If you are just jumping into this paranormal murder mystery, start here with Part 1.
“Ses, you barely ate.”
I eyed Regan over the top of my third cup of java. “I barely slept, too. Dreams all night of this black bird pecking at my neck.” I swallowed, touched the spot just above my left collar.
“A raven?” Lindsay reached across the table and snatched another piece of bacon off of my plate.
“Poe was famous for his raven.” Regan paused mid-sip. “‘Once upon a midnight dreary’ and all that?”
“A dead one. Pecking at my neck.”
“Chamber door,” she corrected.
“Yeah.”
I’d awakened more than once to the dream, the nightmare, the raven, whatever it was standing on my chest and me waving my arms in the darkness to shoo it away. Only, of course, it wasn’t there, even when I could still feel the weight of it on my chest. Even when I rolled over and pulled one of the extra pillows over my head, I could hear something, like wings flapping, its beak tap, tap, tapping. The whites of Victor’s eyes and his Southern drawl whispering something I tried to shut out.
I couldn’t tell the girls all that, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it either. Jesus fuck. Was it too early for whiskey?
“Not the weekend we were planning.” Regan reached over and pulled my hand into hers and away from my neck. “Maybe we should just go home before you open up a vein. Were you scratching at it all night? It’s red.”
I slipped my hand out of hers and grabbed the last piece of bacon before Lindsay could snatch it. I shoved it into my mouth. A good base is what I needed if I was gonna start drinking.
“Can’t. Police investigation and all. You heard what the deputy said,” said Linds, sitting back, her eye on my bacon.
“Cause of death was inconclusive,” said Regan, and she was right, but still. The sheriff had shown up about ten minutes after we’d called it in. Two cops in the whole town, and this one showed up dressed like the Scarlet Witch, flowing red hair and a spark of anger in her eyes. The ambulance came a few minutes later, and the rest of us stood out in the cold, waiting around to give our statements.
“So, come on. No way we can go home.” Lindsay crossed her arms in front of her, and I could see the pout bubbling up. “We waited all summer for the Haunted Ball and a look at the Ravenwood Estate. I spent months looking for the right dress. Can’t expect me to just go home without wearing it. This was supposed to be a fun weekend. I haven’t even had a chance to window shop.”
I smiled, mentally trying to shoo that raven out of my head. “Since when do you window shop?”
“Right?” she said and perked up. “I don’t look; I buy. Now let’s get to some shopping. And I’ll buy you a cute little scarf so you don’t look like you made out with a vampire. Can we?”
Regan leaned in, her hand resting on mine again. I hadn’t even realized it was shaking until she did. “Ses? It’s cool if you want to blow town; I won’t be upset. Maybe we can come back next year. Your call.”
“Why not my call?” Lindsay sat up, elbows thumping down on the table as her chin dropped into her hands. Her eyes flitted up at me, ignoring our mutual friend.
“Because you weren’t the one sitting next to the dead guy. Our girl was.”
“I never get to do anything cool.”
I looked from one bestie to another. The one in full pout now, um, because she didn’t find herself sitting next to a dead guy? Go figure. The other was trying to look out for her friend. But really, as creepy as the raven had been, and thank fuck I was mostly drunk when I discovered the recently deceased Victor Hughes, the last thing I wanted to do was go home. I just needed to get that pesky bird out of my head and focus on something else. I motioned for the server to bring the check, and then leaned in, pulling my girls in with me like we were about to conduct a seance, which seemed appropriate here in Creepyville USA.
“We’re not going home, bitchachos. There’s shopping to do.” A squeeze from Regan’s hand and a squee from Linds told me I’d made the right call, but I couldn’t help but feel like there was something we were missing. The raven was still there in the corner of my mind. Tap, tap, tapping for attention.
“Here? There are no cute earrings here.”
Lindsay threw me a look, and I pretended not to see it. “No, but you heard Victor last night. This is his bookstore.” Of course, it was, I thought, looking up at the sign. It hung out over the sidewalk at the end of a thin rod, a massive black raven with the word Nevermore stenciled across it in ghoulish white letters. The paint seemed to drip from the bottom of each letter, and I wondered if they’d done that on purpose, or if they’d hung it up wet and realized it worked.
“Okay, but how about if I go down this way and find some earrings? We can meet up in a few and see if there’s a place to grab a drink, huh?”
“Go with her?” I looked at Regan, and her look spoke volumes. Please? I mouthed and blew her a series of kisses. She sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “I owe you,” I said as she pushed past me.
“Big time,” she grumbled, and then she grabbed Lindsay’s arm and spun her around. “Let’s go find something that’ll look amaze-balls on you, Linds. Maybe you can pick something out for me?” Lindsay’s squeak told me all I needed to know, and I watched them sashay off down the sidewalk, where rows of shops on either side of the little cobblestone street beckoned.
