Murder, She Wrote: The Ghost and Mrs. Fletcher

by Jessica Fletcher Donald Bain

  Cliff hadn’t been a member of any organized religion, so the attorney for the estate, Fred Kramer, had recommended to Elliot that he arrange for a simple observance following the regular service in the local Unitarian church. Burial would be in a small nondenominational cemetery in the northeast corner of town, in the plot next to his wife, Nanette, Jerry Cooper’s mother. It took some searching, but the attorney had come up with a copy of the deed to the plot that Cliff and Nanette Cooper had purchased many years ago. Thankfully, they’d been thinking ahead, something far too few people do.

  “Do you think the weather will keep people away?” I asked Seth as we drove to the church.

  “A little rain shouldn’t determine whether people celebrate the life of a friend. If they’re afraid to get a little wet, then they weren’t friends in the first place.”

  As we pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the church, I was pleased to see that a number of cars had preceded us. We popped open our umbrellas and joined the line of other mourners heading for the entrance. Once inside, we deposited our umbrellas in stands and entered the worship area. I spotted the Conrad sisters sitting in a front pew. Next to them were Elliot Cooper and Beth Conrad. Seth and I joined Mort and Maureen Metzger on the opposite side of the aisle. Mort had exchanged his sheriff’s uniform for a blue suit and tie.

  “Surprised to see you here,” Seth said to Mort in a whisper loud enough for me to hear. “Did you know the deceased?”

  “Met him once or twice,” Mort whispered back. “Actually, I just figured I might pick up on something to help the investigation.”

  “Can’t imagine what,” Seth said.

  “You never know,” Mort retorted.

  “If you say so,” said Seth, sitting back as Reverend Lucinda Yates, a young minister who’d only recently been assigned to the Cabot Cove church, stepped behind the podium and welcomed everyone.

  “As sad as death is,” she said, “we gather to celebrate the life of a fine man, Clifton Cooper, a longtime member of this community, whose skills as a carpenter and craftsman made wonderful contributions to the homes and lives of many here. While he was building a life for himself and his family, he also built some of the best bookcases in Cabot Cove.”

  She waited until the murmurs of recognition subsided before introducing Beth Conrad, who read a poem, Longfellow’s “A Psalm of Life,” from a book she’d brought with her. I loved the lines:

  Lives of great men all remind us

  We can make our lives sublime,

  And, departing, leave behind us

  Footprints on the sands of time

  Then the minister launched into an abbreviated recap of Cliff’s life. It was a straightforward presentation until she reached the point when Cliff had taken over the raising of his grandson, Elliot. She talked of the daunting challenge he’d assumed in raising a small child alone, the financial and emotional strain it put on him, and how he’d risen to the challenge. She looked to where Elliot sat with Beth and said, “Elliot Cooper has some words to say about his loving grandfather.” There was a rustle of movement as people sat up to get a better view.

  Wearing a gray sport coat and red tie, which I assumed he’d borrowed for the occasion, a clean-shaven Elliot strode confidently to the podium, carrying sheets of paper on which he’d written the notes for the eulogy. He cleared his throat and smiled at those assembled.

  “I haven’t seen many of you for a long time, so I want to take this time to thank you for coming to celebrate the life of my grandfather, Clifton Cooper,” he said. “He would have been tickled to see so many familiar faces here. He was a modest man, not one accustomed to a lot of attention, except, so I’ve been told, when my grandmother, Nanette, died, and Grandpa Cliff became an eligible bachelor. He got quite a bit of attention then.” He paused to smile at the wave of laughter. “Even though I’ve moved away from Cabot Cove, I want you to know that I loved my grandfather very much, and I’ll always be grateful for the sacrifices he made for me for all those years. We were two generations apart and had our differences, as you can imagine. As I got older and smarter—or so I thought—we got into some heated arguments, but that was because I was a stupid teenager who didn’t know better. I’ll bet there are some people here who can attest to that.” Elliot smiled. “I see some nodding heads. I hope I’m a better man now, but when I was a youngster, I was really upset when Grandpa Cliff sent me off to boarding school. But do you know what? It was the best thing he ever did for me, and while I didn’t know it then, I know now just how difficult it was for him to make that decision.”

