“Exactly. He had a good appetite, enough that he complained about the hospital food the day before he died. It just didn’t add up.”
“So what does that mean? What was his cause of death?”
“He died of asphyxiation. He died of no oxygen. He couldn’t breathe.”
“Isn’t that respiratory failure? Did his lungs fill up with fluid?”
“I suppose you can call it that in a generic sense. But no! His airway was completely closed off.”
“How?”
“Possibly with a pillow.”
“Good heavens, Seth! Are you saying that someone killed Cliff Cooper?”
“That’s what it looks like to me.”
“Are you certain?”
“There were hemorrhages in his eyes that could have been the result of the coughing. I’ll give you that. But there was a cut inside his lip, made by his own teeth. And we detected a little bruising around his nose and mouth. That could only happen if someone pressed something over his face and maybe pinched his nostrils closed.”
“When I was there, he used a pillow to muffle his own cough. Couldn’t he have made those bruises himself?”
“That’s what I wondered, too. But we found fibers in his nose, mouth, and in his trachea.”
“From the pillow?”
“No. We looked at them under the microscope, and the fibers were green. The hospital doesn’t have green pillowcases. I checked.”
“So it’s homicide,” I said. “Have you notified the sheriff?”
“Ayuh. Called him before I called you. He said it was okay to share the results with you, but the four of us—you, me, the sheriff, and the medical examiner—have to keep this information under wraps until Mort can contact Cliff’s next of kin.”
“That would be his grandson, Elliot.”
“And that young man is somewhere between Anchorage, Alaska, and Cabot Cove, Maine, but no one knows exactly where.”
“That gives Mort some time to look into Cliff’s death before Elliot gets here and the news becomes public knowledge.”
“I thought you might see it that way. He said he trusted you to keep the information confidential until his office was ready to make the announcement.”
“You know I will.”
“That’s what I told him. He’s coming to the hospital tomorrow afternoon to view the body.”
“Do you mind if I tag along?”
“I don’t. That’s why I mentioned it. Can’t speak for the sheriff.”
“I’ll call and ask to accompany you. What time will you be there?”
“Around four, if I can finish up my office hours on time. I’ll meet you in the waiting room of the rehab wing.”
“Oh, Seth. I still can’t believe it. Who would want to kill Cliff Cooper? He was such a nice man. I can’t imagine he had any enemies.”
“Well, he had one—the person who smothered him to death.”
Chapter Eleven
Eve picked up a square pillow and draped a length of turquoise and orange patterned material across it. “What do you think about this for the living room sofa, Jessica?”
“I don’t know if I’m the right person to give you decorating tips, Eve. You know more about this than I do.” We were standing in front of a bin of pillows in the home furnishings section of Charles Department Store.
“It’s not really decorating. That would require more time and money than I have for this project. We’re staging, adding just a few right touches to make it more interesting. The living room furniture is so dark. This would bring in nice contrasting colors against the burgundy velvet sofa. Don’t you think?”
“If you’re asking my opinion, I think it looks more Miami Beach than Cabot Cove,” I said. “Sorry.”
“Quel dommage,” she said, folding the fabric and tucking it under her arm. “What about that one?” She pointed to a round pillow covered in pleated white silk with tiny red flowers on it.
“Eve, I didn’t meet you here to talk about pillows.”
“You wanted to know about Tony Tonelero.”
“Yes. Where did you meet him? What do you know about him? Did he give you the names of other people he’s worked for?”
“Honestly, Jessica. Meeting him was an absolute blessing. It was right after Evelyn ran that article in the Gazette about the house being haunted and my repair people refusing to work there. It was an incredible stroke of luck. He came to me after those other people walked out. He was like a knight in shining armor riding to my rescue. And he’s not bad on the eyes, is he? I’ve always been attracted to a man with a mustache.”
“A bushy mustache is not a recommendation for a handyman. How do you know he can do the work? Did he give you any references? Show you photographs of work he’s done before? Where is he from anyway?”
“You think his mustache is bushy? I kind of thought he looked like that actor Tom Selleck.”
“Looking like a television star is not a guarantee he can fix what needs to be fixed. Did you pay him in advance? Did you say he could stay on the premises?”
“Well, he said he needed money to buy the wood for fixing the window sashes and paint for the trim. And there was no point in his traveling down the coast and back every day. He said he’d be fine in the barn. He said there’s a storage room he can use.”
“And how will he transport that wood to the house? He told me he had to wait for the rain to stop before he could get to the hardware store on his motorcycle.”
“He doesn’t have a truck?”
“Did you see one?” I asked.
“Then I assume he’ll have the material he needs delivered.”
“How much money did you give him? Don’t answer that. It’s none of my business. I just don’t want you to get taken in by a handsome face. Cliff left valuable tools in his workshop. You don’t want this person selling them off when you’re not looking.”
“Oh, dear, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I’m not saying Tony is a thief, just that you need to know a little more about him before you give him the keys to Cliff’s house.”
“It would be awkward to ask for them back at this point, don’t you think?”
