Murder in the Museum_Edmund DeCleryk Mysteries

by Karen Shughart

  Ed pumped a fist. “That sheds a very different light on this. I wanted to talk with him to get any insights he might have had about Charles, but now that I know when he applied for the duplicate license, I’m wondering if he might be involved in the murder and was either in the building with Charles that night or if for some reason Charles is covering for him.”

  “I’m as excited as you are about this, but Ed, we’ve been that route before. Let’s take this one step at a time,” Carrie cautioned. “He might not be the person we’re looking for, or if he is, he may have lost the license earlier in the fall and for some reason only realized it was missing the day after the murder. His applying for a duplicate when he did could be completely coincidental.”

  “Of course, it could. But I’ve been investigating murders for a long time and trust my instincts, Carrie, which are telling me that this Michael Warren knows something about Emily’s murder.”

  “What’s your plan?” Carrie asked.

  “I’ll go see Charles tomorrow and ask him some more questions. I’m hoping I can persuade him to tell me if they’ve been in regular contact. Then I’ll pay a visit to Michael.”

  Chapter 49

  Exotic spices and the smell of coconut wafted through the air as Ed walked into his house.

  “I’m home,” he called out to Annie, who appeared with a wooden spoon in hand, wearing an oversized white chef’s apron.

  “What’s that wonderful smell?”

  She smiled. “I’m experimenting. Al West, the chef on the cooking segment of this morning’s news program on RNN made an Indian vegetable curry in a slow cooker that looked delicious. So that’s what we’re having tonight along with basmati rice, mango chutney and some Indian flatbread.”

  “Sounds delicious. How soon ‘til dinner?”

  “It’s almost ready, but we have time for a drink before we eat. What would you like?”

  “I’ll have a scotch. What can I get for you?”

  “There’s an open bottle of sauvignon blanc in the refrigerator. I’ll finish that up. Do you want a snack?”

  “No, thanks. I don’t want to ruin my appetite.” Ed reached into his pocket and took out the coin and put it on the kitchen counter.”

  “What’s this?” Annie asked.

  “It’s a coin I found in the sand the day of Emily’s murder. Look at the date. I forgot I had put it in my pocket until today, when I pulled it out with other stuff I picked up at the park while I was metal detecting.”

  Annie took the coin in her hand and turned it over. Eyes widening, she started doing the happy dance. “This is great, Ed. I know there are other possibilities for why this coin was buried in the sand. There were settlers here during that time, although most of them weren’t British, but this still makes Battleforth’s story more credible. It may not be worth much monetarily, but along with the map, it would be part of an interesting exhibit.”

  Annie calmed down, and keeping with their nightly tradition, she and Ed––drinks in hand––sat side by side on chairs facing the fireplace in the living room and discussed their day, this time with Gretchen stretched out next to Annie on the floor. Annie’s day had been uneventful, and she said she felt as though the museum was in good shape for its formal opening in a couple months.

  Ed told her about finding Michael Warren’s driver’s license; that he might be the same person who had been with the others on the trip from Canada, and his belief that Charles and Michael had been in the museum together when Emily was killed, and that Charles was covering for him.

  “Oh, Ed,” sighed Annie. “On one hand, I’m hoping that Michael’s only involvement with this whole mess was as a reporter when he was a student at the university. I’d hate to find out there’s any connection between him and Charles and the murder.”

  “I know, Annie,” Ed interrupted. “This case has taken a very interesting turn.”

  “But,” Annie continued, “on the other hand, I don’t want Charles to be the killer. If Michael had anything to do with Emily’s murder, then maybe Charles won’t have to spend his remaining days in jail.”

  Ed responded that he planned to pay a visit to Charles the next day, and then, depending on the outcome of the interview, make a visit to Michael Warren.

  Chapter 50

  Ed was meeting his Navy buddies for lunch the next day so decided to wait until after that to visit Charles. The sky had turned gun-metal gray, and heavy, wet snow had begun to fall.

  So much for an early thaw, thought Ed as he carefully drove five miles out of town to Phillips House, a restaurant located on a country road that meandered through acres of apple orchards. Stamping his feet in the toasty warm foyer to get the snow off his boots, he waved when he saw his friends and walked over to the table where they were sitting.

  “Afternoon, guys, nice to see you,” Ed said, as he slid into his chair. Cocking his head towards the window and the snow that had become increasingly heavier, he remarked, “One thing you can say about the weather around here is that if you’re not happy with it, wait five minutes and it will change.” Everyone laughed.

  The server came over to the table and took their orders. The lunch special, a bowl of chili, garlic bread and a small side salad appealed to all the men, and settling in with their meals and beverages they chatted, catching up with each other.

  George Wright and his wife had just had another grandchild; Bob Fergus and his wife had just returned from a Caribbean cruise; Larry Mandel, a widower, had met a lovely woman while taking an art appreciation class at the community college; and Jeff Ketchum told the group that after forty years of marriage he and his wife were divorcing, he’d bought a 45-foot sailboat and planned to sail from Lake Ontario to Manhattan in June with his new girlfriend, a thirty-year old financial planning consultant.