  His voice breaking at times, he spoke for another ten minutes, never referencing the manner in which his grandfather died nor speculating on why someone would want to kill him. Those who had come to the funeral expecting to be entertained by dramatic references to a murder—and I’m sorry to say there may have been a few with that purpose—went away disappointed. Those who came to mark the passing of a gentle, private man were rewarded with proof of Cliff’s most successful undertaking, the rearing of his grandson. There were even a few sounds of sniffling in the pews. Lucy Conrad held a handkerchief tightly in her fist, frequently raising it to her cheeks. Her sister sat next to her, staring into space, Lettie’s only reaction to Elliot’s words the occasional pursing of her lips.

  At the conclusion of the service, we left the church and headed to our cars for the procession to the cemetery. The casket carrying Cliff Cooper was placed in a hearse, and a limo containing only Elliot and the driver followed.

  Among those watching as the hearse pulled away was a woman I recognized. I excused myself to Seth and approached her.

  “You’re Carolyn, aren’t you?” I asked her. “You were Cliff Cooper’s nurse.”

  She stiffened. “That’s right. And you were one of the privileged few allowed to visit him. Theresa told me you’d tracked her down at the hospital.”

  “She’s a very bright young woman. I’ve been hoping to speak with you, too.”

  She scowled at me. “If you think I had anything to do with Cliff’s death, think again. I did everything to help him get better, including chasing away people who were upsetting him. Like you. If you didn’t like it, too bad.”

  “Cliff wanted me to be there, but I’m sure you were only trying to protect him. I didn’t take offense.”

  When I didn’t respond negatively to her rudeness, Carolyn seemed to relax a bit.

  “Look, I’ve already talked to the police. They said Cliff was murdered; I don’t believe it for a minute. That probably came from one of the Conrad twins, because I kept them away from Cliff—at his request, I might add.”

  “But you don’t know if they managed to see him when you weren’t on duty.”

  “There were strict orders on file. The guards had been alerted.”

  I didn’t tell her that I’d managed to elude the guards. Instead I said, “It was a lovely service today, wasn’t it?”

  She nodded but didn’t reply.

  “It must be gratifying to see what a fine young man Elliot Cooper is.”

  “Cliff was a good man, if stubborn. I don’t see any reason why Elliot wouldn’t have turned out well.”

  “Lettie Conrad said you were one of the nursing students who helped take care of Elliot when he was a baby.”

  “I’m sure she didn’t have anything good to say about me. She and her sister went after Cliff from the moment his son and daughter-in-law ran off, but they didn’t know anything about taking care of babies. They probably only wanted to add his property to theirs.”

  “But you did know about babies.”

  “I helped raise six brothers and sisters. I sure knew a lot more than they did.”

  “Lettie said you were interested in Cliff, too.”

  “I’ll bet she did. I would have been a good mother to Elliot, but Cliff wanted to raise the boy by himself. Heaven knows wh
y, but he did.”

  “So you left.”

  “I didn’t see any point in sticking around, pining after a child and a husband I couldn’t have. Does anyone think that’s a motive for murder?”

  “I can’t imagine they would.”

  Seth tapped me on the shoulder. “Excuse me, but if you want to go to the cemetery, Jessica, we have to leave now.”

  I thanked Carolyn for talking to me. She shrugged her shoulders and walked away without replying.

  A smaller group of us than had attended the funeral stood at the hilltop graveside, umbrellas raised, while Reverend Yates delivered some parting words. Elliot stood between Beth and Lucy Conrad, their faces grim, windblown raindrops mingling with tears on their cheeks. Lettie was not with them.

  Tim Purdy had been at the church and also came to the cemetery. He stood next to Eve Simpson, whose unhappy face, I thought, was more a reflection of having to stand in a rainstorm than any sad feelings she might have had for the late Cliff Cooper. Mort and Maureen Metzger stood with Seth and me.

  “Pick up anything of use in your investigation?” Seth asked our sheriff.

  “Maybe.”

