Murder in the Museum_Edmund DeCleryk Mysteries

by Karen Shughart

  He continued, “There’s also the possibility the murderer may have hit her with something he was carrying with him instead of the scuttle, and Ben’s also skeptical that the boxes or map have anything to do with her death. He reiterated he can’t pay me, but I told him my bringing a coal scuttle to his office hardly constitutes my serving as consultant and that I’d be happy to continue to work on the case pro bono if he reopens it.”

  “How did he respond?”

  “He’s open to it but said he just can’t dedicate any more police time to the case unless there’s some tangible reason to do so. He was a bit curt with me, which isn’t typical of him. He’s usually pretty affable.”

  “He could just be tired, Ed. He and his family have been through a lot.”

  “You’re probably right. He’s been different since he got back from Arizona, so maybe his father-in-law’s death hit him harder than we thought. I know he was close to him, plus he told me Ellen’s not dealing well with it and is having trouble sleeping, which of course means that Ben’s probably not getting much sleep either.”

  “Sounds like he’s pretty stressed.” Annie paused for a beat. “What are you going to do about it?”

  “You mean about the case, not Ben?” Annie nodded.

  “There’s nothing much I can do until we find out what the results of the testing on the scuttle are. If the lab finds anything to tie it to Emily’s murder, I’ve made up my mind that I’ll press the issue with Ben to continue the investigation on my own without pay. We owe Emily and her family that much. I’ll fill Carrie in about my plans, but I don’t want to create a problem for her, especially since she’s been ordered away from the case.”

  “Keeping her informed is different than getting her involved, Ed. If you uncover anything, you may need her support.”

  Ed nodded and, picking up a seasonal tourist magazine in the lobby, folded his body into an oversized chair in Annie’s office and read it as she rummaged through the hodgepodge of boxes.

  As she’d expected, most of what she found would be trashed or donated to the Salvation Army. She decided to keep and display some interesting photos, many dating back to the early 1900s.

  After about half-an-hour, Annie told Ed she’d done enough for the day and would work on some of the others at another time. She locked up and the couple walked to their SUV. Ed went around to the passenger door to let Annie in and then asked her if she noticed anything unusual about Charles’ reaction to the map.

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “I don’t think his spell, as he called it, was the result of his illness. I think something about the map shook him up. He seemed nervous and talked about your finding it in the basement. How did he know that? You never said anything about finding it in the basement.”

  Annie sighed. “If Charles said he was having a spell, Ed, he was having a spell. All you had to do was look at him to see that. He’s clearly not well. And he did know what I was doing since I told him before you got back from the station. It’s no secret that boxes were stored down there. All board members are encouraged to explore the building, from attic to basement, when they start their terms.”

  She took a deep breath and continued, “Shortly after he joined the board, Charles stopped by and said he wanted to walk through the building. I was in the middle of something and asked him if he could give me a few minutes to finish up, and then I’d take him on a tour. In his own inimitable way, he said he didn’t need me to act as tour guide. I know he went down to the basement because I saw him open the cellar door. When he came back up he didn’t say anything about the boxes being on the floor, although he may not have gone into the back room, or if he did, he may not have thought anything about it.”

  Pausing for a second, she said, “You aren’t thinking he could have something to do with Emily’s murder? I know how your mind works. There’s no way, given his condition, that he would have had the strength to kill her, drag her across the yard and throw her over the bluff. Ed, he liked her. Why would he want to kill her?”

  “I have no idea. Everyone’s a suspect, Annie, at least everyone without a good alibi. All we have is Charles’ version of the events that morning, but we really don’t know if he was telling the truth.”

  Exasperated, Annie replied, “You can’t find a boogie man around every corner, Ed. Admit it. The case is cold, and Emily’s killer probably never will be found. I think you’re grasping at straws.”

  Silent, Ed got into the car, turned on the engine and drove home, lost in a myriad of thoughts, passing Charles who was sitting on a park bench staring into space.

