Welcome back to Myths & Mischief! This is your Lovable Lord of Lore, today’s mischievous myth is the sixth installment of the tale of the death of America’s master of the macabre, Edgar Allen Poe.
This is the 6th part of a short story that gives a possible explanation of famous author Edgar Allen Poe’s demise.
After a good night’s sleep in their own beds, Thompson and Wilson were waiting for Snoddgrass when he arrived to open his shop.
“Mr. Snoddgrass, if you please, we have some clarifying questions about our prior conversation, do you have a moment?”
Snoddgrass’s body language gave the inspectors a sign of submission as he sighed and waved them inside. The three men silently entered the magazine editor’s office.
“Before you get into any accusations, I would like to explain why my previous comments were misleading. I am aware of Poe’s reputation and I doubted a cause could be found for his bizarre demise. I thought it would be a boost for the temperance movement if there was a link between Mr. Poe’s death and alcohol. I was trying to do what was best for everyone including Edgar, who supported the temperance movement, but I am regretting doing that since there doesn’t seem to be a link. With that said, my description of his appearance was accurate, just not the part about him being intoxicated.”
“Why do you believe he appeared in such a manner?”
“I have known Poe for a long time, and I cannot figure why he was dressed that way, or what was happened to him.”
Obstruction of an investigation is still a crime, but under the circumstances we understand your motives were honorable. Don’t make that mistake again, trust in the police to do their jobs.”
“I will, and I am sorry for diverting your focus. Griswold is still printing disparaging remarks, but I don’t think that is for the movement. He seems to have his own agenda. Cooping also seems like a possibility, but what doesn’t make sense is what he was doing here. I am a friend, but he didn’t let me know he was coming, I only found out when I got that urgent message through a note before he was hospitalized.”
“If you think of anything else, please let us know.”
As they left, Wilson asked, “Why didn’t we arrest him for obstruction?”
“He was a friend of Poe, and was trying to make use of his otherwise senseless death. There was nothing malicious there.”
“What’s next?”
“Griswold.”
They found Griswold in his office, working on crafting a new collection of stories.
Griswold looked up, startled. “Oh, afternoon gentlemen, I didn’t expect to see you.”
“Sorry for stopping by unannounced, but we had some followup questions for you.”
“I see, what about?”
“You and Mr. Poe didn’t get along, and now you have control over his works and his estate. You managed to finagle your way into the role by tricking his aunt, and you have proceeded to smear his name for your own benefit. That is what we call in the police department… a motive. So, let’s try this again, were you involved in the murder of Mr. Poe?”
“That’s outrageous. Look, I may have had a grudge with him, but his aunt signed the paperwork for me to govern his affairs, I believed that I was doing her a service. As for his death, I learned about it after the fact.”
“If that is the case, why go to such lengths to smear the reputation of a dead man?” barked Wilson.
“That is not what happened, I simply voiced my opinion of his shortcomings. Poe and I did not see eye to eye, and he was very disrespectful to me and other writers. A fair assumption would be that he was delusional since these very same writers are highly praised in the literary community. What would cause his delusions, well, he had a history of drug and alcohol abuse and if you have read any of his work, you can attest he was a disturbed individual with a demented mind.”
“Or, he was a talented and creative writer that rose to popularity despite your attempts to knock him down,” Wilson shot back angrily.
“Inspector Wilson, Carl, we are all entitled to our opinions, but let’s not lose our heads. You may not approve of his decisions, but regardless of what you think about him, there is nothing connecting him to the murder other than his motive.”
“Sorry sir, sorry Mr. Griswold, I got a bit worked up. Capitalizing on the death of artist is a tough pill to swallow.” he said with a bit of bite lingering in his words.
“Mr. Griswold, do you have any factual information you can provide to us? For example, where were you on the 3rd, the day Poe was admitted into the hospital.” asked Thompson calmly.
“I was across town, meeting with a young author that wished for my endorsement and inclusion in my next collection of American authors.”
“Can we have his name and address so we can confirm your alibi?”
“Of course.” Griswold went to his planner and scribbled down the information on a loose piece of paper.”
“While I apologize for being a distraction in your investigation, I do stick by my impression of Mr. Poe and plan to continue writing about it.”
“If your alibi doesn’t check out, or if we have to return for any reason, we will need you to stay in town for the duration of the investigation.”
“My work is here, I have no plans to travel.”
“We can see ourselves out.”
“What a Rake!” snarled Wilson once they were outside.
“I agree, but you need to keep that to yourself during the questioning of a person of interest.”
“I understand, it is just hard sometimes when dealing with nincompoops.”
“We should stop by the hospital to see if the doctor has come up with any new information.”
That’s it for today’s installment, this is your Lord of the Lore signing off.
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