Vickie reached out and set her hand over Monicas. Im so sorry.
Monica looked at Vickie and nodded. Griffin thought that Vickies ability to empathize with others and offer them real comfort was going to be one of her greatest assets in joining the Krewe. It was also going to be one of the most difficult parts of the job for her to learn to manage. He lowered his head for a moment; it was an odd time to smile. And, an odd time to think just how lucky he was. Vickie was beautiful to look atfive foot nine, with long raven-black waves of hair and blue-green eyes that could change and shimmer like emeralds.
She was also so caringhonest and filled with integrity.
He truly loved her. Watching her empathy and gentle touch with Monica, he knew all the more reason why.
My husband didnt kill himself! Monica whispered fervently.
I dont think its been suggested that he killed himself. I believe theyre considering it an accidental death, Griffin began.
Accidental death, my ass! If theres any last thing I can do for Franklin, its going to be to make someone prove that this was no accidental death! Monica lashed out, furious and indignant. She wasnt angry with Vickiewho was still holding her hand. Her passion was against the very suggestion that her husbands death had been through a simple slipsome misfortune.
She wagged a finger at Griffin. You listen to me, and listen well. We were the best, Frankie and me. I swear it. When all else fell to hell and ruin, we still had one another. I had nothing against his friends, all the conferences, all the funsome I went to, some I didnt. I trusted him. I was glad of his buddieshis writing friends, men and women. Im a reader, but I can barely string a decent sentence together. Frankie needed other people who could write and talk about it. But when it all threatened his body, I put my foot down. No drugs whatsoevernot even a toke off someones joint. No alcohol. None. And he listened to me. Because he wanted to live, and he loved and respected me. He loved ushe loved living. Adam sent you to me because he knows, damn it! Accidental death! No way. And you will find a way to prove it.
Mrs. Verne, what happened yesterday? Was he homedid you not notice that he wasnt with you until the police came to tell you that...that hed been found? What went on here yesterday?
What do you mean? Monica asked indignantly. There is no lie to this. You may ask anyone anywhere who knows the two of us, from friends to associates, to
Im not suggesting anything was wrong between you, Griffin said, interrupting her softly. What were trying to do is figure out where he was during the day, how he came to be where he was last night. Where was he when you went to bed?
Next to me, lying right next to me! Monica said.
What time was that?
Early. Wed been at my cousins house the day before. Her grandchildren were in town. We were literally exhaustedin bed by eight oclock!
And when you woke up this morninghe wasnt with you? Griffin asked.
Monica shook her head. But there was nothing unusual to that! Franklin loved to head out for walks first thing in the morning. He always told me that the longest and hardest part of writing was all in his head. When he went for his morning walks, he was really working. Of course, hed say that with a wink, so what was and wasnt really true...
Did he mention anything about going anywhere? Meeting up with someone? Any arrangements he might have made to meet up with a friend laterand he didnt tell you?
He had no reason to lie to me! Monica said. No reason. Everand he knew it.
But he did keep up regular correspondences with friends, right?
Of course. The police took the computer from his home office. And
She broke off, sighing.
What is it? Vickie asked gently.
They asked for his phone. But I dont have it. They didnt find his phone anywhere. And I cant find his laptop, either.
Griffin glanced at Vickie. Missing personal devices were suspicious.
Because there might be evidence on them.
Franklin did not meet up with a friend! He did not break in to that cellar to drink wine! Im telling you, I knew my husband, he...
She broke off, gritting her teeth. She was trying not to cry. The woman was truly in anguish; she was also furious.
I dont know when he went out. I dont why he went outor how he wound up at the restaurant. I do know one thing.
What is that, Mrs. Verne? Vickie asked.
Monica Verne startled them both, slamming a fist on the coffee table. My husband was murdered!
The motion seemed to be a cue.
In the yard, a dozen birds took flight, shrieking and cawing...
Griffin could see them as they let out their cries, sweeping into the sky.
A murder of crows...
And an unkindness of ravens...
As poetically cruel as the death of Franklin Verne.
2
I feel just terrible for Mrs. Verne, Vickie said. I mean, it was obviously quite a love match. I dont think that shes going to be quiet about thisshes going to let everyone out there know that she thinks that this was a murder.
