But as they rolled around the bend and followed the gravel path, they were blinded by the flash and twirl of lights splashing red and blue into the heavens.
He counted six.
Six cruisers.
They were number seven.
Unlucky,his wife would tell him.
But he wasn’t given a chance to contemplate their presence when his door was yanked open and he was motioned out intothe steady downpour with the sullen faced man in jeans and a long, black trenchcoat.
“Thank you for coming so quickly.”
I didn’t think I had a choice,he thinks, but keeps to himself.
“I was told it was urgent,” he says instead.
The detective inclines his head. “I believe it is. This way, please.”
There was nothing he would rather do less than follow, but his legs shuffle after the other man up the stone steps.
The foyer is a dark wasteland of brittle leaves, filth and debris. It stinks of water damage and mold. It’s nearly enough to make him sick.
“How well did you know the Ushers?”
He shrugged and eyed the dozens … hundreds of mirrors. One on top of the other. Hung in haphazard clusters all down the creepy corridor. They seemed to be everywhere.
“Not very. Hardly at all, honestly. We had just gotten into talks about expanding my farm. Hiring more hands. Mr. Usher was offering to become a silent partner.”
“A guy you didn’t know?”
He understood the doubt. He had barely believed it himself when Marcus Usher appeared on his doorstep with the offer.
“He said he liked my strawberries,” he explained, feeling a bit stupid. “What’s this about? Did something happen?”
The detective shrugged. “We don’t know yet. We’re hoping you can shed some light on the situation.” The man continued along the unsettling corridor and he followed. “When was the last time you saw Marcus Usher?”
He scratched his head. “He and his sons came to the farm with the paperwork. It was during that storm we had. Next I heard, they’d slid off the road and didn’t make it.”
The detective nodded. “Did you go to the funeral?”
“Of course.”
The man stopped and faced him. “What about the girl?”
That made him blink. “The niece? I didn’t know she existed until the funeral. Marcus never spoke about her. The boys didn’t either, now that I’m thinking about it. I was surprised to see her, but again, we only just started talking so…”
The other man’s eyes narrowed in the murky gloom.
“What did you think of her?”
He shrugged. “Hard to judge someone at a funeral.”
But he tried to think back on that devastating afternoon. The ground was frozen and he’d wondered how they managed to dig three holes. Money, he mused. With enough of it, there wasn’t much that couldn’t be accomplished.
But the girl.
He remembered seeing her standing at the lip of the graves. Small. Pale. She hadn’t said a word but stared down at the caskets with numb acceptance.