  The group sat near the roaring fire that burned in the fireplace, and as he talked, Jeff commented on how warm the room was and peeled off his sweater revealing an open-collared blue oxford cloth shirt. The conversation shifted to Ed, and, of course, the murder. Ed caught the group up on Charles’ arrest, trying in vain to change the subject as his friends pelted him with questions.

  After several minutes, he had finally had enough and said, “Hey guys, can we move on to something else?”

  They reluctantly agreed, and just as the conversation started to change, Ed noticed a pendant hanging around Jeff’s neck, partially hidden by his shirt. It was a gold anchor. He recognized it, and then it hit him. Charles probably was covering for someone, but if not Michael Warren, Ed thought he knew who it was. He just couldn’t figure out why.

  Chapter 51

  A guard led Charles, handcuffed, slouching, and dragging his feet, into the dimly lit interview room.

  “Please take his cuffs off,” Ed requested of the tall, muscular, uniformed guard. “He’s no danger to me.”

  “Prison orders, sir. Sorry.”

  “Very well, but I’ll be safe in here without you. I’ll knock on the door when our conversation is finished.”

  The guard nodded and left the room.

  “Good morning, Charles. How are you holding up?” Ed said kindly.

  Charles breathed in and out rapidly, with a shaky sigh. “I’m doing fine, given my circumstances.”

  “Is your health worse?”

  “My stamina’s not too great, so mainly I sit quietly in my cell and read or watch TV. Sometimes I work in the library, and I’m teaching some inmates to read. They treat me well and are respectful, and I’m grateful for that.”

  “I want to help you, Charles. I’m here because I have reason to believe you didn’t kill Emily.”

  “Ed, let’s not go down that road again. I confessed, I’m guilty, and I’m prepared to suffer the consequences.”

  On his way to the jail, Ed remembered a conversation he’d had with Annie just after Emily’s murder. He’d forgotten about it because what she told him didn’t seem important at the time, but that one detail made a lie out of Charles’ story abou
t the sequence of events that happened that morning.

  Ed revealed the conversation to Charles.

  “When you gave your version of how you murdered Emily, you told us that you’d been in her office retrieving the map from a hidden drawer in her desk. But that’s not true. The desk with the hidden drawer had been in Emily’s office, but she needed more space for a filing cabinet, so she and Annie switched desks last September. Annie knew about the drawer because Donna had told her about it and once the desk was moved to her office, she found it and opened it. She assured me that there was nothing in it. No map, no papers.” Charles looked startled.

  “Yesterday I thought perhaps you were in the museum with another person, but now I believe you weren’t there at all and that someone else may have killed Emily and you know who it is and are covering for him.”

  “You think I’m covering for someone?” sputtered Charles, caught completely off guard. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because you’re in ill health and figured you’d take the fall for the real killer.”

  “You know you can’t prove that,” Charles said evasively.

  “I think I can. But what I don’t understand is why you would want to cover for him. You can’t know him all that well.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about.” Charles looked puzzled.

  “Then let me explain it to you, Charles. Annie found something of his at the crime scene, although at the time when she told me I didn’t recognize it or realize it was his. He was very wily at taking suspicion off himself. It’s an anchor pendant that’s part of a collection of jewelry available to retired and honorably discharged Navy officers, but more typically, it’s worn by former Navy SEALs. I’m positive he was at the museum the night Emily was killed, so I ask again, why would you cover for Luke Callen?”

  “Luke Callen?” Charles gasped. “I barely know Luke, and I’m not covering for him. I’m covering for someone else.” Realizing what he’d just said, Charles cupped his hand in front of his mouth.

  “Annie found Luke’s anchor pendant on the floor in Emily’s office,” responded Ed patiently. “She gave it to him to take to the station, and he did, probably realizing that no one would suspect him, even if his prints were on it, because he had conveniently taken off his investigator’s gloves. Later she found a chain, probably the one that broke off his neck during the struggle, when the pendant fell to the floor. How can you tell me you aren’t covering for him? I believe he was there, but if you weren’t with him, who was, and why is that person so important to you that you would go to jail for him?”

  Charles stared at Ed but refused to answer.

  Then it hit Ed and he knew. “Michael Warren? If it’s not Luke, it must be Michael. Why would you do that?”

  Charles put his head in his hands.

  “Charles,” Ed said sternly, “this charade has to stop. You weren’t at the museum the night Emily was killed. I believe either Michael Warren or Luke Callen or both were there, I just don’t know why. I will find out, so you might as well tell me what’s really going on and what you know.”

  Charles shook his head. “I can’t take this any longer. I wish you’d just go away and leave me alone.”

  “That’s not going to happen, Charles. You didn’t kill Emily, and I won’t be party to putting you in jail for the rest of your life. If you say you don’t know Luke I believe you, but the only other person you could possibly be protecting would be Michael Warren.”

  Charles remained silent.

  “Charles, the only other lead we have is Luke, so you’re leaving me no choice but to call Carrie and have her arrest him.”

