The Ghost and Mrs. Fletcher (17 page)

“What kind of relationship did they have, Cliff and Jerry?” Mort said, following up.

“You'll think this is funny, but Jerry was the one who got Cliff reading all those books.”

“Why is that funny?” I asked.

“Well, it isn't actually funny at all. Jerry called his father names, said he was uneducated and ignorant.”

“Jerry said that to Cliff?” Mort asked.

She nodded. “Isn't that awful, belittling the man who raised you, who paid for your college education? Yes, Jerry said that to him. He was an awful boy, even if I've defended him to Lettie. Once Jerry left for college, Cliff started reading everything he could get his hands on. He wanted to be able to have an ‘intelligent conversation' with his son, he said. I told him he was already an intelligent man, but he felt he had to have book knowledge and kept it up even after Jerry was gone.”

“Did Cliff have any friends other than you and your sister?” I asked.

“He knew just about everyone in town, but he mostly kept to himself. That's why I felt it was important to be close to him, so he would have someone in his life who cared for him.”

“Tell me about the day Cliff died,” Mort said. “Had you seen him that day?”

“He left specific orders that I was not to visit him. And that nasty nurse was only too happy to make sure I knew it. She's wanted to marry Cliff since Elliot was a baby. I was horrified when I learned that Carolyn, of all people, was his nurse on the evening shift. I knew he didn't like her—not romantically anyway—but a sick man is vulnerable. She was there to comfort him, make him feel wanted and loved. There was little I could do about it.”

“What about your sister?” Mort asked. “Did she visit him?”

“Lettie? Heavens, no. She was never close to him the way—the way I was.”

“Lettie told us a few minutes ago,” I said, “that she was against your marrying Cliff and having him move in here.”

Lucy gave her answer some thought before replying. “We fought over that, I'm afraid. I understood her objection, but her attitude left me with a sour taste in my mouth. I was trying to protect her.” She pressed her fingers to her lips. “Of course I never told her that. I don't want her to worry about me. She will, you know. We've been sisters since before we were born. All we have left in the world is each other.”

When Mort didn't raise another question, I did.

“You're sure that Lettie never visited Cliff in the hospital?”

“Don't you think she would have told me if she had?” She shrugged and gazed up at the ceiling. I was sure she was evading the question.

I didn't feel that I was in a position to challenge Lucy at that juncture, but the hospital aide's description of one of Cliff's visitors fit Lettie to a tee. The aide's description of the younger woman placed Beth at the hospital, and while she'd denied being there at first, I'd gotten her to admit that she had, in fact, visited Cliff. From what she'd said, she was there on the day that he was killed, and Beth had possibly placed Lettie there as well. I'd promised Beth that I wouldn't say anything to her great-aunts, and I would keep that promise. But I would inform Mort before he or one of his deputies questioned the young woman. Beth had lied about visiting Cliff, and I found it odd that she had seemed to be planning a visit to Sitka, Elliot's new home, even before she supposedly learned that he'd broken his engagement to another woman. Was she intending to woo him back? And was she being honest when she said Cliff had been sleeping at the hospital and that she had left immediately?

We talked for a few more minutes before Mort announced that we were leaving. Both sisters accompanied us to the door, and Lettie said that she hoped that Mort and his investigators would soon identify the person who'd killed Cliff Cooper.

“We'll do our best,” Mort assured her.

I wasn't about to leave without asking Lettie an obvious question, but couching it in such a way that it wasn't a direct confrontation.

“What was Cliff like when you visited him in the hospital, Lettie?”

“Visited him?” Lettie said haughtily. “I never visited Cliff.” She turned to Lucy. “Did I, Lucy?”

It was obvious from Lucy's expression that she wasn't comfortable being called upon to confirm or deny it. She simply said, “You already said you didn't,” and disappeared back into the house.

W
e'd had a run of lovely weather on coastal Maine for a few days, but on the Sunday morning of Cliff Cooper's funeral, the skies darkened and a steady rain began to fall. Seth called to ask if I planned to go. He'd routinely attended the funerals of his patients in years past but had begun cutting back recently. “At my age, if I go to the funeral of everyone I've ever seen professionally, I'll never get out of the cemetery.” When I told him that I intended to join the mourners, he decided to accompany me, which worked out not only because he provided company, but because he'd be driving to the church and the graveyard. I love my bicycle, but not in the rain.

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 why, 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.