to give an eloquent toast, he lowered the bottle and drank from it.
“Stop!” Val yelled. She rushed forward and saw a figure in black creeping out from behind a vault to her right.
Someone rammed into her from the left, knocked the wind out of her, and sent her sprawling. She tried to break her fall with her hand. Her left wrist twisted under her. She rolled onto her back and flexed her wrist. Pain shot up her arm.
Granddad bent over her. “Val! Are you okay?”
“Yes. Hurry. Grab Usher’s bottle.”
She sat up, her head swimming, and scrambled unsteadily to her feet. As she focused, she saw Clancy grappling with Raven.
“Get out of my way!” Raven dropped his bottle. It landed on soft ground and tipped over. He lunged at Clancy, who dodged.
Rick Usher watched them aghast and backed up toward Poe’s tombstone. Granddad seized the bottle from Rick’s hand. Rosana rushed toward her husband.
Clancy and Raven circled each other, their fists raised.
Raven held up his open hands in a surrender gesture. “Truce? Okay?”
“Okay.” Clancy started toward Poe’s grave and stooped to pick up the bottle Raven had dropped. He whirled around and smashed it over Raven’s head. Glass flew in all directions.
Raven staggered, holding his head. Clancy advanced on him with the jagged edge of the bottle.
“Clancy! Stop it!” Rosana yelled.
Val feared another murder. She ripped off her shawl, rushed up behind Clancy, and threw it over his head. Raven stumbled.
“Police! Don’t move!”
Two uniformed police officers stood at the periphery of the graveyard with Chief Yardley.
Only one person budged after the officer bellowed his command. Rick Usher slumped down, hugging Poe’s gravestone.
Chapter 27
Although standing still, Val felt as if she were spinning because of the activity all around her. One Baltimore police officer bent over Rick Usher.
The other officer told everyone again not to move. He helped Usher’s son up, led him to a raised grave slab, and sat him down. Raven held his blood-soaked white scarf to his head.
Rosana wrung her hands. “Rick always planned to die here at Poe’s grave,” she wailed.
The officer checking him looked up at her. “He’s breathing, ma’am. We’ve called 911. The university hospital’s a block away. He’ll get the best possible care there.”
Clancy stood motionless with Val’s black shawl over his head until Chief Yardley approached him and asked him to identify himself. The chief pulled the shawl from his head and handed him off to two officers who’d just arrived as reinforcements.
The chief took Val and Granddad aside to find out what had happened. He then spoke to the officer in charge, who took custody of the cognac bottle Granddad had taken from Rick Usher. The chief told Val and Granddad to walk to the emergency room at the university hospital, have a doctor look at Val’s wrist, and wait there for him. The Baltimore police would need statements from them.
Val got her shawl back before a guard conducted her and Granddad through the dark cemetery to the gate. On the way, they passed the arriving EMTs.
Madison in her fur-trimmed black coat stood on the sidewalk outside the gate. “What’s happening in there, Val?”
“Rick fell unconscious after drinking a toast to Poe.”
Madison’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, no! Will he be okay?”
Granddad patted her shoulder. “There’s a first-rate hospital down the street. He didn’t need CPR, and he’s breathing on his own.”
But for how long? Val could tell from Granddad’s grim face that he shared her worry.
Madison stared at him with teary eyes. “I don’t understand why you’re here. Did Rick invite
you?”
“We knew where he’d be,” Val said quickly to keep Granddad from going into a long and winding tale. “Toasting Poe on this day is an annual ritual for him, isn’t it?”
Madison nodded and wiped away a tear. “For the past few years he’s been visiting Poe’s grave at the end of the day on January nineteenth. He never attracted as much attention as the middle-of-the-night visitor last seen in 2009.”
Val crossed her arm. “And no one sees Rick either, thanks to you. You’re the gatekeeper for his tribute to Poe. How do you keep people away from the grave when he toasts Poe?”
“I give impromptu tours of other parts of the cemetery. If people reject my offer or slip by me, I call Rosana. She intercepts them closer to the grave or hustles Rick away.”
“What’s Clancy’s job?” Granddad said.
“Cleanup. Once Rick leaves, Clancy removes the cognac and roses so no one knows anyone’s been there. No publicity. No crowd waiting for him next year.” Madison’s voice broke. “I hope Rick can come next year.”
Sirens announced the arrival of ambulances.
Granddad pointed down the street. “Val and I are going to that hospital. That’s where they’ll take Rick. Do you want to come with us?”
Madison bit her lip. “I’ll wait here. Rosana may need me to move the car to the hospital garage or do other things.”
Val walked arm-in-arm with Granddad to the hospital. “I don’t know if the police have the evidence to arrest Clancy for trying to kill Rick Usher. But attacking Raven in front of witnesses should be enough for them to take him into custody.”
“The jagged glass could have cut that young man’s artery. They ought to get him for assault with a deadly weapon.”
“They ought to get him for Emmett’s murder too.” Val was sure that her deductions wouldn’t prove Clancy guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. She only hoped the police found the evidence to justify arresting him for murder.
The Tell-Tale Tarte Page 22