Griffin glanced at Vickie as he drove, taking them back into downtown Baltimore. She was incrediblyand very sweetlya people person. She felt bad for Monica Verne, and seemed to understand both the womans pain and her determination.
Yes, she will let everyone know exactly what she thinks, including everyone in the media. The problem is that shes going to demand answers before people may have them. The ME is no ones fool, and certainly in no way a yes-man. He will not give his report until he has every single test in. So...
I guess any ME has to be careful. I mean, a writer isnt exactly a Michael Jackson, Heath Ledger or Prince, but...
Bite your tongue!
Im seriouswho recognizes writers? Stephen King, maybe. And okay, James Pattersonhe does a lot of his own commercials, too. But
People knew Franklin Verne. He was very popularhe gave to so many charities. He and his wife had no children, just one anotherand all their good deeds, Griffin said.
But youre saying its going to be a while before the ME will even say if it was a murder or an accidental death?
He will test for every poison out there, for every possibility, Griffin said.
So, what do you think? Vickie asked.
What do I think? he repeated.
That was, yes, indeed, the question, she said.
He glanced over at her again as they drove. Vickie was serious and thoughtful. He gritted his teeth, reminding himself that shed already been through two heinous cases. Shed never panicked; she behaved rationally.
She was about to go through the academy. It was a smart thing for her to do, the right choice; since they were staying together, she was going to get involved in his cases. He was glad shed been accepted into the program.
And still...the worryingthe wishing he could keep her from all dangerdid not go away.
I think, Griffin said, that were way too early in this investigation to have any idea as to what is really going on. For one thing, Im disturbed by the fact that no one can explain how Franklin Verne got into the restaurantmuch less down to the wine cellar.
And still...the worryingthe wishing he could keep her from all dangerdid not go away.
I think, Griffin said, that were way too early in this investigation to have any idea as to what is really going on. For one thing, Im disturbed by the fact that no one can explain how Franklin Verne got into the restaurantmuch less down to the wine cellar.
And the way he died... Well, I think theyll find out that it was drugs or alcohol poisoning. So similar to Poethough there are many theories on exactly what happened with Edgar Allan Poe, too, Vickie said. Some people believe he was just taken by pollstersit was an election time, and in the 1800s, voter fraud certainly existed. One theory is that Poe was kidnapped by ruffians so that he could vote and then vote againand that could be why he was dressed in clothing he hadnt owned.
That sounds like a possibility, Griffin said.
Ah! But some people believe it was a murder plot by the brothers of the womanSarah Elmira Royster Sheltonwhom he was about to marry. History is still undecided about whether they were or werent officially engaged when he died. She denied it sometimes, and sometimes said that it was true. I guess it was an understanding. She had been his first love, and his last, certainly. But she would lose the inheritance from her first husband if she married again.
Motive! Griffin said.
Yes. A thickened plot, Vickie agreed. Then again, some think he just got into a bar brawl, changed clothing for some more whiskey moneyand died in his delirium because he was an alcoholic and, therefore, finally drank himself to death.
And that sounds possible, too.
Vickie looked unhappy again. Poor Monica. People will assume that Franklin Verne fell off the wagon, got started on a binge and managed to sneak down to the restaurants wine cellar.
Maybe well get a lucky break. There are cameras at the front door.
They wont see Franklin Verne on those cameras. Im assuming the cops are checking them now, right?
Yep.
They wont find him.
Youre so sure.
I am absolutely certain, Vickie said. She hesitated, drawing in a breath and holding it. I believe that he was murdered.
There was something about her voice that made Griffin look over at her quickly. She was definitely deeply disturbed by something that went beyond their current speculation.
What is it? he asked her softly.
She glanced back over at him, thoughtful, yet appeared hesitant.
Theyd originally met under horrible circumstances; Vickie had been just seventeen, he in his early twenties, and shed been attacked by a serial killer.
Theyd met again when a new serial killer was terrorizing Boston, and since then, theyd worked together to rescue a friend and save the lives of many people, includingin the endVickies own life.