“No doubt. But I’d like us to protect Elliot’s assets as much as possible. I’m concerned so many people have access to that house, myself included. How many sets of keys did you have made?”
“Me? Only four or five. The Conrad twins already had a set of Cliff’s keys. He gave them to Lucy and Lettie.”
“And what did you do with the sets of keys that you had made?”
She began counting on her fingers. “I have one. You have one. I gave one to Tony.” She winced at me. “He couldn’t very well fix the windows without going inside, now could he?”
“I hope that’s all he’s doing.”
“The painters and the roofers never had keys. I let them in.”
“That’s good.”
“I got back the set I gave to the cleaning service.”
“Okay.”
“But I gave them to Aggie, only temporarily of course.”
“Aggie! For heaven’s sake, Eve, why would you trust her with a set of keys to Cliff’s house? She’s a stranger. She has no business being there.”
“She said she needs a location to shoot her Internet show. She’s thinks it won’t take more than a day or two, Jessica.”
“And if it does?”
“We made a deal. She even paid me a location fee. Well, she said she wouldn’t charge me for the sageing. She’s going to come back and finish the job and make sure all—now, what did she call them?—all ‘nefarious spirits’ are rousted. Then we can sell the house guaranteed ghost-free.”
“But, Eve, the house isn’t yours to rent out. Did you check with the lawyer?”
“Not exactly. But if you think
I should, I will. I’m only trying to get this real estate nightmare off the ground, Jessica. You don’t know how difficult it is to sell an old house needing so much work.”
“You could ask less for the house and tell prospective buyers that they’ll need to do most of the repairs themselves.”
“You’re the one who talked about protecting Elliot’s assets, Jessica. Lowering the price might save me some headaches, but it will net him a lot less in the end.”
And a lot less for you in commission, I thought. Instead I asked, “What happens when Elliot comes home and so many people have the keys to his house?”
“I can get them back, of course. But if I do, how will you finish packing up the books? And how will Tony do the repairs?”
“And how will Aggie do her show?” I asked.
“Oh, I know you don’t cotton to her, Jessica, but we haven’t had any trouble with a ghost since she came.”
“And you didn’t have trouble with a ghost before she arrived.”
Eve pouted. “You don’t know that. All kinds of strange things were going on there.”
“I think you were the victim of a lot of overactive imaginations on the part of the cleaning and repair people,” I said. “And Evelyn Phillips didn’t help your cause with that fanciful article in the Gazette.”
“Or your cause either,” Eve added, “since it kept away volunteers for the book sale.”
“Perhaps. But we’re still responsible for protecting Elliot’s inheritance. I don’t see how allowing Aggie to film her show in the house is helpful to Elliot.”
“Peut-être. But this way we’re double-insured in case you’re wrong and there is a ghost in the house.”
A saleswoman approached us. “Hello, ladies. Do you need assistance with these pillows?”
“Not really,” Eve said. “Oh, wait! We could use your opinion on something.”
“Certainly. I’m happy to help.”
“What do you think of this fabric?” Eve spread the turquoise and orange patterned cloth over the square pillow again and cocked her head.
The woman looked from Eve to me and back at the fabric. “Well,” she said, trying to be diplomatic, “it’s bright and colorful, isn’t it? It reminds me a bit of those decorator houses they show on the home channel on TV.”
Eve raised her eyebrows at me and smiled.
“You know the ones I mean,” the salesclerk continued, “the beach houses in Miami, Florida.”
Eve’s face fell.
“I have another appointment,” I said, looking at my watch. “Eve, please ask Tony for some references. It’s not too late to do that. And I’d call Fred Kramer, if I were you, just to be on the safe side.”
“I’ll get to it as soon as I can, Jessica.” She turned to the saleslady, plucking a pillow from the pile in the bin. “How do you think this would look against a burgundy sofa?”
Chapter Twelve
Cabot Cove Hospital had recently gone through a series of expansions to better reflect its growing status as more of a regional hospital, serving a wider range of patients than only those from our community. There was a time when I knew almost everyone who worked there, and they knew me. But with a series of wings built on, and an influx of additional medical staff, that was no longer the case. And, of course, security had been beefed up considerably.
Seth’s view of the expansion was two-sided. On the one hand, he appreciated the increasingly cutting-edge technology that accompanied the growth, but he also confided to me many times how he missed the small-town feel of the facility. But no matter how large the hospital became, Seth was still considered one of its best diagnosticians, the physician to consult on the most difficult cases.
In the afternoon, Seth was meeting Mort Metzger at the hospital where Cliff Cooper’s body was being held in the morgue, and I’d invited myself along. I wasn’t certain whether Mort wanted me there, but since he hadn’t voiced an objection when I’d asked to come, I proceeded to make arrangements. I’d called a cab to pick me up and drive me out to the campus where the hospital and other medical buildings were located. As was my usual practice, I left myself plenty of time to get there. As it turned out, I was glad that I had. There was a lot of traffic leading out of town, and at one point cars were stopped altogether. I could see the buildings a half mile ahead, but only one lane of the two-lane road was usable.