  *****

  Shaky and short of breath, Charles realized as he saw Ed and Annie drive past him that he should have accepted their offer of a ride, but his stubbornness had gotten in the way of his making a reasoned decision. Plus, he didn’t want to have to make small talk. He had a lot on his mind, and it was more productive for him to be alone as much as possible with his thoughts and plans.

  After a very slow journey with lots of stops along the way, he arrived at his house, opened the door and before taking off his jacket pulled the map out of his pocket and placed it on the small side table that sat in the foyer just inside the front door. Within minutes, he had hung up his coat and started a fire in the fireplace. He picked up the map, stared at it for a couple minutes; then made a phone call. After about half-an-hour he ended the call, shook his head, sighed, looked at the map once more, then ripped it to shreds and threw it into the fire.

  Chapter 31

  Ed, deep in thought, and Annie, annoyed with him, sat quietly over drinks and dinner that night. She had fixed shrimp with tomatoes and sheep’s milk feta cheese, served the dish with a mixed green salad, and poured into their wine glasses the remainder of a bottle of an Italian-style red wine she’d purchased a few days earlier at a local winery. They rarely quarreled, but Annie could barely contain her anger at Ed concerning his suspicion of Charles.

  “You’ve got to let this go, Ed. I know you’re desperate to find Emily’s killer. We all want that. Focusing on Charles as a suspect is ludicrous. His alibi is not only plausible, but most likely completely truthful. You saw how distraught he was the morning Emily was killed.”

  “I did, but I could have interpreted his reaction that morning incorrectly. He could have been distraught because he’d committed the murder, felt remorse about it, and then to cover it up told us that he’d entered the building after it happened. I’ve been doing this for a very long time, Annie, and something seems off about his reaction to the map.”

  Annie shook her head. “He’s way too frail to have killed Emily, plus there’s no motive. He’s well-off financially from what I can gather and retired from a long, stellar career. What could he want in the museum? If he suspected there’s something of historical significance hidden here, all he had to do was ask me for help. I know he would have.”

  The phone rang as Ed started to reply. He walked over to it and picked up the receiver. “Hello? Oh, hi, Charles. No, you weren’t disturbing our dinner. We’re almost finished. Do you want me to put Annie on? Oh. I’ll tell her, but she’ll be disappointed. Are you feeling any better? Good to hear. Take care of yourself. Thanks for the call.”

  Annie looked quizzically at Ed, her eyebrows raised. “I’m glad you were able to be cordial to Charles, despite your suspicions. I’m assuming the map has no value?”

  “Charles says the map is completely bogus. The cartography shows an incorrect rendering of the shoreline for Lighthouse Cove, even for a couple of centuries ago, and he’s pretty sure the writing came from a thin line indelible marker.”

  “Well, that’s disappointing. I had hoped it was a copy of a real treasure map.”

  “I know you did, and after thinking about it awhile, I think you may be right. I believe Charles could be lying, and there’s a connection between that map and Emily’s death. As I was beginning to say before he called, although he’s in ill health and despite his fr
ailness, Emily was so tiny that he might have had the strength to drag her body to the bluff and roll it over, especially if he had an adrenalin rush after assuming he’d killed her. We didn’t see signs of dragging because the snow started falling after she was killed. There already was a thick covering on the ground before Ben arrived at the scene.”

  “Ed, there’s no way that Charles would be involved in Emily’s murder. I’m positive of that, and I can’t imagine there’s even a remote connection between the map and what happened to her. While I’d love for it to be authentic, Ed, if Charles says the map’s not a copy of a real one, I believe him. I think you’re grasping at straws because you don’t have any other suspects and can’t find a motive.”

  “Can we let this go for now, Annie? We have a difference of opinion, and until I have more information, there’s no sense arguing about it. But please don’t go back into the basement until we get this cleared up.”

