Poe’s Final Macabre Mystery Part IX

Welcome back to Myths & Mischief! This is your Lovable Lord of Lore, today’s mischievous myth is the ninth installment of the tale of the death of America’s master of the macabre, Edgar Allen Poe. 

This is the 9th part of a short story that gives a possible explanation of famous author Edgar Allen Poe’s demise.

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When Thompson and Wilson arrived at the Richmond train station, they started interviewing locals to find out if anyone saw anything.

They came across a man named William Wilson (no relation to the inspector). He worked at the train station.

“You saw Mr. Poe arrive by train?” asked Thompson.

“I didn’t recognize him at first, but it was him.”

“Why didn’t you recognize him?”

“I have seen him take a train, and return dozens of times, this time, his clothes were odd. He was always very well-dressed, like when he left on a train to Philadelphia a week or two before he returned.”

“Did he have any luggage with him?”

“He had the same trunk that he always had when he traveled.”

“Did you notice anything other than his clothes being different?”

“He seemed worried as he departed but relieved after looking around.”

“Did you speak with him?”

“No, he hurried off to the Swan Tavern after collecting his trunk.”

“Was there anything else that struck you as odd?”

“Nothing that comes to mind.”

“This may seem like an odd question, but by any chance was he wearing a hat?

“No, I don’t recall him ever wearing a hat, including both in his usual attire or this time.”

“Thank you for your time.”

The inspectors made their way to the Swan Tavern, questioning people along the way attempting to find more people who had spotted Poe after his return. They entered the Tavern once again, and seated themselves by the bar.

“Hello gentleman, welcome back to the Swan. My name is Baldazzar, what can I get you?”

“Just coffee thanks, and maybe a chance to ask you some questions.”

“What kind of questions?”

We are investigating the death of the writer Edgar Allen Poe. We were wondering if you have seen him in here.”

“He wasn’t a frequent visitor, but he was in here a few weeks ago.”

“Did you see who he was with?”

“It looked like he was celebrating with some friends. In their frivolity, I heard his friends toast his engagement.”

“Was Mr. Poe drinking?”

“He had a glass of champagne for a toast, which was bought by one of the people with him. From what I saw, he only had that one glass, but looked out of sorts shortly afterward.”

“He wasn’t drinking Amontillado?” asked Wilson in an attempt at humor.

“No.” Baldazzar answered abruptly, not amused.

“Can you describe what he was wearing?”

“I remember one of his friends commenting that his fiancé was already changing him because he was shabby looking.”

“Shabby?”

“He was wearing clothes that didn’t seem to fit him correctly.”

“Was he wearing a hat?”

“No, not that I saw.”

“Did he have luggage with him?”

“He did. Now that you mention it, he had a trunk with him. Someone brought it in here later on in the evening thinking that he would return for it. It’s in the back.”

“Can we see it?”

“Sure.”

Baldazzar led them into the back room where Poe’s trunk sat on the floor. Thompson opened the trunk. He found nice clothes that neatly folded and one outfit that looked like it was hastily thrown on top. There was also a notebook with ideas for stories and a small amount of money.

Thompson looked at Wilson, “There doesn’t seem to be anything telling in the trunk, but its location is interesting.”

“What does that mean, and do we have a chance to have that coffee?”

They went back to bar and as they sipped their coffee, they continued to ask questions of Baldazzar.

“Did you see Mr. Poe leave the tavern?”

He left alone, with his trunk. He seemed to be out of sorts, I assumed he was heading home.”

“Do you know the names of any of the men who were with him, or where we can find them?”

“Sorry, none of them were regulars.”

The inspectors finished their coffee, left a generous tip, and walked outside.

“If I were Poe, and out of sorts, where would I go other than home?”

Wilson shrugged his shoulders. Thompson looked around as Wilson followed suit.

“Do you think anyone in this area would have seen him as he exited the tavern?”

“Remember that guy Felt, he worked in the store across from a tavern and saw him beaten. Maybe we should go there.” said Wilson, pointing at the general store across the street.

“Good thinking.” Thompson responded as they meandered to the store.

Thompson and Wilson entered the general store where the saw several people looking for groceries in various aisles. The store owner saw the men enter, they did not look familiar and did not seem to be shopping.

“Welcome, you seem new to the area, my name is August Dupin, I am the owner of this establishment, what can I do for you today?”

We are investigating events that led to a death, and some of the events seemed to have occurred nearby. Did you see anything out of the ordinary or regarding a crime a couple of weeks ago?” asked Thompson.

“Maybe I was an investigator myself in a previous life, I am a very observant person, what type of events are you concerned with?”

“We were hoping you may have noticed anything unusual outside your shop on or before November 3rd.”