“Sorry for the delay, Mrs. Fletcher. Looks like we got a work crew inspectin’ the road bed,” my driver, Dimitri, informed me. “They’re fixin’ all the breaches in the blacktop to get ahead of the job before the winter weather starts to come in. Want me to turn around and try another route?”
I looked at my watch. “That’s not necessary, Dimitri. I have plenty of time before my appointment. I’m sure they’ll let us pass soon.”
Up ahead, officers waved through northbound traffic, while those of us in the southbound lane waited our turn, all except a helmeted man on a motorcycle—at least I assumed it was a man—who threaded in and out of the stopped cars, sometimes riding along the shoulder, gunning his engine as he passed the stranded motorists to warn them of his presence.
“Don’t you hate guys like that?” my driver said. “No one else’s time is as important as theirs.”
“He’d better hope no one swings open a car door and steps out to get a better view of what’s ahead,” I said.
“That’d knock him off his perch, that’s for sure,” Dimitri said, chuckling, “He’d probably get to the hospital a lot faster that way, only he’d ride in the back of an ambulance instead of on his fancy wheels.”
Luckily for the motorcyclist, the drivers stayed in their seats, although several rolled down their windows to express their disapproval of the selfish individual who put his own needs ahead of others on the road.
Eventually there were no more oncoming cars, and our lane began to move, inching forward at first, and then going slightly faster as flagmen waved us around the tie-up and back into our proper lane. A little cheer went up from the driver’s seat, and I saw that one of Mort’s deputies had pulled over the motorcyclist and gone back to directing traffic, making the scofflaw wait to get his ticket until all of the south-bounders had passed.
“I gotta remember to give Deputy Chip a pat on the back next time I see him,” Dimitri said, grinning as we sailed on down the road. He was still smiling as we pulled into the circular driveway, then drove past the front entrance of the hospital and around to the new rehabilitation wing.
“Sometimes it’s the little victories that make it a good day,” I said.
“You said it! Will you need me to pick you up later, Mrs. Fletcher?”
“No, thank you, Dimitri. I think I’ll be able to catch a ride back with Dr. Hazlitt.”
The rehabilitation wing where Cliff had been a patient had a separate parking lot and public entrance in addition to the connection from inside the hospital. I pressed the automatic door button, and the heavy glass doors slid open. A stream of warm air poured down from above, serving as a curtain to keep the weather outdoors from chilling the vestibule. I walked through another set of doors. To my right, there was a waiting room where Seth had said he’d meet me—although our appointment was not for another half hour—and a glass enclosure where the admitting staff worked.
Every time I’d come to visit Cliff, I’d abided by the rules, stopping at the security desk, signing the guest book, and receiving a visitor’s pass. I thought of the motorcyclist who’d declined to follow the rules and who was now about to pay a fine for his self-centered behavior.
But what about the person who had come to the hospital with the intention of taking Cliff’s life? Would that person have signed in as required? Unlikely. Chances were that he or she would have found a way inside without alerting anyone to their presence.
How easy would it be to enter the hospital without the required visitor’s pass?
And without one, would a person be able to get around without someone in authority asking to see it? If I could make it into the hospital unchallenged, how long would it be before someone questioned my reason for being there? Or could I sneak in, explore the territory, and escape undetected, as the killer apparently had?
Because there was time before I was to meet Seth and Mort, I decided to put it to the test. Since no one was sitting at the security desk, I waited until the staff in the glass enclosure was occupied and not looking my way, and used the opportunity to walk down the hall without stopping for a pass. Had anyone questioned me, I would have told them truthfully that I was looking for a nurse on the afternoon shift named Carolyn, or an aide called Theresa. Those were the names written on the whiteboard hanging in Cliff’s room when I’d visited him.
I hadn’t met Theresa, but I assumed that the woman who’d threatened to chase me out of Cliff’s room should he become upset was his nurse, Carolyn.
I didn’t see her at the nurses’ station, but she could have been in a patient’s room. The department secretary, the only staff member in street clothes, was typing on her computer when I approached. A badge on her shoulder identified her as Ursula.
“Good afternoon, Ursula,” I said when she looked up momentarily from her work. “Is Carolyn here today?”
“She has Tuesdays off,” she said, her fingers resuming a rat-a-tat on the keyboard.
“What about Theresa?” I asked. “The aide?”
She glanced up at the clock on the wall. “She’s here, but she took an early break.”
“Oh, good. Do you know where she takes her break?”
She shrugged. “Where everyone does, I assume, the cafeteria. Unless she’s a smoker. If you didn’t see her outside on the far end of the parking lot, she’s probably in the cafeteria.”
I thanked Ursula and walked down the hall toward the connection to the hospital. Although I’d recognize Carolyn if I saw her again, I had no idea what Theresa looked like. Asking the department secretary would likely have raised alarm bells, and she might have demanded to know why I wanted to see her and perhaps checked for my visitor’s pass. But I hadn’t asked, and she hadn’t noticed my lack of credentials. So far so good.
Murder, She Wrote: The Ghost and Mrs. Fletcher Page 9