  Annie sighed. “Yes, we can let this go for now, and I won’t go back into the basement until you or Carrie tell me it’s okay. But I hope this is one time you’re wrong.”

  Chapter 32

  Unable to stop obsessing about the case, Ed tossed and turned for most of the night and finally got out of bed at 5:30 a.m. He made a pot of coffee, and after pouring himself a large mug went into his study where he sat in his leather recliner and mulled over the details of the investigation. He believed that if not Emily’s killer, Charles knew something about who was. Annie found him still sitting there at 7 a.m.

  “Bad night? You were pretty restless.”

  “Sorry. I hope I didn’t keep you awake.”

  “I was able to get some sleep, despite your tossing and turning. What’s bothering you that you couldn’t sleep?”

  “I spent most of the night thinking about our conversation with Charles and his reaction when you handed him the map. I think it’s a copy of a real one, and he knows it. I’m positive it’s tied to Emily’s murder. If he’s not the killer, he’s shielding someone. I’m going to call Ben and get his permission to go to Charles’ house later this morning and talk with him.”

  Annie shook her head and walked out of the study without responding.

  Ben wasn’t in his office when Ed called, so he asked to speak with Carrie. He summarized the events of the previous day and told her he wanted to interview Charles.

  “I can’t imagine Ben would have any problem with your doing that, Ed, as long as you understand that we can’t pay you. As deputy chief, I’m going to give you the go ahead to talk with him. Poor Ben. He got a call from his father last night. His mother had a stroke. He and Ellen are now on their way to Wisconsin. They can’t seem to get a break. He’s not sure how long he’ll be gone, but I’ll fill him in when he gets back.”

  Charles’ doorbell rang at 10 a.m. He looked out the large bay window in his living room and saw Ed standing in the covered entrance at the end of the brick path that led to his house from the street. He was tempted to not go to the door, certain that the purpose of the visit was to continue the discussion about the map, something he didn’t want to waste any more time on. But he also knew that if he didn’t respond he’d have to talk with Ed some other day, so he might as well get this over with.

  Built on land that was subdivided during the 1970s as part of an estate settlement of a ship’s captain’s mansion built in the late 19th century, the pale yellow-sided one-story ranch-style home had white trim, slate-colored architectural shingles on the mansard roof, an integral one-car garage and a small yard with a clutch of evergreens, azaleas and rhododendrons clustered along the front of the house.

  Taking a deep breath, Charles opened his white paneled front door. “Good morning, Ed. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “I’d like to ask you some more questions, Charles, about the day of Emily’s murder.” responded Ed.

  Surprised, Charles opened the door, motioned for Ed to enter and pointed to the pale beige upholstered sofa with blue and beige plaid accent pillows that was sitting against the wall opposite the front window. “Please have a seat,” he said, and then slid into one of two blue and beige plaid upholstered chairs that faced the sofa.

  At the far end of one side of the room, wood logs burned in the fireplace. Ed noticed an arrangement of photos displayed on the mantel above it, and before sitting, he walked over to look at them. One was with Charles, what appeared to be some of his university colleagues, and a younger man, probably a student, in a large office. Another was a photo of Charles, seeming to be in his 50s, and two other men grinning and displaying three very large steelhead trout; yet another portrayed a much younger and very debonair Charles, with his arm around a striking young woman in front of what looked like the Tower of London in England.

  “Nice photos,” Ed remarked. “Who’s the pretty woman?”

  Charles told him he’d had a relationship with her when he was in graduate school, but the relationship had ended. Ed thought it odd that he still displayed the photo but decided it wouldn’t be appropriate to pry.

  Charles asked, “Why are you here, Ed? What do you want?”

  “Why did you retire to Lighthouse Cove, Charles?” queried Ed.

  “Excuse me? I don’t understand why that’s at all pertinent to your investigation of Emily’s murder.”

