Murder, She Wrote: The Ghost and Mrs. Fletcher

by Jessica Fletcher Donald Bain

  I’ve always found that the best way to make your way around someplace where you don’t belong is to look as if you do. As a consequence, I walked swiftly down the hall, keeping my eyes in front of me and nodding with a smile at anyone I passed.

  Once inside the hospital proper, I went to the nearest elevator bay and pressed the down button. The cafeteria was on the ground floor and was used by both staff and visitors, although those wearing a staff badge paid lower prices for the food. What I wasn’t certain of was how long Theresa’s break would last, and whether it would be over before I found her.

  The elevator came, and I stepped into it in front of a group of white-coated staff. When the doors opened on the ground floor, I exited and pretended to read the directory on the wall to allow them to get ahead of me. They followed the arrow indicating the location of the cafeteria, and I followed closely, hoping anyone in authority would think I was part of their group.

  At the entrance to the cafeteria, my luck ran out. A hand grabbed my elbow.

  “Madam, where’s your visitor’s pass?” The tall guard in a blue uniform looked at me sternly.

  “Oh, my goodness, isn’t it here?” I said innocently, patting my shoulder and looking around as if my pass might have fallen off. “Wait! Let me see if I stuck it in my bag.” I made a big show of digging through my shoulder bag, checking both the inside and outside pockets. “I must have left it in his room,” I said. “I just came down to get him a cup of tea.”

  “They have tea on the floors. Why would you need to come to the cafeteria for tea?”

  “And a slice of chocolate cake. They don’t have cake on his floor. And he has such a sweet tooth. The doctor said it was all right if I brought him up a slice of cake. Just this time. He promised he wouldn’t ask again.” I flapped my hands in distress. “He hasn’t had any appetite at all, but he said he would try some cake.”

  “All right. Calm down, lady. I’ll let you get your husband some cake. But make sure you find that visitor’s pass and wear it so I can see it.”

  “Thank you so much, Officer.”

  “I’m not an officer. Go on inside. Make it fast.”

  I stepped into the cafeteria and took a tray from the pile inside the door. I slid it along the metal counter of the hot foods buffet, walking behind a doctor in blue scrubs. I tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, Doctor, but would you happen to know an aide named Theresa? She works in the new rehabilitation unit.”

  He shook his head. “Sorry. I’m in the OR today. Don’t know any of the rehab staff.”

  Two nurses debated items from the dessert section. “That custard looks good,” one said.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “Do any of you know a rehab aide named Theresa? She would be on her break now.”

  “Sorry, no,” they answered.

  I glanced behind me to see the security guard leaning through the door, his eyes scanning the cafeteria. I picked up a plate with a big piece of vanilla cake with chocolate frosting, grabbed a cup of water and tea bag from the coffee and tea station, and got in line to pay.

  “Do you happen to know a nurse’s aide named Theresa? She works in the new rehabilitation unit,” I asked the cashier.

  “Honey, I don’t know where any of these people work. I only know the kitchen staff.”

  “Oh.”

  “Listen,” she said, ringing me up, “if you go around the corner, there’s always a loud table of ladies. If anyone knows, they will.”

  I gave her my best smile and a nice tip, and carried my tray into the dining area, hoping the security guard hadn’t spotted the direction I’d taken.

  Around the corner were two long tables at which a group of nurses in white slacks and multicolored tops chatted with one another. A loud whoop went up from one table, and the group dissolved in laughter. Smiling, I slid my tray onto the table next to the last nurse and sat down. She gave me a quick look, shrugged, and turned back to her companions.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “I hope you don’t mind my barging in. The cashier said you know everyone in the hospital, and I’m hoping you can help me find someone.”

  “I don’t know everyone,” the nurse next to me said, “but Margery probably does. Who are you looking for?”

  “An aide named Theresa who works in the new rehabilitation wing. She was working with Carolyn the last time I was here.”

  “Hey, Marge, do you know an aide named Theresa?”

  “You mean Theresa up in ICU?”

  “No, an aide. In the new rehab unit? She works with—” She turned to me. “Who’d you say she works with?”

  “Carolyn,” I replied. “Carolyn’s a nurse.”

  “Oh, yeah. I know Carolyn. The aide who works with Carolyn Helmer in rehab? Name’s Theresa?”

  “You mean her?” Marge said, pointing to a dark-haired woman two tables removed.

  “That her?” the nurse next to me asked.

  I nodded, hoping it was the Theresa I was looking for, thanked them, and asked, “Would anyone like my piece of cake?”

  “Give it here. It won’t last long at this table.”

  I left my cake and the cup of tea and walked to the table where Theresa sat reading a book. When I got closer, I saw that the book in her hands was one of mine.

  “I believe I gave that book to Cliff Cooper,” I said, taking the chair across the table from her. “Are you enjoying it?”

  She smiled. “He gave it to me.”

  “I’m delighted he gave it to someone else to read. Do you like it?”

  “So far.”

  “Oh, good. I wrote that book.”

  “You did?”