They knew each other deeply; knew they saw and felt what most others did not.
And, still, sometimes Vickie seemed timid, as though afraid that when she spoke aloud what she had to say would sound ridiculous.
Vickie! he persisted. Its me!
Okay! she said, and smiled. She took a breath. Remember this morning? You asked me if I was having a nightmare.
Yes. Griffin didnt press.
I was. Kind of. I was dreaming about Edgar Allan Poe. I was herein Baltimore. But it was way back in timeon the day that he was found in delirium before he was taken to the hospital for the few days before he died. Poe was talking to me. He warned me not to assume that it was like what had happened to him.
This was before I heard from Jackson? he asked her.
She nodded gravely. Yes, Griffin. Before. I mean, I thought I was dreaming about Poe because we were in Baltimore, because we had enjoyed that great dinner and the Black Bird and our waiter had kind of inundated us with Poe. But...
Griffin sat quietly.
The gift or curse that united Krewe membersthat had sent Adam Harrison on his quest for his special teamsmanifested in different ways. For most of them, it was simply seeing and speaking with the dead.
But because of what Griffin had seen and encountered over the years, there was little that he denied as possible.
Oh, he doubted most people! He was a horrible skeptic. Hed learned to be, since the world was far more filled with fake seers, psychics, mystics and mediums than most people would ever imagine.
But there were also those who truly had a sixth senseand it did, sometimes, manifest itself in the world of dreams and nightmares. This wasnt the first time Vickie had communicated with the dead in visions while sleeping.
So, under these circumstances, your nightmare meant something. Well assume that you had the dream for a reasonand that it wasnt an Edgar Allan Poe overdose at the restaurant. Did you see in this nightmare that the cameras at the front would get nothing?
Vickie shook her head. No, I just saw Poe himself in the nightmare. Maybe Poe was witnessing it, or... I dont know. But I believe that Franklin Verne was murdered, and that his murderer is too smart to be caught on film. Theres also a delivery entrance. Theres a driveway that goes down to the basement at the back, remember? Receiving for the kitchen is next to the wine cellar, right through one of the little doors.
Yes, Griffin told her. I walked the whole thing. So, tell mehow did he get in through the receiving door?
With a friend. Or a so-called friend.
A friend? So youre thinking accidentalor depraved indifference?
No, Vickie said again, emphatic. I think that Franklin trusted this personand shouldnt have. I dont think that he set out to drink. I believe he loved his wife as passionately as she loved him. She had no problem with him being a wild Hemingwayesque writershe didnt care until his excesses started to kill him. Only then did she put her foot down. And I believe he knew that everything she did was because she loved him.
Wow. You did just meet her, right? he asked, smilingbut with a sardonic tone.
Oh, ye of little faith! she said. I am good at reading people.
He laughed. I have faith. I buy what youre saying, too. I never heard anything other than that those twoFranklin and Monicahad a beautiful marriage.
Griffin shifted his attention for a moment to navigating the one-way streets throughout downtown around the University of Maryland campus.
And, we cant forget the Poe mania around hereand Poes stories! Vickie said. Theres The Cask of Amontillado!
Ah-ha! he said. The cask of Amontillado. Wine? A cask of wine. Saw lots of bottles down in the cellar, but no casks. Something I didnt notice?
Vickie nodded gravely. Im not talking about wineit was a short story by Poe, circa 1846. The narrator of the story is a man named Montresor. Hes very angry with and jealous of an acquaintance, Fortunato. Fortunato has insulted him gravely, you see. The story is haunting and gothic and creepyMontresor is dressed for the carnival season in black, and Fortunato is in all the colors of the jester. Anyway, to make a long story short
Too late, Griffin assured her, which earned him a glower.
Montresor tricks Fortunato with wine, promising him a most unique sherryand saying that if hes too busy, he can get one of Fortunatos competitors to come try it. Fortunato is too vain to allow someone else to try the wine. Montresor never explains what the insult was that hes so angry abouthes just on a vendetta and he explains how hes become judge and jury. In the end, he walls poor Fortunato up in a cryptand we learn he remains there, undisturbed, for fifty years. Pretty harsh.