The Tell-Tale Tarte

by Maya Corrigan

  They went in the main entrance of the hospital and got directions to the emergency room. They walked down a corridor, past a food court and a café, and through another longer corridor. Eventually they arrived at the elevator that would take them to the emergency room on the lower level. By then, Val’s wrist felt only slightly sore. If it still bothered her tomorrow, she’d see a doctor in Bayport. She and Granddad sat in the waiting room.

  Val called Gunnar and left him a long voice message, summarizing what had happened at the cemetery. Meanwhile, Chief Yardley arrived and Granddad got up to speak to him.

  As she tucked her phone away, Granddad returned. “Rick and Raven came by ambulance and are getting treatment. The Baltimore police are questioning Clancy. The chief is going to talk to Madison and then he’ll go back to the treatment area to interview Rosana and the young man, if they’re up to it. I told him we’d be in the café upstairs. You need to put ice on your wrist, and we can both use some food.”

  They’d finished eating by the time the chief came into the café with a Baltimore police officer.

  “Any word on Rick Usher’s condition, Chief?” Val said.

  “His blood pressure was very low when they brought him in. I told the doctors he might have overdosed on beta blockers. He’s responding to treatment now, and they’re hopeful he’ll make it.”

  Chief Yardley turned to the officer. “I’m going to get something to eat. You want anything?”

  The officer declined. While he interviewed Val and Granddad, the chief returned with a tray full of food and gobbled down a burger and fries.

  Once the officer left, Val asked the chief how Raven was doing.

  “The doctors were stitching up his wound the last time I checked. He’s dazed and may have a concussion.”

  “Is he Rick Usher’s son?” Granddad said.

  “That’s what he believes.” The chief sipped coffee. “So does his mother. She’d told him Rick Usher might be at Poe’s grave today. The young man hung around the cemetery most of the day, hoping to meet his father.”

  Granddad smiled. “Some folks at the cemetery took him for Poe’s ghost.”

  “Clancy said he took Raven for a maniac who would harm Usher.” The chief filled his fork with lemon meringue pie. “That was his explanation for starting the fight.”

  “His real reason,” Val said, “was to make sure Rick Usher kept drinking the cognac laced with meds. Raven would have distracted his father. Clancy tried to scare off Raven and, when that didn’t work, he freaked out. His murder plan was doomed.”

  Granddad patted her arm. “Because we were there to stop it. What took the police so long?”

  “Burglaries, traffic accidents, a shooting. An elderly man visiting a grave didn’t have a high priority.” The chief washed down his pie with coffee. “I wish you two had stayed home, but based on what you told the officer, they’ll be able to charge Clancy. That’ll give us time to get a search warrant.”

  * * *

  A few days after the Poe birthday party at the cemetery, Val heard the results of that search from the chief. She shared them with Gunnar, when he stopped by the house for a light dinner before his dress rehearsal.

  During the search of Clancy’s room, the police found a vial of propranolol, a beta blocker given to PTSD sufferers and prescribed for his brother. Rick Usher took a different type of beta blocker to treat his high blood pressure. The medical examiner ordered toxicology tests that could distinguish the type of beta blocker in Emmett’s stomach and in Rick Usher’s cognac.

  A police computer expert restored the deleted files on Clancy’s computer. Among them were the audio files downloaded from the bug in Usher’s study and e-mails between Clancy and Emmett. The messages proved that Clancy engineered the social media blitz about Rick Usher’s poor health. Emmett’s final message included a threat to tell the Ushers who was behind the online rumors unless Clancy convinced them to endorse Emmett’s Rick Usher play.

  While she was talking, Gunnar finished a hearty bowl of vegetable soup. “So Clancy killed the man blackmailing him. He might have gotten away with it if he’d flushed the remaining pills away and tossed his hard drive into the Chesapeake.”

  “He never expected anyone to search his things. Emmett Flint and Rick Usher would both look as if they’d died from natural causes. Clancy had the misfortune that Emmett’s sister kicked up a fuss and demanded the police investigate his death.”