  I nodded. “Cliff and I were old friends. I often gave him copies of my books when they came out.”

  “He was a nice man. I was sorry when he died.”

  “Yes, I was, too. I wonder if you wouldn’t mind answering a few questions for me?”

  She closed the book and looked at her watch. “I really don’t have time to talk, Mrs.—”

  “Fletcher. J. B. Fletcher.” I pointed to the book.

  “Oh, right. Mrs. Fletcher. I’m afraid I have to get back from my break.”

  “I promise I won’t take up much of your time. Why don’t we talk while we walk back to your unit?”

  “Okay.”

  “I really appreciate your help. You see, Cliff’s grandson is coming home soon. He hadn’t seen him in some time, and I’d like to be able to tell him a little about how his grandfather spent his final days.”

  Theresa stood and tucked my book under her arm.

  I glanced toward the cafeteria entrance. “Is there another exit closer to the rehab unit?” I asked.

  “Actually, I usually use that one. Follow me.” She led me through the eating area to a door on the far side, which enabled me to avoid the security guard.

  “What would you like to know?” she asked when we reached the corridor and walked toward the rehabilitation unit.

  “I was just wondering if you happened to notice who came to visit Cliff while he was a patient here. I know he turned away most people.”

  She gave me an odd look but thought about my question. “When I was there, he only had three visitors that I saw, except for Dr. Hazlitt and other doctors. Do you know Dr. Hazlitt?”

  “Seth? Not only do I know him, but I’m due to meet him in a few minutes. I hate to be late and hope he’ll forgive me if I am.” I couldn’t quicken my pace because Theresa took her time strolling down the hall. I matched my steps to hers, wishing she would move a little faster. “I’m sorry,” I said. “You were saying Cliff had three visitors.”

  “No. I said I only knew about three visitors. I work one of the three shifts, evenings. I mean, if someone visited him in the morning, I wouldn’t know about that person.”

  “Of course,” I said, smiling. “I lik
e your precision. You’d make an excellent witness.”

  “A witness?”

  “Just thinking about trials I’ve attended. Judges and juries like witnesses to be precise. Please tell me a little about the three visitors you did notice. What were they like?”

  “There was an old lady.” She looked at me. “Older than you. Not that you’re an old lady.”

  “I’m happy to hear that,” I said.

  “I guess she was about eighty or so. Tall, short gray hair. She walked very fast. That’s what I noticed about her. I mean you don’t think about old people walking that way. The ones I see here can barely walk at all. This lady, she just marched around like she owned the place.”

  “I think I know who that may be,” I said, thinking her description fit Lettie Conrad. “Did she visit more than once?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Who else visited Cliff?”

  “There was a guy who drove a motorbike.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “He was carrying a helmet.”

  “Do you happen to recall the color of the helmet?”

  “Black, I think.”

  “What was the man like?”

  “Average height, I guess. I only saw him once, and Mr. Cooper didn’t like seeing him. I could tell right away. His cough became worse. I didn’t hear their conversation, but when I came in to take his vitals later—you know, his temperature and his pulse and his blood pressure—his blood pressure was way up. They must have had an argument, because Carolyn told me she had to ask him to leave.”

  “He came just once?”

  “That’s the only time I saw him.”

  “And who else?”

  “Well, there was a young woman.”

  “How young?”

  “My age, I’m guessing.”

  “And how old are you, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “Twenty-eight last September. I’m a Virgo. We tend to be organized and analytical. Lots of nurses are Virgos.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “What sign are you?”

  “Um, I’m a Pisces, but I don’t see . . .”

  “You must be very imaginative.”

  “Well, I am a writer.”

  “And intuitive. Pisces is a very creative sign.”

  “Thank you, but we were talking about the people who visited Cliff Cooper. You mentioned a young woman. Can you describe her?”

  “Not really.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, she was wearing sunglasses and a hat, kind of like the ones women wear who lose their hair from chemo. I don’t know if that was the case, but her head was completely covered, so I couldn’t tell you what color her hair was, if she had any.”

  “Then how did you know she was your age?”

  “From her bracelet—it was a friendship bracelet like the kind I wore in high school. That pattern was very popular ten years ago.”

  “Would you recognize her if you saw her again?”

  She shook her head. “Only if she was wearing the same things. I don’t pay attention to our patients’ visitors as a rule.”

  “You’ve done very well, it seems to me.”

  We took the elevator up one level and walked down the hall toward the rehabilitation wing.

  “One last question,” I said as we entered the unit. “Were you on duty the day Cliff Cooper died?”

  “Uh-huh. I work evenings, three to eleven. It’s the busiest time, but that makes the shift go faster. Carolyn was the one who discovered that he had died. She was late getting to his room, and he was gone when she finally got there.”

  “Why was she late?”

  “Someone had tripped over a medication cart and it fell over. It was pandemonium until we cleaned up all the pills that fell on the floor, and then we had to refill all the prescriptions. Security had to block off the hallway, and visitors were upset. It was a mess. By the time Carolyn got to his room with his meds, he was gone.”

