Griffin?
Yeah. Im thinking that youre about to tell me how he died, and since youre on the phone with me, and you know were in Baltimore, Im assuming he died in Baltimore?
Yes, last night. He was found in the wine cellar of the Black Bird, a new restaurant
What? Griffin said. He knew the restaurantpretty well! It was, in fact, the posh place where hed taken Vickie last night.
The Black Bird, Jackson repeated.
We ate there last night.
Oh. Well, thats convenient. You know right where it is.
I do. Fells Point, not far from where were staying. You know Vickiewe found a really great old historic hotel. Blackhawk Harbor House. In fact, Im standing outside. Its so wonderfully old and historic, though I cant seem to make a cell phone call from inside. He glanced up at the building. It had been built as a hotel in the 1850sbuilt with concrete and care. It would probably withstand any storm. The hotel was handsome and elegant, and Griffin enjoyed itbut he still found it annoying when he couldnt get a decent signal on his phone from his room.
They sure werent expecting Franklin Verne at the restaurant, he told Jackson. They talked about the fact that they hoped that he would come in. His patronage would be great for business.
I imagine. Well, he was thereis there. Sadly, hes dead. At the moment, theyre calling it an accidental death.
Okay. So. How did he die? Was it an accident, possibly...?
A combination of over-the-counter drugs and alcohol, Jackson said. Thats a preliminarythe ME, of course, will deny he suggested any true cause as of yet. You know how that worksthey wont know for certain what caused it until all the tests are back. I take it you havent seen any news yet?
Jackson, it is 7:30 a.m. This was our last weekend before settling inme back from a long stint in Boston, and Vickie moving to a new state and an entirely new life. Hey, it was supposed to be free time. We were out late last night. Vickie is still sleeping.
Okay, you havent seen the news. Anyway, Franklin Verne used to be quite the wild man, drinking, getting rowdy with friends, playing the type of hard-core character that appears in most of his books. His wife, Monica, put a stop to it a few years backwhen the doctors told her he wouldnt make it to old age. But his body was found in a wine cellar. According to Monica, Franklin had been clean for two full years.
You know all this because...? Griffin asked him.
Because Franklin Verne gave generously to a lot of the same causes our own Adam Harrison holds so dear, Jackson said.
Adam Harrison was their senior advisorhe was, in fact, the creator of the Krewe, and a man with a phenomenal ability to put the right people together with the right situation.
Naturally, Jackson continued, hes quite good friends with Monica, so... Well, there you have it. Hell wrangle us an invitation into the investigation eventuallyyou know him and his abilities with local police. Jackson hesitated a minute. Even if we wind up having to tell Monica she lost her husband because he slipped back into addiction, shell have the truth of the situation. For the moment, I need you to go make nice with Detective Carl Morris.
Carl Morris, sure, Griffin said.
So much for the incredible plans hed had with Vickie for the day!
Addiction, a friend, temptation... It could have been an accident, Griffin said.
Yes. Except that none of the waitstaff saw him in the restaurant, much less down in the wine cellar. And, as I said, Monicawho claims she really knew her husbandis calling it murder.
Ah. Okay, are you coming up? Griffin asked Jackson. Krewe headquarters was only about an hour and a halftwo hours at mostfrom Baltimore, even counting Beltway traffic.
Maybe, but Adam wants to move delicately with this. Were not invited in yetFranklin Vernes death isnt even considered to be a murder at the moment. But of course, the way the man died, there has to be an autopsy and an investigation. Get started for me, and then give me a call. Let me know what you think.
All right. When did this happen?
He was found about an hour ago. Adam got the call from Monica immediately after she was visited by the police and informed that her husband was dead. If you head in quickly, youll see the body in situ. Oh, and one more thing.
Whats that?
Well, it is Baltimore, and Poe is buried there, and, hell, the name of the restaurant isnt Raven, but it is Black Bird...
What?
He was found gripping a little bird. Yes, a raven, of course. Its the kind you can find just about anywhere they have Poe souvenirs. Cheap, plastic, blackon a little pedestal with its wings out, beak open...and the word nevermore written on the base.
