Clancy looked like a tyke on Christmas morning, ready to pounce on the gifts under the tree. “You’ll act as our temporary chef? That’s fantastic.”
“I didn’t say that, but perhaps I dismissed the idea too quickly.” Now she had a reason to probe what was going on at the house.
“You’d cook for Rick Usher, his wife, her assistant, who’s also Rick’s publicist, and me.” Clancy reached into his back pocket for his wallet, extracted a business card, and gave it to Val. “Call me tomorrow afternoon and we can talk more about it. That’ll give me time to run the idea by Rick and his wife.”
Val seized the opening he’d given her. She pointed to the living room. “Couldn’t you run the idea by Rick right now?”
Clancy took a moment to answer. “Rosana, his wife, is in charge of the household. She wouldn’t like it if I talked to him first.”
Val scraped a dinner plate and put it in the dishwasher. “You’re Rick Usher’s voice tonight. Did you sign books for him too?”
“The ladies didn’t bring books to be signed. I think most of them read a library copy or the e-book of Rue Cler. We brought signed books as gifts for them.”
If someone had brought a book to be signed, Granddad probably would have faked a hand injury that made it impossible for him to hold a pen. “Does Rick Usher always wear a hat, even indoors? Most men his age remove their hats when they go into someone’s house.”
“He took up wearing a cap when he started going bald. The hat and the black clothing are part of his brand.”
The tinted glasses must be part of his brand too. Yesterday Emmett Flint had worn those signature items, maybe to impersonate Rick Usher.
Judith bustled into the kitchen. “You must be feeling better, Val. You’re not as pale.” She turned to Clancy. “It was good of Rick to come even though his throat is bothering him. We don’t want to wear him out.”
“Rick always enjoys meeting his fans, but you’re right, it’s time for us to go.”
As Judith and Clancy left the kitchen, Val fingered his business card. The black lettering on the plain white card read Clancy Curren, Author. The card included his phone number and e-mail address, but nothing about any books he’d written either with Rick Usher or on his own.
The book club members stayed only a short time after the authors left. While Val cleaned up the kitchen, she could hear the women talking in the hall, thanking Judith profusely for the wonderful food and the amazing experience of meeting Rick Usher.
When the last one left, Judith returned to the kitchen, glowing. “That was such a thrill to have Rick Usher here.”
Val slowed down her kitchen cleanup so she could ask Judith some questions. “How did you arrange for him to come tonight?”
“The last time the club met, when we chose the book for this meeting, I found out the Ushers lived around here. Rosana and I were sorority sisters. I contacted her, met her for lunch, and mentioned my book club would discuss her husband’s latest book at the next meeting. Then I asked if she could prevail on him to stop by the meeting. Rosana said she’d try. I was surprised she succeeded.”
“Why is that?”
“I’d heard he might be in poor health. I expected Rosana to come with him, but Clancy came instead, which was fine. He was quite charming.”
Charming and deceitful. Val put the last dirty plate into the dishwasher. “That takes care of the kitchen.”
“I hope it’s the first of many dinners you make for the book club. I’ll lobby the others in the club to hire you for upcoming meetings. They all cook the dinners themselves, but their food isn’t as good as yours. I would have made tonight’s dinner, but then my husband was called out of town, and I couldn’t do everything myself. That’s why I contacted you at the last minute.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you did.”
“I still owe you money. I’ll go get my checkbook.”
Val packed up her pots and pans. Granddad’s client was probably Usher’s wife. She must have suspected her ailing husband would balk at the last minute and had backups in the wings. Amazing how far she’d gone to deceive rather than disappoint her sorority sister. There had to be more to this story.
Judith gave Val a check and a copy of Poe Revisited. “This is a collection of Rick Usher stories. Clancy left it for you as a souvenir to remember this evening.”
“I’m sure I’ll never forget tonight.” Even without a souvenir.