Had they not seen them? The loofah guy and his personal bar of soap from last night? They’d brushed past us, looking none too worse for wear after last night, cut us off on the sidewalk, him grumbling about something and her with a frown. Maybe as hungover as I was. Maybe just as annoying as I remembered them from the night before. He was in jeans and a worn leather jacket, her in a pair of leggings and a black hoodie, but they were easy to spot — all up in each other’s shit like they’d been throughout the tour.
I pulled the collar of my jacket up and followed them in, stopping abruptly as a huge dude in a long black coat slipped out. He turned and gave me a once over, his pale blue eyes piercing under a shock of raven hair, and then he was gone, and I was through the door. Did this town have any normal people in it? I shrugged, glancing back at the door for a second, then turned around when I heard Loofah’s voice.
“Do you know how far we came for this?” A man’s voice rose up over the stacks of bookshelves that cluttered the tiny shop. Was this a store or an episode of Hoarders? I looked around, eyeing the table in front of me littered with books and Poe tchotchkes. I spotted a Poe bobblehead and gave it a tap, setting his head to agreeing to anything I might say. Everywhere else were shelves of all types stuffed with tomes that looked like they’d never met a speck of dust they didn’t like. Old book smell, like week-old piles of leaves, filled the room, and somewhere, a maple butter candle was burning.
“L.A. Do we look like we belong in P.A.?” Soap was talking, and the pitch of her voice rose with every word, as if she was speaking with the manager. “We brought the cashier's check. Blank even. Can we just get a look?”
I couldn’t even get one myself, I thought, as I peered up from the front table, my fingers lingering on a “previously loved” edition of The TellTale Heart and Other Poe Tales in paperback. The heart sticker showed it was only five dollars, and the cracked spine and turned up corners gave away the amount of love the book had seen by its previous owners. When I glanced up, my eyes drawn to the old school cash register mounted on a counter and the slender, dark-haired girl behind it, I couldn’t see Soap or Loofah. But she surely could, and the look on her face said she was already over her peak customer service smile.
“You understand he just died last night.” I winced and looked down as her eyes flitted my way. “My brother’s body is on a slab at the coroner’s in Easton, and you’re already trying to pick through his things.” I took a step to the right, out of her view, the other two still out of sight behind a hulking display case. After that body blow, I didn’t wanna see the looks on their faces, even though I did. What the hell were they on about?
The place was dusty, as if no one ever came into the store to actually look at books, but Not Poe, and his gothy assistant, clearly put the time into cataloging everything. It was ordered chaos, and I was sure they could find any book in their collection without a thought. The labels on the shelves looked new, the books in alphabetical order by category. Seances. Reading bones. Voodoo. History of Witches. The Mothman? Was that a thing? I slid between two shelving units, scanning the labels and the titles, none of them really registering as Loofah chimed back in.
“Yes, but the book is invaluable to my research. And I know others are here seeking it themselves. I saw Aimes from Harvard and Alice Foster from New York. I’m sure there are others, all of them with checks or balance transfers ready to go.” His voice was nasal, and I imagined him standing there, pushing his glasses up on his nose. Did he even wear glasses?
“I’m sorry,” said the little goth again. Her voice, at first hardened, was already fading. “I don’t know.”
“We were friends. Long-time friends, Charlie. We met at Parkway Central in Philadelphia that one time, remember? He would have wanted me to have it, and I have more than enough on hand. Ask for more, if you like. I realize this must be hard.”
A few more steps as the room fell silent, and I slipped noiselessly towards the back, closer to the negotiators. Ears peeled, I thought I could hear the little goth girl draw in a deep breath, see the way her face paled. Jesus fuck these guys were dicks.
“Listen, we’re not leaving here without it,” said Soap, her tone pointed and now a little stabby. “We came a long way. Just do this deal with us, and we’ll be out of your hair once and for all. Imagine what you could do with this place with that cold hard cash in hand.”
My finger lingered on the dark cherry spine of a book, the silvered letters spelling out “The Unadulterated Works of Edgy Ellen Hoe.” I blinked, looked again, and pulled the book from the shelf, then stepped out from between the stacks, turning to face Loofah and Soap, my scowl fully registering based on how the two of them reacted. “So, you’re telling me you came a long way for no deal? That’s gotta sting a little.”
They turned, the little goth still frowning, but I could see the relief in her eyes as the pointed stares changed targets. Soap opened her mouth, but I stepped forward, pushing between them, my newest find in hand. Linds would love it. I slid the book carefully onto the counter near the cash register to make sure everyone saw the title and grabbed a nearby Poe bobblehead for good measure. “I need this little guy for the dash in my Subaru,” I said with a smile and flourish, my eyes only for the little goth they’d identified as “Charlie.”
Soap’s mouth popped open, and I expected thought bubbles of frustration and rage to pop into the air over her head, based on her minor tirade. I looked at her and Loofah, who looked a little piqued, similar to how I felt after all the bourbon and a dead body, and it was clear why she was angry.
“Maybe if you’d gotten some dick last night, you wouldn’t be this bitchy in the morning.”