  “That’s not fair. You’re mistaken about Luke; he’s not involved. Despite what you think, the anchor and chain are most likely items we sell at the gift shop. I’m sure it’s purely a coincidence that it looks like a piece of Navy jewelry.”

  “Then talk to me.”

  Charles sighed. “I can’t let an innocent man go to jail, so you’re leaving me no choice. It is Michael. Michael Warren.”

  “Why would you cover for Michael? From what I’ve been told, you barely know him. This isn’t making any sense.”

  Charles moaned. “I’m covering for Michael because he’s my son. There, now you know.”

  Shocked, Ed shook his head and thought, Well, that’s a new wrinkle to the case I never expected.

  Looking at Charles, he asked him why he’d never mentioned he had a son.

  “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “You can’t evade talking about this any longer, Charles. You’ve just admitted Michael is your son, so you might as well get the story out. My interrogation skills are pretty good, so if you don’t tell me the truth, I’ll get it from Michael.”

  “Please don’t bother him. Michael’s a decent young man. None of this is his fault. I didn’t know until recently that he was my son. I had no idea when I met him at the university that we were related.”

  “You’re convinced Michael had something to do with Emily’s murder, aren’t you?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. I found something of his in the museum the morning of the murder. I confronted him, and the way he answered me made me believe he was at the museum at the time of her death.”

  “It sounds like we’re going to be here awhile.” Ed sighed. “Tell me what you know.”

  Chapter 52

  Charles told Ed that he’d done research at Cornell one summer when he was in his early 50s and had met Liz Norman, a young, attractive librarian who worked at the graduate school of archaeology. They struck up what at first seemed to be a platonic friendship. She was about half his age, but Charles was attracted to her, and she later confessed that she felt attracted to him as well. They seemed to have a lot in common and started meeting after work, at first for coffee, then on weekends when they would take hikes together and sail on Seneca Lake in a boat he’d rented for the season, sometimes having drinks and dinner afterwards.

  Several weeks after they met, they began an intimate relationship which for him had all the passion of the affair he’d had many years before with Angelica Hawthorn. He could hardly believe that after all those years he was finally in love again, and she seemed to return his feelings.

  One evening late in August, before he went back to Toronto, Charles sailed with Liz along the lake to a hidden cove where they anchored. After sharing a simple meal, he proposed. Liz turned him down. She said she hadn’t known him long enough to make that sort of commitment, and while she was pretty sure she loved him, she was convinced that because of their age difference it couldn’t work as a permanent relationship. She didn’t feel she was prepared to take care of him if he became ill as he aged or to become a young widow. Charles said he argued with her, telling her that there are no guarantees, but she was resolute.

  Early in their relationship, before they became lovers, Charles had told Liz that while he regretted not marrying, he’d accepted that he’d never father a child, and at his age it was probably for the best, because he thought he might be too set in his ways to be a good father. She used that as another reason for refusing his proposal, telling him she’d like to have children and despite his protestations to the contrary, she believed him when he first acknowledged that he probably wasn’t father material.

  She said that even if he had changed his mind, she didn’t want to have children with someone who might not live to see them reach adulthood. Nothing he said could convince her otherwise. Devastated, Charles returned to Canada. He wrote and tried calling her, but she wouldn’t speak with him. After several months he gave up, and they never saw one another again.

  “Here I was, 50, and in love again. I thought I’d have a second chance, but once again that didn’t happen. I finally resolved that marriage, and a permanent relationship with someone I loved, just wasn’t in the cards for me. I got over her rejection, but I never forgot her.”

  He told Ed that after the hurting stopped he dated other women, had other a
ffairs, but he never forgot Liz and became resigned to living his life alone.

  Ed looked at Charles with compassion, thinking that despite his obvious intelligence and successful career, what a sad and tragic man he was.

  “How did you find out about Michael?”

  “By now you probably know a good bit of this story,” Charles responded. “Michael majored in English at the University of Toronto. He interviewed me for a feature in the school newspaper and asked to accompany our team here to Lighthouse Cove. He expressed interest in a photo on my desk taken the summer I did research at Cornell, and when I told him about it, he talked about growing up in Ithaca and going fishing with his father. His last name was Warren, and the name wasn’t a familiar one to me, so at the time I didn’t think anything more about it.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Nothing at first. We came here and decided it was a wild goose chase. Pamela and Angelica disagreed with our findings, but while disappointed, I trusted the opinions of our geologist and surveyor. Later, after I discovered I was related to the Merrill and Battleforth clans, I changed my mind.”

  “Did you see Michael after that?”

  “No, not for a very long time. We had talked about going fishing, but Michael graduated and went to South Korea to teach for a couple years, and I retired and moved here. We didn’t keep in touch.” Charles paused and took a deep breath.

  “Then what happened?”

  “He called me about a year ago. He had kept in touch with Pam Huntsman who’d mentioned in passing that I had retired to Lighthouse Cove. When he was hired as a teacher at the Wayne Central Middle School, he obtained my phone number from her. He called and told me he wanted to visit. I was delighted to hear from him and invited him to dinner.”