“The 3rd? That would depend on what you are investigating. We had a sale on canned fruit that was popular, but I don’t think that is what you were after, considering the sale is over.”

“Fair enough, we are investigating the on goings of Edgar Allen Poe, he was spotted at the Swan Tavern and left the bar, we are trying to figure out what happened to him after he left the bar.”

“Edgar Allen Poe, yes I saw him one night, it may have been on the 2nd or 3rd, but it wasn’t coming out of the bar.”

“Where did you see him?”

I was at the train station picking up an order for the store and on my way back I saw who I believed to be the famous writer walking slowly and deliberately home from what I could guess.”

“He never made it home…” Wilson interrupted.

“Please hear me out, I saw him walking when two of his acquaintances rushed him from behind.”

“Did you get a good look at the assailants?”

“Enough to recognize them. They aren’t from here but I have seen them with Mr. Poe from time to time, but usually in a bigger group of people.”

“Wait, start over, what did you see?” requested Thompson.

“I was walking back to the store with my packages when I saw Mr. Poe walking in the direction of his home. He appeared to be sick or had been drinking by his gait. Two men ran up from behind him, bonked him on the noggin with a truncheon. Then they carried him in the direction of the train station.”

“Who were the men?”

“I am assuming you don’t mean Mr. Poe, the other two men, I don’t know with certainty their names , but they traveled with Poe occasionally. I believe their names were James and Alexander, you should ask their sister.”

“Who is their sister?”

“Her name is Elmira Shelton.”

“Do you mean Elmira Royster Shelton, also known as Sarah Elmira Royster!?!” said Thompson caught off guard.

“They are one in the same, yes.”

“And they went to the train station?” clarified Thompson, still reeling that they had found a witness tying this assault with Poe’s fiancé.

“They went in that direction. I was unarmed and unable to assist him. In addition, it happened in a matter of moments, I couldn’t do anything without falling victim myself.”

“I understand, did you notice anything else?”

“Yes, I had returned to my store and begun to put away the new items when I saw the 2 men running away from the station, by my store and into town.”

“What about Mr. Poe?”

“He wasn’t with them?”

“No.”

“How much time had transpired between your sightings of these men?”

“I’m not sure, it must have been less than a half an hour, maybe 45 minutes, tops.”

“Anything else worth adding?”

“I had a bad feeling, so I had my kid finish restocking the shelves with the order I had procured from the train, and I went to see if I could assist Mr. Poe.”

“Did you find him?”

“No, there was no sign of him, so I returned to the store. I didn’t hear or see anything else about it until I heard my customers talking about his death.”

“Did you contact the police?”

“No, from what I understood, his death was from drinking, so I figured he found a bar after the confrontation and overindulged.”

“Thank you for your time, if you think of anything else, contact you local police and have them inform us.”

“I will do that.”

Thompson turned back to Wilson. “I guess we know what Ms. Royster was hiding from us, let’s get back to Philadelphia.”

“What if Poe did stop somewhere near the train station?” asked Wilson.

“Where?” inquired Thompson.

“I don’t know, but it would be prudent to go back to the bar and ask bout the brothers.”

They walked back across the street, entered the bar and approached Baldazzar.

“We have another question for you regarding the night we had discussed.” Thompson implored.

“Lay it on me.”

“By any chance did you see Alexander or James Royster on that night?”

“They were in the bar earlier that night, before Mr. Poe, why?”

“They may have had something to do with our investigation.”

“What can you tell us about their activities of that night?”

“They had been staying at the inn for a night or two. They came in from time to time to have a drink.”

“What about that night?”

They came in and ordered a bottle of whiskey, but they didn’t drink any of it here. They left with it, and I didn’t see them again. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen them since either.”

“Thanks again for your time.”

Thompson and Wilson left the bar and knocked on every establishment and house on the way to the train station trying to find more witnesses, but nobody they came across had seen or heard anything. Just beyond the train station, there was a small shack that was almost hidden from view. The knocked on the door with no response. Thompson tried the latch and the door opened. Inside the blackened room was a chair, and a funnel with some red bindings and an empty bottle of whiskey. Upon closer inspection they could see stains on the floor, some appeared to be spilled whiskey, but the rest seemed like dried blood. The men quickly gleamed what had happened in this shack.

“Wilson, what do you make of this black and red room?”

“It looks like Mr. Poe was tied to the chair, beaten, and forced to drink that bottle of whiskey, at least most of it. At least it wasn’t a pit with rats”

“Spot on,” said Thompson, “let’s get back to Philadelphia.”

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That’s it for today’s installment, this is your Lord of the Lore signing off.   

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