It was the coup de grâce we all needed and sent the bath buddies off in a huff — well, one of them huffing, the other clearly confused by my comment or my purchase, or both. They wound their way through the dusty maze, and a breath of cool morning air swept into the room as they swept right on out of it. The door clicked shut, and I turned and found the Charlie staring.
“That’s, um…you know who Edgy Ellen Hoe is, right? That’s not exactly Poe.”
“Smut?” I wanted to giggle. Linds would be squealing and dancing from toe to toe right now. I was picturing it and hearing her voice through my lips. “Poe smut is a thing?” I set the bobblehead down, and little Edgar answered my question with a bob of his head while I cracked the cover. Page flip, page flip, and suddenly the dedication appeared and drew me in.
“To lovers lost and longing more, these tales unlock a secret door. Once upon a midnight daring, in these tales, my lust I’m baring. Enter here and linger long, in shadows deep and passions strong. Seek here what Poe could only hint—a darker thrill, a deeper print. In chambers haunted, nevermore—come taste my shadows, and explore.”
“Wow.” I had to read it again, and then I looked up. The little goth girl had her eye on the pages, a wry smile on her black-shaded lips and a little more color in her cheeks. Maybe all she needed was a moment now that Mr. and Mrs. Clean had gone. “You have a smut section in this bookstore?”
“You were just in it. Our store carries everything,” she said, her face reverting back to standard ‘by something and fuck off’ customer service mode. “Poe this, Poe that, Poe everything. Even Poe smut.”
“Oh.” What did I say? I was eavesdropping on your conversation and just grabbed this book randomly to make it look like I’m a real customer. “I think I misread the title.” Nice. Maybe she’d fall for it. I threw a little shrug in there for good measure, and tapped Bobble Poe again, sending him into a fit of agreement.
“So, you don’t want it?” She was ignoring the ancient cash register and holding an iPad at the ready. “It’s a hundred and fifty. And the bobble is fifteen.”
Customer service was not highlighted in this place’s Yelp reviews. Her ‘fuck off, tourist’ vibe was in overdrive, but I nodded. “Oh no, I’ll take it,” I said, fishing my wallet out of my little black cross-body. Linds would absolutely die for this; no way I could deny her. “Sorry. I mean, I just pushed into your conversation.”
“Ended it actually,” she said, taking my card and inserting it.
“Yeah, sorry. I was browsing, and,” I looked over at her, “they sorta seemed like assholes to you. I just thought maybe I could... I dunno. I worked retail for a bit. Some customers can go fuck themselves.”
I almost detected a smile at that, as she handed the card back to me, then the whole iPad, so I could sign.
“I have a Poe bag that I think will fit that perfectly. I’ve read a little of Edgy’s poetry, and it’s, well, whoa. I recommend a nice, bloody cab and a hot bubble bath, if you know what I mean.”
She took back the iPad and pulled the little black bag up from behind the counter. The name of the shop was etched in still darker black, and I could see the faintest outlines of ravens in flight up and down the glossy paper. Nice touch!
“I think you’re right. But if you don’t mind me asking, what was all the ruckus about? This seems like a happy little place, and who comes into a bookstore making demands? I guess they weren’t looking for a first edition Edgy Ellen Poe.” But they were definitely after something. Her face, her voice, even her posture when I first saw her said something. And she was clearly a little more than shook up.
“No. They weren’t. There was a book my brother had. A manuscript. Definitely a Poe first edition, if it can be verified, and those two were here to buy it.”
“Oh, that’s totally a jackpot for your brother. But could he even part with it?” I gestured towards the bookshelves around us and shrugged for effect. “This place is like a monument to Poe. Who could part with that kind of treasure?” The quaint little store made me smile. I’d never really thought about owning a bookstore or surrounding myself with books like this, but it did have some charm. The place was warm, intimate and smelled like fall and history and candle wax. It was like being on the couch in front of a fire. Yeah, I could see it. But what wine went with old books?
When I turned back, that cozy picture in my head, almost hearing the crackling of the fire, I found the little goth girl white as a sheet again. She swallowed and handed me my bag. “Yes, true,” she said, “but my brother died last night, and no one even knows where the book is. He took it to his grave.”
Author Notes: And here we go, bitchachos, as Sesame would say — the mystery is afoot! I leaned into Poe from the start in this story — what could the mystery be?
Aha, a local bookseller just so happens to have stumbled upon an original, unpublished Edgar Allan Poe manuscript, which would be worth a fortune, of course. Worth enough to attract a lot of nerdtastic attention and a murder. But whodunnit?
Oh, one last note — that Edgy Ellen Hoe thing? That was totally spur of the moment. It appeared out of nowhere. I just needed Sesame to grab a book right there, and it hit me that there was probably Poe smut, and wouldn’t that be funny? Hopefully it is. I wonder what some of that smut might be like.
Either way, if you’re enjoying the ride so far, please share. The more, the merrier, after all.
Go on to episode 3 below:
Sip, Swallow & Scream
“Little sister?” Regan passed the nip of bourbon over, and I dotted my cider with the last few drops.