Val drove home with her hands tense on the wheel. Granddad shouldn’t have impersonated another man, even with the blessing of the man’s wife. At least the wife hadn’t gone as far as standing next to an imposter and introducing him as her husband. No wonder she’d sent Clancy to take her place.
Val reviewed the conversation she’d had with Usher’s coauthor. Strictly speaking, Clancy hadn’t lied, but he’d chosen his words carefully in order to mislead her.
What was the upshot of tonight’s deceit? Granddad earned some money. Judith impressed her book club. The club members were thrilled to meet a famous author. Yet Val couldn’t convince herself that no harm would come from the ruse. Tonight, Granddad looked and dressed like Rick Usher. Yesterday Emmett Flint had looked and dressed like Rick Usher. Then he died suddenly. A bad omen. Val wouldn’t be able to shake her anxiety until Granddad was safely home and she convinced him to shed his new look.
* * *
Granddad’s Buick wasn’t out front when Val arrived home and parked in the driveway. She hoped he wouldn’t have too long a drive home. He didn’t see as well as he used to at night, and the strain of impersonating someone had probably tired him out.
After being on her feet since daybreak, she was tired too, but she’d wait up for him. She got ready for bed, wrapped herself in a warm robe her mother had left in a closet, and went to the nook off the upstairs hall. With her cell phone beside her in case Granddad called, she lounged in the window seat. From there she had a view of the street and could hear him when he opened the heavy front door.
As a child visiting her grandparents, she’d spent many hours in the window seat reading, watching what was going on outside, and listening to the voices that drifted up from below. The nook and upstairs hall, both open to the stairwell, had allowed her to eavesdrop on the grown-ups talking downstairs. What had she overheard? Nothing earthshaking, nothing she remembered now.
She curled up in the window seat with her new book, Poe Revisited, and studied the author’s picture on the back cover. The bearded Rick Usher in a driver’s cap and tinted glasses looked younger than Granddad, but the publicity photo could have been taken years ago. That photo might have served as the model for Emmett Flint as he used the tools of his trade to age himself. No wonder he’d reminded Bethany of someone as she looked down at him on the ground. As a Rick Usher fan, she must have seen the author’s photo on his books.
Val opened to the table of contents and was surprised to see that Edgar Allan Poe had written half the book. Each Poe story had a Rick Usher counterpart. “The Fall of the House of Usher” was paired with “The Rise of the House of Usher.” The Rick Usher riff on the “The Tell-Tale Heart” was titled “The Tall-Tale Heart.”
Val read “The Fall of the House of Usher.” Poe’s story of Roderick Usher, tortured by the fear that he’d buried his sister Madeline alive, was as creepy as she remembered it. She had just finished the story when her phone chimed.
She fumbled to locate it between the seat cushions and read the caller ID. “Hey, Gunnar. How did your rehearsals go today?”
“Okay. I went over my lines with the director this afternoon. After tonight’s full-cast rehearsal, he said I did a good job. He thinks I’ll nail it by the dress rehearsal.”
She picked up on the discrepancy between his upbeat words and his tone. “You sound a little down.”
“One of the other actors told us some disturbing news about Emmett’s death. The police have ordered an autopsy.”
Val shot up from the window seat. An autopsy meant suspected murde
r, at least in her recent experience. But not always, she reminded herself. Maybe an autopsy was needed only to clarify the cause of death. Through the window she saw Granddad’s car pull up at the curb. Relieved, she sat back down.
“Val? Are you there?” Gunnar said.
“Yes. Is there any question about what killed Emmett?”
“One of the cast members talked to his sister. The doctors told her he died from cardiac arrhythmia. She was at Emmett’s house when the police searched it for prescription drugs.”
“Maybe he overdosed on a drug that affected his heart.” She watched Granddad emerge from the car and walk up the path to the front porch. What would he say when he heard about the autopsy?
“Emmett lived in Bayport, so the town police may know about this. Could you ask Chief Yardley what’s going on? Since he’s your grandfather’s buddy and owes you a favor, you might get more out of him than I would.”