  Maureen asked me, “Are you and Seth going back to the Conrad sisters’ house after this, Jessica? I baked a batch of my special raspberry swirl cookies for them.”

  “I’m sure we’ll stop in there—Elliot is living with them for the time being—but I doubt we’ll stay for very long. He must be exhausted, and I’m sure all this has put a strain on Lucy and Lettie as well.”

  As Maureen and I talked, and others began leaving the graveside, I happened to look across the cemetery and was sure I saw Eve Simpson’s handyman, Tony Tonelero, standing beneath a gnarled willow tree. He wore a yellow slicker and a tan rain hat.

  “Excuse me,” I said to Seth and Maureen, and started in his direction. What was he doing here? Hadn’t I heard Eve say she was going to hire another man to work on the Spencer Percy House? As if wanting to avoid me, Tony turned quickly and walked away, disappearing behind an ornate mausoleum erected by one of Cabot Cove’s notable families. By the time I caught up to where I’d last seen him, he was nowhere in sight. I couldn’t see anyone walking down the hill wearing a yellow slicker. Although I couldn’t be certain Tony had spotted me coming toward him, I was convinced that he’d kept his distance and made his exit to avoid speaking with anyone. But that was irrelevant. The real question on my mind was, why had he bothered on a soggy, rainy Sunday to come to the burial service of a man he never knew? I considered pursuing him but thought better of it. I didn’t want to leave Seth standing alone in the rain, nor did I want to slog through wet grass that needed mowing.

  “Where did you run off to?” Seth asked when I rejoined him and we headed for his car.

  “I saw the handyman that Eve Simpson hired to do repairs on Cliff Cooper’s house.”

  “So?”

  “So,” I said, “why was he at Cliff’s funeral?”

  “You’ll have to ask him.”

  “Which is what I’d intended to do if he hadn’t left so quickly.”

  Seth held the car door for me and came around to take the driver’s seat. “Maureen said the Conrad sisters are hosting a gathering on Elliot’s behalf,” I told him. “We should stop by to pay our respects.”

  “I don’t mind stopping there for a short visit, but we’ve been ‘paying our respects’ all morning, and I’d like to get in an hour or two in my office this afternoon. I still have to take care of the living.”

  “I promise we’ll only visit a short time. But if you need to leave and I’m not ready, you go. I’ll find a ride. I’m sure there will be lots of people available to drop me off at home.”

  It turned out that Lettie had skipped the graveside service to go home to prepare for guests after the funeral. When Seth and I arrived, there was an array of cookies, cakes, and pies as well as coffee and tea for those who came to pay a condolence call. Most funeral-goers had decided not to take them up on their hospitality, and I was happy that Seth and I were among those who did afford them that courtesy.

  “It was a lovely service,” Lucy said as I shared a cup of tea with her.

  “Yes, it was, Lucy. I think that Cliff would have been pleased.”

  “And Elliot, poor, dear Elliot, spoke so eloquently.”

  “Eloquently and emotionally.”

  “I like to think that Cliff was listening to every word.”

  “He would have been very proud of Elliot today,” I said. “Where is Elliot, by the way?”

  “I don’t know. He hasn’t returned from the funeral yet. Nor has Beth.”

  I looked out the window at the Spencer Percy House across the street. A light was on in one of the upstairs rooms.

  At that moment Eve Simpson arrived.

  “I hate these sloppy days,” she said, shedding her fashionable raincoat and shaking her head. “No matter how hard you work to look nice, the rain undoes everything you’ve accomplished.”

  “It’s good for the crops,” Seth muttered.

  “If you’re a farmer,” Eve said sharply. “I’m not.”

  “I think you look lovely,” Lucy said.

  “You’re a dear,” Eve replied, accepting a cup of tea from her.

  “How are things shaping up with the renovations?” I asked when Lucy had moved away to talk with the other guests.

  “Slow, frustratingly slow. That handyman I hired seems to take his own sweet time getting things done. He’s back on the job, thank goodness. I was getting ready to throw up my hands. Speaking of getting things done, Jessica, when will the rest of the books be packed up and moved out?”