Like you said, you can buy those souvenirs anywhere.
Yep. And, sorry. Just one more thing again.
Whats that?
He was surrounded by three dead blackbirds. Naturally, of course, no one can figure out how Franklin Verneor the birdsgot into the wine cellar.
* * *
Vickie opened her eyes.
For a moment, she was disoriented.
She wasnt at all sure where she was!
And then she realized that Griffin was there, looking down at her with concern. A half grin curled his lips, though that grin was far more rueful than amused.
Grim, even.
A nightmare? he asked her gently, a trace of worry crossing his bronzed face. There wasnt a reason for her to be having nightmaresat the moment. The Krewe cases with which shed been involved had come to their conclusions.
She was in the wonderful hotel in Baltimores Fells Point where she had enthusiastically suggested they stay on their trip from Boston to Arlington, Virginiaeven though they hadnt really needed to make it an overnight trip, much less a weekend one.
But she and Griffin had wanted time together. Fun time, sightseeing, before Griffin reported back to headquarters; Vickie was preparing to enter the FBIs training academy at Quantico.
Eventually, theyd both be working out of the main special offices of the Krewe of Hunters unit. But for now, Griffin would be getting back to work, theyd both be settling in to living togetherand Vickie would be starting up with the next class for twenty weeks of training that would lead to her graduation and an official position with the Krewe.
Vickie could have told Griffin about the dream. The Krewe were more than simply dedicated and well-trained agents. They had been gathered together carefully because they all had unique abilities, the center of those abilities being that they could communicate with the dead.
When the dead chose, of course.
She and Griffin had both known for years just what the other was capable of. While they had only rekindled their relationship recently, they had first met almost a decade agowhen a serial killer had nearly taken Vickies life. It had been a ghost, the older brother of the child she was babysitting, who had saved her by sending her running out of the house to safety, straight toward a young Officer Pryce. Hed been a cop before becoming an agent, though he had now been with the Krewe of Hunters for quite some time. Hed always known that he wanted to be in law enforcement.
It wasnt that way for Vickie.
It wasnt that way for Vickie.
She loved history. Shed been a guide, leading youth-group tours as a historian, and she was an author of history books. She was proud to say that she was good at itthe most important reviews to her were the ones that said she had a way of making history fun for the reader.
It was only the cases with which she had recently become involved that had made her want to veer in a new direction. Not a changean addition. There had been a case in which an incarcerated serial killer had managed to reach out to strike again, and then another where modern-day Satanists had tried to bring the devil back to Massachusetts.
She was now determined to do her best to become an agent herself, and it was a decision with which she was really pleased. It was odd to realize that she had once been embarrassed by her secret talentthe ability to speak with the dead. She hadnt wanted to admit that it could be real. But shed learned recently that her so-called curse allowed her to actually make a difference. She might have the ability to help in more bizarre casesto save lives. And that mattered. To that end, shed applied for and been accepted to the academy at Quantico. The Krewe might be a special unit, but even so, the agents were required to go through the academy. Vickie had passed the necessary tests on paper and made it through the grueling physical regimen necessary to become an agent.
Griffin already had an apartment in a wonderful old row house in Alexandria. For him, it wasnt a movejust a return to his home of the past several years. He had only been back in Bostonwhere he and Vickie both were born and raisedon assignment.
Vickie had gone to college at NYU and then lived in New York for several years, but never farther south.
It was, shed assured him, exciting to move.
But she was aware that Griffin believed it had to be a tug on her heartstrings as wellshe was leaving a lot behind.
And she was. But she was also happy to be moving forward.
A nightmare? he repeated, and the note of worry seemed higher.
She smiled, staring into his dark eyes. Griffin was fine with her decision to become an agent; the Krewe was composed of both men and women, and he knew women were every bit as efficient and excellent as agents as men.
It was just herbut of course, he loved her. It wasnt going to be easy for him to accept her walking into the same danger he did daily. He would, however, get used to itand she loved him all the more for that fact.
