The Ghost and Mrs. Fletcher (22 page)

“Oh, he looked just awful, Jessica. He was suffering so.”

“Did you bring him a present?”

“Oh, yes! How did you guess? I brought him my quilt.”

“You don't have to talk to her, Lucy,” Lettie said. “I already told them what they need to know.”

“Keep quiet,” Mort said, “or I'll have a deputy take you outside.”

“Lucy?”

“Yes, Jessica?”

“How did you know that Cliff was suffering?”

“He told me so. Said he was at death's door and just wanted to die.”

“And you wanted his suffering to end?”

“Oh, yes, no one should have to suffer at the end of their life. He said he was ready to go.”

“So, did you help him, the way you helped Amos?”

“Who the heck is Amos?” Mort asked.

“Our cat,” Lucy said to him. “He was so old and in pain. We had to put him down.”

“And that's what you did for Cliff?” I asked.

“He didn't mind. I used my quilt.” She patted the green quilt with the Christmas trees. “I'd made it especially for him.”

“Didn't he struggle against you?” Mort asked.

“Not very much. It was almost peaceful. He wanted to die, and I wanted to help. I kept telling him that over and over.” She took a cup for herself and poured in tea.

“Where was Lettie all this time?” I asked.

“She was in the corridor, watching out for Carolyn.” She giggled. “Carolyn never could tell us apart.” Then her expression turned serious and her tone confiding. “Lettie said she would say that
she
did it, but I don't think that's right. I did it, and I want to take the credit. That's only right, isn't it, Lettie? This way, if they put me in jail, I'll be taken care of the rest of my life and not be a burden to you.”

“Oh, Lucy.” Lettie was crying real tears now.

“But how did she know about the scrubs?” Mort asked me, cocking his head toward Lettie.

Elliot, who'd been listening from the stairs, came into the room. “I told them. You made such a fuss over the scrubs, Mrs. Fletcher, I thought they must have had something to do with my grandfather's death.”

I didn't add that Mort had inadvertently confirmed our suspicion that the scrubs had been the murder vehicle when he'd asked Lettie if she'd used the green uniform to kill Cliff. It didn't matter now. And I was sure that when the DNA test results came back on the material, there would only be mine, Mort's, and Elliot's easily discernible, and perhaps the DNA of whoever had worn them years ago.

Lucy looked up at Elliot. “I'm sorry you never came home to see your grandfather again, but I'm so happy you're here now. We've always loved you. You were part of our family, you and Cliff and Beth and Lettie and me.”

Elliot nodded, but his lips were pressed together and his eyes were shiny with tears. “Sheriff,” he said finally, “I have a favor to ask.”

“Go on.”

I thought he was going to ask something about Lucy or Lettie, but instead he held up his cell phone and said, “Beth left me a message. The news is all over town. I'd like to come with you and meet my father.”

T
he day of the book sale arrived and the sky was a brilliant blue. Early in the morning, workers from the local party company came to erect the tent. They set up tables on which the boxes of books would be displayed and unfolded the chairs for the volunteers assigned to each table. When the crew members learned that the event was a fund-raiser for Cabot Cove Library, they donated the cost of the equipment rental and promised to return with their families to browse the books.

Shortly after the tent went up, a large contingent from the Friends of Cabot Cove Library, led by Elsie Frickert, ferried the boxes from inside Cliff Cooper's house to the many tables outside and set up signs printed by Beth Conrad that credited downtown merchants who had sponsored tables.

The
Gazette
's photographer was on hand to shoot our preparations. Evelyn Phillips promised to stop in later to cover the event for the paper. She'd made peace with me after I'd given her a statement about Cliff's murder and finding Marina's body, giving credit to Mort's detective work and his arrest of the responsible parties.

Charlene Sassi arrived with her two assistant bakers and spread a bright yellow tablecloth over one of the tables, on which they placed platter after platter wrapped in pink cellophane.

“What do you have there?” I asked, coming over to admire the colorful display of baked goods.

“Wait until you see,” Charlene said, grinning at me. She removed the cellophane from one of the platters with a flourish. On it were stacks of cookies in the shape of books, their titles spelled out in pink icing.

I read off some of the names. “
Moby-Dick
by Herman Melville,
Pride and Prejudice
by Jane Austen,
The Godfather
by Mario Puzo.
Carrie
by Stephen King. Oh, my goodness! You have
The Corpse Danced at Midnight
.”

“By J. B. Fletcher,” Charlene added. “Of course, we couldn't ignore our homegrown famous author.”

“May I buy a cookie now?” I asked.

“Nope! You'll have to wait for the start of the book sale. But I have a few extra ‘books' put aside for you.”

“Charlene, you're wonderful.”

“
You're
wonderful for organizing this event. I can't wait to hear your friend's lecture this afternoon on ‘Collecting Books for Fun and Profit.' I have boxes of books in the basement that my parents left me. Might be a treasure there I don't know about.”

Since Mort had thoughtfully taken down the yellow crime tape, I had arranged with Arthur Bannister to give his lecture in Cliff's library. We had folding chairs set up, and the shelves were now free and thoroughly dusted. Elliot had given Eve permission to empty the upstairs rooms, and Herb, the junk man, promised to make a donation to the library after his tag sale of the usable items he carted away.

“It's not perfect,” Eve said after touring the house that morning, “but I think my buyers will be able to see the potential. I have an appointment today. Cross your fingers for me, Jessica.”

“I will.”

“Elliot and Beth want a quick sale, but I warned them it might be hard, considering the history of the house. Most people don't want to live where a murder took place, even though Aggie swore that her sageing got rid of all the negative energy.”

Our medium had finished filming her show earlier in the week. She was disappointed when Elliot decided not to participate, but with Eve's permission she had wandered the rooms of the Spencer Percy House, talking to the spirits she said were still in residence. I both looked forward to, and dreaded, what her finished video would look like.

Mort had put the Conrad twins under house arrest, at least until the court decided how to deal with them. Attorney Fred Kramer was planning a “not guilty due to diminished capacity” defense for the murder charge against Lucy, and he was hoping to gain a dismissal of the obstruction of justice charge both sisters faced. He'd already looked into a health-care facility willing to take both women after Lettie vowed she'd never leave Lucy's side.

Elliot met his father in jail, but the father and son found they had little to say to each other. Jerry, who had escaped prosecution for so many years, had signed a full confession once he realized that the evidence was stacked against him.

And Elliot announced that he and Beth were planning to return to Sitka together, something she said she had dreamed would happen. It represented the only truly happy ending in the whole murderous mess.

I looked around the library, remembering the thousands of books Cliff Cooper had read in his effort, perhaps, to obliterate the memories of the unhappiness in his life. I turned and spotted a book that had somehow been left behind. Perhaps it had fallen when an overloaded box had been carried outside, or perhaps it had lain there all along, unnoticed. I stooped down and picked up the slim paperback. A cool breeze brushed my cheek. I turned the book over to see the cover illustration. It showed a brilliant sunset under the title,
Vindication!

By Graham P. Hobart. His seventh and final book.

My entire body suddenly felt chilled, and I quickly walked from the library and out into the sunny day, where I recognized many friends and neighbors browsing the thousands of books Cliff Cooper had collected. Children in their colorful costumes—little witches, ghosts, and goblins—were lining up for the Halloween Parade. Our event was going to be a big success.

I turned to gaze up at the Spencer Percy House. It looked just as it had in the old photograph I'd found in Cabot Cove Library's Local History Room, complete with a woman's face in an upstairs window. I blinked in surprise, and she was gone. But I could have sworn that before she disappeared, she'd raised her hand to wave at me.

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