  “The sale is taking place next Saturday,” I answered. “As you know, I haven’t had a lot of help sorting Cliff’s library. It’s a daunting task, but we’re almost there. I’m hoping to finish up tomorrow. What do you hear from our favorite medium, Arianna Olynski, also known as Agnes Pott?”

  “She’s a kook, Jessica.”

  I had to laugh at her directness.

  “She’s supposedly going to videotape an interview with Elliot Cooper, but she put it off until Evelyn Phillips can come and watch. Evelyn’s doing a front-page article about her. I just hope Aggie remembers that the whole purpose of her being here is to rid the house of ghosts, not talk about them haunting the place. I’ve had exactly one query from a prospective buyer, and I’m eager to move this property off the market.”

  “Maybe Aggie’s show will help sell it,” I offered.

  “Or scare everybody away,” was Seth’s analysis. “Haunted house indeed!”

  We stayed another twenty minutes before announcing that we were leaving.

  “It was very generous of you to invite Elliot to stay here and to host this reception for him,” I told Lettie.

  “Thank Lucy. It was her idea.”

  “I will,” I said. “Where is she?”

  “She went to lie down. Said she had a headache. I think it’s because she saw that nurse Carolyn at the funeral.”

  “Did you speak with her?”

  “Ayuh. She came right up to me and said, ‘Now, no one’s got him.’”

  “Oh, how awful. Did Lucy overhear her? Did you say anything back?”

  “I don’t have time for her. I just turned away.”

  Elliot and Beth walked in just as Seth and I were on our way out. We complimented Elliot on his eulogy and Beth on the poem she chose to read.

  “Did you notice it was from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow?” Elliot asked.

  “I did, as it happens. And I noticed that her book doesn’t have a hole in the middle of it.”

  Elliot laughed. “I think Grandpa Cliff would have loved the irony.”

  The rain had let up; it was now more of a mist that had settled over Cabot Cove. Seth and I walked toward his car.

  I
looked across the road at the Spencer Percy House.

  “Spare me a few more minutes?” I asked.

  “If you wish.”

  I took his arm, and we crossed the street to the house where Cliff Cooper had lived with his wife, Nanette, and after her death had raised their son, Jerry, by himself—and had also brought up his grandson, Elliot, the same way. The light I’d seen in an upstairs room was off now. We walked up the gravel driveway toward the small barnlike structure in the rear. As we approached it, I saw Tony Tonelero’s black motorcycle resting against the side of the building beneath an overhang that kept it dry. Raindrops on its surfaces glimmered, however; it had been used recently.

  “I’ll never understand people riding on those darn things,” Seth commented.

  “And they probably wonder why you feel that way,” I said.

  The door to the barn was only partially closed. I widened the gap and peered inside. “Tony?” I called out. There was no response. I pushed the door fully open, and we stepped through it. Although it hadn’t been home to animals for a century or more, the barn still maintained most of the original structure from when it was built, with a center aisle and bays on either side that had at one time been stalls. Although it lacked the familiar barnyard smell, there was the aroma of raw wood and sawdust, testimony to its use as a woodworking shop.

  “What are we doing?” Seth asked.

  “I thought maybe Eve’s handyman was here,” I said, folding my umbrella and leaning it against the wall. “I wanted to ask him why he’d attended Cliff Cooper’s funeral.”

  “A man has a right to attend a funeral, Jessica.”

  “But he never knew Cliff. Eve hired him after Cliff died.”

  “Maybe he’s someone who likes cemeteries and funerals, or maybe he needs something to do on a Sunday morning.”

  “On a very wet Sunday morning,” I said.

  I ventured past one of the stalls in which there were a table saw and other machines useful to a carpenter. Beyond it was an area that probably had been a tack room when the barn was first built. It seemed out of place to be in a barn now. It was set up like a makeshift bedroom. There were a cot made up for sleeping, a small night table with a lamp attached to a long extension cord, a portable radio, and a stack of a dozen books. A rod had been crudely attached to the wall, where clothing dangled from wire hangers. A black motorcyclist’s helmet sat atop a legal-size banker’s box on the floor in a corner.