  “With the world full of Emmett-haters, they had no shortage of suspects.” Gunnar reached for Val’s hand across the table. “I owe you and your grandfather a huge thanks. If you’d gotten hurt trying to help me—”

  “This is the only casualty, and it’s not serious.” She held up her wrist wrapped in an elastic bandage. “By the way, I didn’t tell Granddad about the café contract not being renewed, and now I don’t need to. Monique’s petition convinced the club owner to renew my contract. He told the manager to shelve the idea of selling clothes at the club.”

  Gunnar’s face lit up with the huge smile Val loved. “Fantastic news! Will you still hire Irene?”

  “I’ll give it a try.” Val set her soup bowl aside and picked up her salad fork. “I’m looking forward to the challenge of growing the café business.”

  He leaned across the table. “If you’re too busy to get away around Valentine’s Day, we can celebrate your birthday here and postpone that trip.”

  She hadn’t expected him to suggest a postponement, but it didn’t bother her. They’d known each other for only half a year. They weren’t ready to take their relationship to the next level, as Bethany had urged. Better to move at a slow but steady pace. “Let’s plan to celebrate here.”

  “Sounds good.” He speared the last of the lettuce in his salad. “Tell me about the book Usher was looking for. Did it have anything to do with what happened to him or Emmett?”

  “Not directly, but what Clancy said about it made me suspect him. He never uttered Emmett’s name until Madison forced him to admit Emmett had eaten lunch at the house on Saturday. After that, Clancy couldn’t shut up about Emmett and his idea that Rick had stolen the book.”

  “Too much information.”

  “Exactly, and he had a purpose. Once it got out that Emmett had eaten at the Usher house before he died, investigators might come to the house. Clancy played up the Ushers’ motive for killing Emmett—fear that he’d blackmail them over the stolen book.”

  “Did Rick Usher steal that first edition from the university library?”

  Val wouldn’t accuse anyone of theft without proof. “Let’s just say he behaved like a man who thought he had that book. He started looking for it after Emmett’s visit.”

  Gunnar glanced at his watch and stood up. “I’ve run out of time. Thanks for feeding me.”

  She walked him to the door and hugged him. “Break a leg, Big Daddy.”

  As he drove away, Granddad arrived, returning from a visit to the hospital in Baltimore. “Rick’s out of intensive care and feeling better.”

  “I’m relieved to hear that. Come to the kitchen for some soup.”

  While she ladled up his soup, he took a beer from the fridge. “I spent some time with Rick when Rosana met friends for lunch. I asked if I should set him up with a lawyer after all. Not now, he said. He’d wanted a lawyer to handle an anonymous donation of a book to a library, but he couldn’t find the book. Until it turns up, he doesn’t need a lawyer.” Granddad opened his beer. “You were wrong about the reason he wanted a lawyer. It had nothing to do with changing his will.”

  “And everything to do with a stolen first edition of Tamerlane.” She brought Granddad’s soup to the table. “Did he say anything else about that book?”

  “He bought it at an estate sale years ago. He knew a book like that had been taken from a library, but didn’t believe he’d bought the stolen copy.”

  “Or he didn’t want to believe that. The book’s return might have been what he needed to put right before he died.”r />
  Granddad blew on his soup. “But where’s the book? Did someone steal it from him?”

  She shrugged. “I wonder if he’s seen it since they moved here from Baltimore. When people relocate, things get lost or hauled to a secondhand shop.”

  While Granddad ate his soup, she told him what she’d learned from the chief about the investigation.

  Granddad broke off a hunk of French bread. “Sounds like they’re sewing up the case against Clancy. Did they find the whole house bugged?”

  Val shook her head. “You and I were excessively concerned about bugs. Only Rick’s study had a bug in it.”

  “Why did Clancy bug it?”

  “He had access to that room, and everyone went there to talk to Rick. I guess Clancy was so insecure that he needed to know what they were saying about him.”