No, not a nightmare! she told him. He far too quickly became concerned for her. All it had been was a bizarre dream. It might well have been due to the way theyd overindulged in some delicious blue crabs at dinner last night.
She would stay mum. For the moment. After all, she was in Baltimore. Edgar Allan Poe was buried here; hed died here. Having dreams about him didnt seem the least bit strange, actually.
But for the moment...
It was a dream, and rather a cool one. I was walking around Baltimore...
Were in Baltimore, so that seems...normal, maybe?
She grinned, rolling onto an elbow to better face himhed already gotten up and showered and dressed for the day. He was an early riseralert and ready to face the world as soon as he opened his eyes.
Vickie...not so much! But she was getting used to early mornings.
Perfectly normal, she told him. It wasnt a nightmare. It was just a dream. About beautiful old Baltimorehey, its an important city, right? And we are going to go and do some cool things today, arent we?
Absolutely, he promised. Fort McHenry, the Inner Harbor, Federal Hill
Dont forget the aquarium! she said.
I wouldnt dream of it. But I thought we might want a full day for that. We can do whatever you choose, my love. Anything you would like.
Youve done it all too many times before? she asked him.
He laughed. No. I mean, I have done it all before, but not with you, so its as if its the first time, right?
That is an incredibly good suck-up line if I have ever heard one! she assured him.
She thought that the line might take them somewhere, but he smiled and stepped away from the bed.
I just have a couple of hours of work first, he said.
What?
Work. But theres not much involved at the moment, and not much I can do. He added quietly, Franklin Verneyou know who he is?
Yep. Im living and breathing and have ears and eyes. You cant miss him. What about him?
He died last night.
Oh, thats too badterribly sad! Ive seen him speak. I mean, I write nonfiction and he writes fiction, but Ive been at a number of conferences where hes been a speaker on a panel. He was charming and very funny...helpful, giving. Hes actually written some historical fiction, and while Verne tended toward horrorsome action, some sci-fi and some mysteryhe was a wonderful researcher as well.
Always the writer! he teased.
Thats not going to be a problem, is it? Shed spoken with other agents and she believed thatassuming she did make it through the academyshed still be welcome to write on her own time. It seemed that Krewe agents were, in fact, encouraged to keep up with any previous pursuits.
Its fine! he assured her quickly.
So what happened to Franklin Verne? I know that he was ill a few years agoin fact, he joked about it sometimes when he spoke, saying that his wife taught him how to have fun and not be totally boring without a dip in a whiskey vat.
Yes, I had heard that he was supposedly as clean as a newborn babe.
Supposedly?
He was found dead in a wine cellar.
In a wine cellarhe didnt have a wine cellar. I dont think he even drank wine. When he did drink.
Not his wine cellar. But how do you know he didnt have a wine cellar?
He was very open about his health problems, about his wild daysand his love for his wife, Vickie said. So, if not his own wine cellarwhere then?
The Black Bird.
What?
Amazing. That was my exact reaction when Jackson told me. Want to come with me? Im on my way there now. Heading off to kowtow to a local cop named Carl Morris.
Vickie rolled out of bed. Ten minutes, she told him.
He nodded; he knew she was telling the truth.
* * *
Vickie and Griffin had both thoroughly enjoyed the Black Bird the night before; the service had been wonderful and the food had been delicious.
Vickie had especially like the decor; the building was 1820s Federal style, and the restaurant had the first two floors and the basement of the building while the remaining three floors above were given over to office space. Upon entering a long hall of a foyer with exposed brick walls and plush red carpeting, you came to the hostess stand. From there it went through to the bar area.
The bar was lined with portraits of Poe and his family; there were framed posters of quotations and more, all having to do with Edgar Allan Poe.
Stairs led from behind the bar to several sections of seats and a few party rooms of various sizes. The main dining room was the first floor, and tables and booths were surrounded by bookshelves.
Of course, not even the master could have written enough to fill the restaurants shelves; it was an eclectic mix of secondhand novels. The venue had charmingly been planned on the concept that every diner was welcome to take a book, and, naturally, you were welcome to leave a book or books as well.