  “Humor me, Charles. The question is related to the investigation. I’m curious about why you ended up here instead of staying in Canada. Wouldn’t that have made more sense for you than retiring to the states?”

  Charles rolled his eyes and sighed. “I have dual citizenship. My mother was born here, so while my permanent residence was in Canada, it was very easy for me to relocate to the states. I passed through here several years ago with some colleagues on our way to the Finger Lakes and fell in love with it. Most of the small towns and villages along Lake Ontario in Canada, while quaint and charming, don’t have the rugged coastal beauty of this village, and it seemed like the perfect place for me to retire.”

  “Then I’ll get to the point. I think you are lying about that map. I think it may be a copy of a real one, and you know something about it. I think it’s tied to Emily’s murder. May I see it, please?”

  This does have something to do with the map, Charles thought, irritated that he had to be addressing the issue yet again.

  “You’re wrong. It’s nothing, believe me, I tossed it,” Charles sputtered. “It’s of absolutely no value to the historical society. The copy could only exist if there’s a real one somewhere and if that’s the case, why hasn’t that one surfaced? Without it, there’s absolutely no way to prove that this is a copy of an authentic one.”

  “Charles, you’re not making any sense. There could be a number of reasons why the original, if there is one, hasn’t surfaced. I believe you know something about this map and that it’s related to the real reason Emily was killed. I think you’re withholding information, but I don’t understand why. You cared for Emily, why wouldn’t you want us to find her killer unless somehow you were involved?”

  “You’re accusing me of killing Emily? That’s preposterous! Do I need to call an attorney?”

  “I’m not accusing you, but I think you know something about her death. You don’t need to call an attorney, but please don’t leave town. I may be back to you with more questions.”

  Ed’s cell phone rang. He saw it was a call from Carrie. “I need to take this. Remember what I just told you,” he admonished.

  Ed walked outside and answered the phone. “Yeah. I’m not surprised that Emily’s DNA was found on the scuttle. The epithelial cells from her scalp matched, didn’t they? Did the lab find any prints? That’s too bad. I’d hoped that some of them would be on file. Maybe the killer was wearing gloves, which is why he didn’t feel the need to get rid of the scuttle after he used it to strike her. At least we know we have our murder weapon. I’ll get back to you after I finish talking with Charles.”

  “One more thing, Ed, before you hang up,” Carrie said. “
The crime lab also gave me the report on the chain that Annie found. They couldn’t find anything to tie it to Emily’s murder.”

  “That’s disappointing, Carrie. So even though we know that Emily was hit with the scuttle, we’re really not any further along in finding out who murdered her.”

  Chapter 33

  While Ed was questioning Charles, Annie took a long brisk walk to work off her anger at him. An inch of newly fallen snow, as white as a starched tuxedo shirt, lay on the grass, a sharp contrast to the wet, black macadam roads. White caps on a thick-as-sludge steel blue sea punched onto the beach, layer upon layer, and froze, creating a stunning winter tableau of miniature, translucent icebergs. She arrived home at the same time as Ed.

  “Well? Is he your murderer?” she asked icily.

  Ed sighed. “I’m positive he knows something, Annie, despite what you think. Either he killed Emily or is shielding the person who did. I asked him to give the map back to me, but he said he got rid of it. If it had no value, he still could have offered to return it to you to use in whatever way you saw fit rather than destroying it. I’m sorry we didn’t make a copy; it was stupid of me to not think about doing that.”

  Annie stared at Ed for a moment and then smiled smugly before speaking. “I don’t believe for a second that Charles had anything to do with Emily’s murder, but I figured even if Charles said it wasn’t a copy of a real one, I could still have some fun using it at a children’s treasure hunt, so I made a copy. I was concerned that, given how shaky he is, Charles would spill something on it or damage it after I gave it to him. It’s in the desk in my office.”

  “You’re terrific, do you know that?”

  “I’m glad you appreciate me.” Annie grinned.