  “Sometimes it’s better not to know. I talked to Rosana while Rick was napping at the hospital. She was going to put Clancy in charge of the books and copyrights once Rick passed on. Clancy could have gotten what he wanted in due time by waiting.”

  “He might have waited, if he hadn’t bugged the study and heard Rick belittle him. Clancy wanted more than control of Rick’s works. He craved recognition for his writing. Rick paid him badly and didn’t give him credit for his work. The last straw was when he made fun of Clancy’s writing in front of you.” Val recalled the first sentence of “The Cask of Amontillado” and paraphrased it. “A thousand injuries I had borne as best I could, but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge. That’s how the murderer in a Poe story put it. Clancy’s motive was similar.”

  Granddad sopped up the last of his soup with bread. “Speaking of Poe, Raven showed up here when you were at the café this morning. Simone told him where I lived. He thought I might know how Rick was doing. Raven told me he’s wanted to see his father for years. He moved to this area just because Rick was here. He used to follow Rick when the Ushers lived in Baltimore, hoping for a chance to talk to him.”

  “I’ll bet he was the man Rick thought was stalking him though neither his wife nor Madison believed the stalker existed.”

  “Raven didn’t mean any harm. He was really happy when I told him Rick wanted to meet him too.” Granddad took his empty bowl to the sink. “At the hospital today Rosana kept thanking me—and you—for saving Rick’s life. I told her Raven deserved the thanks. He got there ahead of us, distracted his father from drinking more cognac, and fought off Clancy. You and I would have had trouble doing that. Rosana insisted on thanking him in person. I called Raven and told him to come to the hospital. To make a long story short, he got to see his father.”

  Val stared at her grandfather, amazed that he’d given someone else credit instead of claiming it himself. When had he changed? “Granddad, you really are a problem solver, like your business card says.”

  He pulled a card from his wallet and plunked it down in front of her. “It also says I’m a sleuth.”

  She tipped an imaginary hat to him. “If it weren’t for your instincts about the Usher house, Clancy would have gotten away with murder.” Of course, Granddad’s first instinct had been that everyone in the house was covering up Rick Usher’s death.

  “I solved another mystery. Before I went to the hospital today, I did a lot of research on the so-called Poe toaster. Until now, no one has identified the mysterious man who visited Poe’s grave in the middle of the night.”

  Until now? “You’ve figured out who the Poe toaster was?” Val tried to keep the skepticism out of her voice.

  “Not the original one, the one who took over in 1990s. The last year the toaster slipped into the cemetery at night was 2009. That was also the last year the Ushers lived in Baltimore.”

  “Are you saying Rick Usher was the Poe toaster?”

  Granddad nodded. “By 2009 he was getting less spry. The crowd trying to capture the toaster was bigger than ever before. When no one took over the tradition of toasting Poe in the wee hours, Rick changed the time of his ritual and toasted Poe at dusk instead of at night.”

  “That’s as good a theory as any about the Poe toaster’s identity.” None of them had any basis in fact. “But you can’t prove Rick Usher was the mysterious toaster.”

  Granddad waggled his finger. “Mark my words. He’ll name a successor. If you and Gunnar stake out the graveyard after midnight next January nineteenth, I’ll bet you see Raven toasting Poe. Will that be proof enough for you?”

  Val paused before answering. Holding a midnight vigil at a graveyard in January would prove only one thing—that she’d lost her mind. “Who needs proof? I accept your brilliant theory.”

  Acknowledgments

  Like every other writer of mysteries, I owe a debt to Edgar Allan Poe, who pioneered the modern detective story. Everything I wrote about Poe’s life, works, and death in The Tell-Tale Tarte is true. While Rick Usher is a fictional character, the elusive Poe toaster is not. As far as anyone knows, the toaster paid his last nighttime visit to Poe’s grave in the early hours of January 19th, 2009. The Poe performer in The Tell-Tale Tarte is not based on any current or past actors who bring Poe’s writing to life. The stolen first edition of Poe’s Tamerlane, mentioned in The Tell-Tale Tarte, remains missing, along with the other writings and artifacts taken from the archives at the University of Virginia.