  “I understand,” I said. “Do you recall if any of those visitors were here the day Cliff died?”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s when I saw the one wearing the hat.” She shrugged. “Can’t really say about the others.”

  “There you are,” Seth called out. He and our sheriff stood next to the nurses’ station. “I thought you hadn’t gotten here yet. You didn’t sign the book.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I don’t suppose there would be any fingerprints or other evidence left by his visitors,” I said to Seth and Mort after I’d told them about my conversation with Theresa.

  “No one understood that his room was the scene of a crime,” Seth said. “It was disinfected and readied for another patient within hours. That’s hospital policy. They wash down everything, blinds included.”

  “Well, let’s see the crime scene anyway,” Mort said. “Which room was he in?”

  Seth pointed to a closed door. “That one, but . . .”

  Mort opened the door and walked in before Seth was able to finish his sentence. Six startled faces looked up from a feast’s worth of food arrayed in dishes that had been spread around the new patient occupying Cliff’s former bed.

  “Sorry,” Mort said, tipping his hat to the family as he backed out of the room. He turned to Seth. “They’re practically running a restaurant in there.”

  “Beats hospital food,” Seth said. “I was about to tell you that there was another patient in Cliff’s room.”

  “Well, if we can’t see his room, what can we see here?” Mort said.

  “We can ask to take a look at the visitors’ book,” I said, “although I’m pretty sure Cliff’s assailant didn’t sign in.”

  “No record of any visitors that day,” Mort said. “I checked that first thing.”

  “But someone was in his room,” I said. “It seems to me that whoever tipped over the medication cart might have wanted to create a diversion to keep the staff occupied while the murder took place, or maybe after.”

  “But he had no visitors. Are you suggesting someone on staff wanted him dead?” Seth asked.

  “Not at all. I’m afraid that the lack of a visitor name doesn’t mean very much. The hospital’s security is far from efficient.”

  Mort looked at me sideways. “How do you know that, Mrs. F?”

  “I tested it today and easily skipped the security procedures when the guard wasn’t there. I walked around the hospital, and only one person demanded to see my pass, and even he let me go after some playacting on my part.”

  “I don’t suppose anyone expected that a patient would be in danger while in a hospital room being monitored by doctors, nurses, aides, physical therapists, dietary workers, and the cleaning staff,” Seth said.

  “Okay, so the killer got in undetected. Did the deed,” Mort said. “How did he get out without anyone seeing him?”

  Seth said, “He might just as easily have waltzed down the hallway and gone outside after the medications were cleaned up and the staff was still distracted.”

  “Or he—or she—could have escaped into the hospital itself and gone out any convenient door,” I said. “It’s unlikely a security guard would challenge someone leaving and ask to see their visitor’s pass.”

  Mort insisted I sign Security’s book and clip on my visitor’s badge this time. He stayed to talk with the guard while Seth and I continued down the hall.

  “I was hoping hospital security would be tightened in the wake of this incident,” I said.

  “I’m sure it will be when we’re able to discuss the situation openly,” Seth said. “I called the administration’s executive vice president to alert him to the need for stricter rules.”

  “Was he receptive?” I asked.

  “Had to dance around the reason for my call until I�
��m cleared to tell him the truth. Kind of like shutting the barn door after the horse has run out, but what can you do?”

  “Couldn’t you tell him the reason, in confidence of course?”

  “Our sheriff there said no, and I happen to agree. There’s no such thing as ‘in confidence’ in a hospital. News spreads faster here than in Mara’s Luncheonette. You didn’t say anything to the aide, did you?”

  “No! Of course not, and I don’t think she suspected why I was questioning her. I just told her I wanted to know about Cliff’s last days so I could tell his grandson. Speaking of Elliot,” I said when Mort had rejoined us, “does anyone have any idea when he’s due?”

  Seth shook his head. “For all I know, the boy’s motorcycle broke down and he’s hitchhiking here. Wouldn’t surprise me. That family had the strangest ways. Don’t know as I ever met his mother. Rumor was, his father, Jerry, kept her locked up because he was jealous of other men. Some said that’s why he hauled her off to the jungle, where he could keep her all to himself.”

  “Wasn’t Elliot born in Cabot Cove Hospital?” Mort asked.

  “Heck, no. Don’t even know if he was born in this country. Jerry and his wife showed up one day with their baby. Dropped him into Cliff’s lap and took off again.”

  “And never came back?”

  “If they did, I never saw them.”

  “You would think Cliff would look for them when they were gone such a long time,” I said.

  Seth shrugged. “I think by the time he learned that they were gone for good, their trail was cold. Frankly, I don’t think he was that upset. He wanted to keep that boy—spoiled him rotten, that is, until the day he decided not to.”

  “When he sent Elliot off to boarding school.”

  “So I understand.”

  “What a difficult childhood for Elliot, never knowing if his parents were going to come back, both yearning for it and dreading it in equal measure.”

  “That’s a sensitive analysis, Jessica, but we don’t know if those thoughts ever crossed his mind. He was a wild child. That’s what I remember.”