“Mrs. Poe, did you ever meet the owner of the house, Amanda Souleyret?” Fletcher asked.

Eloise waved at a gnat that was dive-bombing her head. “Of course I did. Amanda and I go way back. As a matter of fact, I’m a bit peeved with her. I saw her this morning, but she didn’t even say hello. It’s been a while since she’s been by. She didn’t need to babysit her renters, no, no. Those boys, bless their hearts, they were good kids. Quiet, respectful. Hardworking. No loud, crazy parties. They’d dog-sit for us when we went out of town. This is just so horrible, I don’t understand how—”

Sam interrupted her. “Wait, Mrs. Poe, you saw Amanda this morning?”

“Well, yes. She’s looking thin. She came to the fence and said hi to Tervis, then went in the back door. She wasn’t in there long, no more than ten minutes. Came out, got into her car—she has a new car, too, a nice Lexus—then drove off. Didn’t even bother to say hi, and it’s been at least two years since I saw her last.” Her eyes got wide, her mouth opened into a little O.

“You don’t think she had anything to do with the boys, do you? Oh my!”

Sam spoke to Fletcher, sotto voce. “The sister. It had to be.”

Eloise had sharp hearing. “Oh no, I’m sure it was Amanda. I was upset she didn’t stick her head in to say hello.”

“Have you ever met Amanda’s sister, Robin, Mrs. Poe?”

“No, I haven’t. Edgar has, though. Yes, my husband’s name is Edgar Poe. Edgar Georgio Poe—his parents had a diabolical sense of humor.”

Fletcher was already turning toward the Poes’ house. “Ma’am, could we speak to Edgar? Mr. Poe? We need to speak with Amanda’s sister right away, and we don’t have any contact information for her.”

She started trotting after him. “Well, Edgar’s not all there, if you know what I mean. Alzheimer’s. Bless his heart, he started to go two years ago, and now he only truly recognizes me and the boys, and that’s not all the time. We can talk to him, but I can’t guarantee you’ll find out anything worthwhile. Why don’t you just ask Amanda for her sister’s information?”

Fletcher stopped and patted the old woman on the shoulder. “I’m sorry to tell you this, Mrs. Poe, but Amanda was killed last night. So you see, it’s very important that we speak with your husband right now.”

Eloise had done an admirable job of keeping it together, but with one last “Oh my,” the tears began to fall down her wrinkled face.

Chapter 33

THE POES’ HOUSE was clean and neat, set up almost exactly like their neighboring town house, but crammed cheek-to-jowl full of sixty-plus-odd years of a traveling life. Tchotchkes, antiques, tribal masks, French furniture, Italian paintings, bookshelves full of multicolored spines and squat Zen Buddhas competed for attention from what remained of the pristine ivory walls, which were covered in expertly taken black-and-white photographs. Everything was in its place; order reigned. But it seemed almost as if the whole house was holding its breath. If you moved one thing, the entire effect would be lost, crumbling down around their ears.

Eloise saw them looking, gave them a benevolent smile. “I took the photos. Edgar was in the Army, you know, and we moved all over the world. I needed something to keep me occupied. Even when he retired, we both still had the travel bug, and we weren’t blessed with children, so it was always the two of us, off on our adventures.”

They followed her into the surprisingly modern and uncluttered kitchen. Tervis the dog heard his master and came barreling in through the dog door. He turned out to be an adorable beagle who promptly sat on Sam’s foot, begging for ear rubs.

Eloise poured out a small tot of brandy. “Sometimes Edgar likes a little drink in the afternoon. It seems to help him remember.”

They paraded back into the living room and up the stairs. She stopped at the top.

“Let’s not tell him about the boys just yet, or Amanda. I don’t want him getting upset. I’ll tell him later, when I think the time is right.”

Fletcher nodded. “Of course.”

Eloise led them to a spacious room overlooking the street out front, a den of sorts, a man’s space, with flags from various sports teams on the walls, plus more of the unusual detritus from downstairs. The room was completed with two comfortable armchairs and a flat-screen television tuned to Fox News. It was turned down low, but Sam clearly heard the words assassination attempt at Teterboro this morning.

Xander should be home by now. She just wanted to see him, hear from his own mouth exactly what had happened. She pushed the thought away; she needed to stay focused.

Edgar Poe was trim and neat, bald as an egg, wearing comfortable slippers, jeans and a blue denim button-down. A set of binoculars sat on the table beside him, and a sweating glass of water. He smiled at Eloise when she came in, gaily singing, “We have visitors, Edgar, isn’t that nice? This is Fletcher and this is Samantha. They want to talk about Robin and Amanda. I’ve brought you a drink to celebrate.”

His voice was gravelly, but strong. He rolled his eyes and took the drink from her, setting it next to the binoculars. “Eloise, I may be losing my mind, but I’m not an idiot. I saw the police cars. Did something happen to the boys?”

She deflated immediately, all the air gone from her sails, and her resolve with it. “Oh, Edgar. They’re gone. They’re both gone.”

He got up and folded his plump little wife into his arms, patting her on the back while she cried. Tears formed in his own eyes, and he gave Fletcher and Sam an apologetic glance. “They’re like sons to us. This is terrible. Just terrible. What happened?”

Fletcher sat on the small sofa. “We’re not sure, sir.” He gestured toward the binoculars, which Sam noticed sat on a book by the Audubon Society. “I notice you’re a bird watcher. Did you happen to see anything or anyone out of place over the past few days?”

“I did. There was a car, parked down the street, night before last. Black sedan, like the kind you see in the motorcades. Government, without a doubt. Sat there for three hours, from dark until midnight, which is the reason it caught my eye. Those people come and go around here so often they’re as common as a sneeze. But the cars don’t linger. Drop-offs and pickups, that’s all. No surveillance. And that’s what this was.”

“License plate?”

He shook his head. “It was facing us. I should have gone out to check on it or called the police. Were they staking out the joint?”

“I don’t know, sir. Has anything else caught your attention in the past few days?”

Edgar urged Eloise toward the chair next to him. Sam saw they were just close enough for the occupants to hold hands while they sat, which they proceeded to do. It brought a lump to her throat. She knew how Alzheimer’s worked. Forgetfulness was only one part of it. It was the isolation it caused in the mind of the sufferer that was the cruelest aspect.

He shook his head. “I was in Vietnam, you know. And Korea. Saw plenty I couldn’t understand, plenty I’d like to forget. Sometimes I just turn it all off so I don’t have to think about it. Other times, when my mind is still with me, I think I’d like to go back there. Talk to the families, see what happened to them. Know what I mean?” He grew silent. Tervis came to his daddy’s side, whining gently, pushing his head under the gnarled old hand.

Sam glanced at Fletcher. The initial shock of their unfamiliar faces had been enough to startle Edgar Poe to the present, but Sam saw the sharp blue eyes were beginning to lose their focus. Eloise saw it, too, handed him the brandy glass.

“Drink, sweetheart.” She gestured for Fletcher to talk quickly.

“Sir, your wife tells me you know Robin Souleyret, the sister of your next-door neighbor, the woman who owns the house, not the renters.”