  For details about Poe’s life, death, and reputation, I relied on Poe-Land by J. W. Ocker, Edgar Allan Poe by Madelyn Klein Anderson, and the online resources provided by the Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore. I received helpful information about the effects and detection of prescription drug overdoses from D. P. Lyle, M.D., and from pharmacist and toxicologist Luci Zahray, known to the mystery community as the Poison Lady. I thank both of them for sharing their expertise.

  Thank you to my critique partners, mystery writers Carolyn Mulford and Helen Schwartz. Always generous with their time, they brainstormed with me, gave my book a careful chapter-by-chapter reading, and offered helpful suggestions at our weekly meetings. I’d also like to thank Paul Corrigan, Toni Corrigan, Susan Fay, Cathy Ondis Solberg, and Elliot Wicks for giving me feedback on the book during its final stage. I’m especially grateful to Mike Corrigan for his support through the whole process of writing this book, for reading and commenting on the book, and for visiting Poe’s grave with me on a gloomy day to take countless pictures amid the tombstones. For a change, Mike, you didn’t have to assume the role of either victim or murderer in my enactment of the crime. Maybe next time.

  I’m grateful to my agent, John Talbot, to my editor, John Scognamiglio, and to the production, marketing, and sales teams at Kensington Books who helped bring The Tell-Tale Tarte to readers.

  Finally, to the many readers who enjoy detective and mystery fiction: Thank you for keeping Edgar Allan Poe’s spirit alive.

  The Codger Cook’s Recipes

  E-Z BEAN DIP

  This three-ingredient dip takes three minutes to make. You only need one measuring cup because you use the same amount of each ingredient. Double or triple the recipe for a crowd.

  ½ cup of packed-down grated cheddar cheese

  ½ cup of refried beans

  ½ cup of salsa, spicy or not depending on your tastes

  Mix the three ingredients in a microwave-safe bowl. Microwave on high for one minute and stir the dip. Microwave on high for another thirty seconds and stir again. Repeat, if necessary, until the dip is the consistency you like.

  Serve the dip warm with tortilla chips.

  Serves 4–6.

  E-Z GUACAMOLE

  This three-ingredient dip also takes only three minutes to make. Double, triple, or quadruple the recipe for a crowd.

  1 medium Haas avocado

  1 tablespoon lime juice

  3 tablespoons salsa, as spicy as you like it

  Mash the avocado with a fork. Squirt lime juice on it. Mix in the salsa.

  Try the dip. Add more lime juice or salsa to your taste.

  Serve the dip with tortilla chips.
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  Serves four.

  ORANGE-GLAZED CORNISH HENS

  For this recipe, use marmalade made with sugar. It can be the low-sugar type, but not marmalade made with corn syrup or artificial sweeteners.

  4 tablespoons orange marmalade

  1 tablespoon + 1 teaspoon balsamic vinegar

  1 tablespoon dried thyme

  2 Cornish hens approximately 1.5 pounds each

  Vegetable cooking spray

  [Orange slices, optional]

  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

  Combine the marmalade, the vinegar, and the thyme in a microwavable cup. Microwave the mixture for 1 minute at half-power. Stir to mix the ingredients. Microwave for 30 seconds at half-power. Repeat the 30-second microwaving until the mixture is soft enough to brush on the hens. Set it aside and keep it warm.

  Rinse the hens under cold water and pat them dry. Split them in half lengthwise. Coat a rack with vegetable cooking spray and put it in a shallow roasting pan lined with parchment paper. Place the hens on the rack, breast side up. Brush them with half the glaze mixture.

  Bake at 350 degrees for 25 minutes. Brush the hens with the remaining marmalade mix, and then bake an additional 20 minutes.

  If you have hens of a different size, bake larger ones longer and smaller ones for less time.

  Serve with an optional garnish of orange slices.

  Serves 4.

  CHESAPEAKE BAY PEEL-AND-EAT SHRIMP