“I’ll try.” She glanced out the window and noticed a car that hadn’t been there earlier parked behind the Buick. As the front door opened with a familiar squeak, a shadowy figure darted up the path to the house. Val’s heart leapt into her throat. “Gotta go. Talk to you tomorrow.”
She tossed the phone on the window seat and headed for the stairs.
“Why did you pretend to be Rick Usher?” A woman’s voice carried up from the hall below. “Who put you up to it?”
Chapter 5
Val recognized the emphatic voice of the woman challenging Granddad. It belonged to Simone, the book club member who’d read all of Usher’s books. Obviously an Usher fan, she must have seen him in person in the past and realized Granddad wasn’t who he claimed to be. Why hadn’t she exposed him as a fraud in front of everyone?
“Please come in,” Granddad said. “Don’t stand out in the cold.”
A polite invitation, meant to calm Simone down, though judging by the tremor Val detected in his voice, he was none too calm himself.
“Okay, but I’m not staying long. You got your voice back fast.”
Val hesitated at the top of the stairs. She could go down and tip the odds in Granddad’s favor, by making it a two-against-one skirmish. Or she could stay put and find out what Granddad might not tell her. As long as he didn’t need help, she had no reason to move. If she went down, Simone would probably accuse her of being his partner in crime.
Granddad coughed, possibly to suggest his voice would fade. “What brings you here?”
“I followed Clancy’s car from Judith’s house to the strip mall where your car was parked. Then I followed you.”
Ha. Granddad, the super sleuth, hadn’t even noticed her tailing him.
“Would you like to take off your coat? We can talk in the sitting room.” Granddad’s voice still sounded shaky.
“I’m not here to schmooze,” Simone snapped. “Now I know why you faked laryngitis. You don’t sound anything like Rick. The other imposter did.”
Val’s pulse kicked up a notch. The other imposter might have been Emmett Flint. As an actor, he could imitate a voice better than most people. The similarity between him and Granddad made sense if both were impersonating Rick Usher.
“You didn’t hear my voice at the book club,” Granddad said. “How did you figure out I wasn’t Usher?”
“You gobbled up the dessert. Rick bit into a worm inside an apple when he was a kid and couldn’t stand apples after that.”
Poor Granddad. Betrayed by a tell-tale tarte Tatin. Val stifled a laugh.
“How come you know so much about Usher?” Granddad’s voice sounded stronger as he switched from defense to offense.
“None of your business. Who are you and how dare you pose as Rick Usher?”
Val wouldn’t blame Granddad for saying None of your business in return. But placating Simone would make more sense because she could make trouble for him.
“My name is Don Myer. I was hired to take Usher’s place at the book club. There’s nothing illegal about it. I have a contract to represent him.”
“What does that mean? Who signed that contract?”
“Rick Usher’s signature is on it.”
“How do you know he signed it? Did you watch him?”
Val was getting the hang of Simone’s interrogation method. Don’t stop after one question when you can pile on more.
“No, I didn’t watch him sign it,” Granddad said.
“Did you ever actually speak to Rick Usher? Or even see him?”
“We talked on Friday.”
Val was amazed at how patiently Granddad was answering questions.
“How do you know you talked to the real Rick Usher?” Simone said. “Would you know the difference between him and an imposter?”
Her grandfather took his time answering her. “I met Rick Usher at his family home. Why would an impersonator be there instead of the man who lives in the house?”
A momentary silence suggested that Granddad had stumped Simone with that question or that she was weighing whether to answer it.
“Rick Usher might be dead.” Her voice sounded tight as if she was forcing it through a narrowed throat. “And the people who profit from his writing could be covering it up.”
Whoa! Val hadn’t foreseen that turn. Behind Simone’s abrasive façade beat the heart of a conspiracy nut. Like most conspiracy theories, this one didn’t convince Val.
“What gave you that idea?” Granddad’s voice betrayed no skepticism.
“After Rick Usher moved here, he kept writing books, but he changed his other habits. He stopped giving interviews and speeches. No more signings at bookstores either. Last summer I read that he was ailing and close to death,” Simone said softly. Her voice had lost its angry edge. “Recently, I found out he’d be doing some book signings for the first time in years. Only it wasn’t the real Rick Usher at those signings, and nobody noticed except me.”
“I can see why you’re upset,” Granddad said. “You obviously know the real Rick. Why don’t you go to the Ushers’ house and ask to see him?”
“I’d be turned away at the door.” Simone spat out the words as if they were bitter pills.
Why would she be turned away? Val expected Granddad to ask that obvious question.
After a long silence, he said, “What do you want from me?” His voice was quiet and soothing, as if he were placating a child who’d just had a tantrum.
“Stop pretending you’re Rick Usher.” Simone stressed each syllable. “If you ever do it again, I’ll expose you as an imposter.”
The front door squeaked and then slammed shut. Val hurried back to the window seat and watched until Simone drive off.
Whew. So she wasn’t going to make trouble over what Granddad had done tonight. What’s more, her threat to reveal him as an imposter might even keep him from repeating his performance. Val couldn’t have hoped for a better outcome.
She went downstairs as Granddad hung up his new car coat in the hall closet. He turned and eyed her with suspicion through his bifocals. “I thought you’d gone to bed. You were lurking up there listening, weren’t you?”
“I couldn’t help overhearing. I was in the window seat when Simone pounced on you.”
“So that’s her name. And pounced is the right word. I don’t like it when you eavesdrop, but I’m glad you didn’t come downstairs while she was here.” His hand trembled as he scratched his head, suggesting the encounter with Simone had unnerved him. “It threw me for a loop to see you at the book club tonight. At least you were smart enough not to let on you knew me.”
“Let’s go to the kitchen, Granddad. You look like you could use a hot toddy.” Grandma’s favorite tranquilizer. Val wanted him calm before telling him about Emmett Flint’s suspicious death.
“Just give me plain old tea,” he said on the way to the kitchen. “I need a clear head to decide on my next step.”
“Tea with lemon and honey will make your sore throat feel better.” She grinned at him.
He laughed. While she made the tea
, he sat at the breakfast table where they ate most of their meals. He propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his fist. She left him in peace to ponder what she hoped were second thoughts about posing as a famous author.
He looked up as she set the teapot and mugs on the table. “A bunch of coincidences added up to a lot of bad luck for me tonight. You cooking for the book club. You making a dessert with apples. Then a Rick Usher fanatic catching me out for eating it.”
“Coincidence? Not for those last two. I proposed crème caramel for dessert. Judith switched to tarte Tatin at the request of one club member. She didn’t tell me who asked for an apple dessert, but we can make a good guess.”
“Simone. She set a trap. And here I was feeling sorry for her. Clancy should have told me about Usher’s apple hang-up.”
“He probably didn’t know.” The tea had steeped long enough. Val filled their mugs. “Usher’s aversion to apples goes back to when he was a child. Maybe the subject never came up in his conversations with Clancy, who’s around forty years younger.”
Granddad stirred sugar into his tea. “Simone knew. She’s got to be thirty years younger than Usher.”
“She’s a fan. She could have read about the apples in an interview he gave a long time ago. Or she might have had a personal relationship with him.” Val squeezed lemon juice into her tea. “Cheer up. Simone did you a favor and didn’t tell everyone at the book club that you weren’t Usher. You’re safe as long as you don’t stand in for him again.”
“I agreed to do it next weekend. A bunch of authors with books related to Poe were invited to a bookstore in Baltimore.”
“Circumstances have changed. You have a good reason to back out. Once you tell your client what Simone said—”
Granddad ran his hand over his head as if he had hair to sweep back. “Why would I do that? I don’t want to lose a job that pays well. I’d rather take a chance that Simone doesn’t know about this shindig in Baltimore. The publicity for it mentions a couple of writers who’ll be there, but not Rick Usher by name.”
The Tell-Tale Tarte Page 4
