“I’ll stack them up. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course,” I said. “But I never left these here.” I opened the flap of one of the boxes and peered inside. It contained a stack of woodworking magazines. Another was filled with medical volumes. “These were on the bookshelves in the basement,” I said. “The handyman must have packed them up.”
“Well, that was nice of him. Saved you some work.”
“Have you met him yet?”
“The handyman?” He shook his head. “Haven’t seen him around. What’s his name?”
“Tony Tonelero,” I said.
“Haven’t even met Miss Simpson,” he said, “but Mr. Kramer said he’d bring her by soon.”
“You know, or perhaps you don’t, there’s a rumor going around that the house is haunted.”
Elliot laughed. “When I was little, I used to think my mother came and read me bedtime stories.”
“What a lovely memory.”
“It was, for a while. Stupidly, I told Grandpa Cliff about the lady who visited me at night and who I thought she was. He said my mother was dead and I should forget about her.”
“That wasn’t very sensitive of him, was it?”
Elliot shook his head. “What can I say? He did the best he could for an old man stuck with raising a little kid. Must’ve been tough bringing up yet another rambunctious Cooper and this time without the help of Grandma Nanette. I don’t carry any grudges.” He was quiet for a moment. “But you know, she never came back after he said that.”
“Who’s that?”
“My mother, the ghost.”
We said good-bye and I left, aware that he was watching me from the doorway as I climbed onto my bike and pedaled down the driveway. My thoughts at that moment were that despite being abandoned as an infant by his parents, being brought up by his grandfather, and then being shipped off to a boarding school, he seemed like a very put-together young man.
I also decided that he should know more about his parents and their disappearance in the jungles of South America. And so should I. Perhaps that information would provide a clue as to who wanted to see Cliff dead. Surely there were people in Cabot Cove who’d been around long enough to know something of this mysterious couple whose son I’d just met. The town historian, Tim Purdy, had shared what he knew. But I was betting that Lucy and Lettie Conrad possessed a lot more information about Elliot’s parents than was common knowledge.
Chapter Fifteen
Beth Conrad answered the door when I rang the bell at her great-aunts’ home across the road from Cliff Cooper’s place.
Tim Purdy had speculated that the Conrad twins’ cottage might have been the gatehouse for the Spencer Percy House at one point. It had been built in the nineteenth century, but it was of a later vintage, probably sometime after the Civil War, possibly when Abner Nessier, the lumber baron, had occupied the larger building. The road between the two structures had been paved in the twentieth century when a developer bought the adjacent parcel on one side of the historic house, intending to put up several smaller houses for veterans returning home after World War II. He never got the financing, and the land remained vacant. The few houses on Cliff’s side of the street had a view of the ocean, although they had only part-time access to the water when the tide washed against the rocky shore many feet below the bluff. The houses on the same side of the street as the Conrads’ house lacked a clear view but had the benefit of less wind off the ocean, although not a lot less. I’d been buffeted by the currents of air the whole time I’d pedaled my bicycle down the peninsula to the Spencer Percy House.
“Hi, Mrs. Fletcher. We weren’t expecting you. Aunt Lettie and Aunt Lucy went into town this morning,” Beth said. “I’m not sure how long they’ll be. It could be quite some time.”
“I should have called before I disturbed you,” I said, sighing. “I’m thinking I may need to replace my bike seat with one that has a little more padding if I’m going to continue taking these long trips. Do you mind if I sit with you and rest a little before I ride back?”
She glanced behind her. “No. Of course not. Come in.”
I wondered if she knew that Elliot had arrived, but I hesitated to be the one to tell her.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important,” I said.
“Not at all.” She swung the door wide and invited me to enter. “How is the book sorting going? I’m sorry I haven’t had time to help you out again.”
“It’s going reasonably well,” I said, looking around the cozy living room. A Christmas tree quilt was folded on a chair. There was a crocheted afghan bunched up on one side of the chintz sofa, as if Beth had kicked it off to answer my ring. A pamphlet was open facedown on the cushion. I angled my head to see what it was she’d been reading, but Beth scooped it up, closed it, and slid it under a magazine on the coffee table.
“Please excuse the mess here.” She smoothed the afghan and laid it across the arm of the sofa.
“Nothing to excuse. I’m the one who barged in uninvited.” I sank down on the cushion and unbuttoned my jacket. I chuckled. “It feels good to be seated on something soft.”
“Would you like some tea or coffee?”
“No need to fuss for me. Come sit with me and tell me how everything is going.”
“It’s no fuss,” she said, hurrying toward the kitchen. “Aunt Lucy made cookies the other day. I’ll put some on a plate.” I heard her open and close a cupboard.
I leaned forward and pushed the magazine to the side. “Are your aunts well?” I called out. The cover of the brochure had a color photograph of snowcapped mountains beyond a village on the edge of a bay. Across the top in script was the banner Visiting Sitka. “I was expecting to see them at Cliff’s house the other day, but the weather was terrible. I certainly understand if they didn’t want to venture out in that rain.” I slid the magazine over the brochure again as Beth carried in the cookies.
“Actually, Aunt Lucy has a little cold.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
“It might be contagious, you know,” she said, looping a finger into her bracelet and twisting the string. “Are you sure you want to stay?”
“I’m not going to be here long. I’m surprised Lettie didn’t insist that Lucy remain at home.”
Beth placed the plate on top of the magazine and laid a folded napkin next to it. “Oh, she tried, but Aunt Lucy wanted to go. She gets restless if she stays in the house too long, and she needed to get out a little.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
“Aren’t you going to sit down?”
“Oh, sure.” She grabbed a sugar cookie off the plate and sat at the edge of a wing chair.
“I wanted to thank you again for the signs you made for the book sale,” I said, taking a cookie.
“Oh, no thanks are needed. It’s a worthwhile cause, and I’m happy to help.”
“I really stopped by to see Lettie and Lucy, but while I have you here, do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Me? Sure. I guess. What do you need to know?”
“I’m not sure how to ask this,” I said.
“‘Straight ahead’ is what Aunt Lettie always says.”
“And she’s right, so I’ll be direct. Cliff Cooper didn’t allow many people to visit him when he was in the hospital, but I understand that he did see you.”
“Oh, no, you’re wrong, Mrs. Fletcher. I never went to see Grandpa Cliff. Aunt Lucy told me not to.”
“That’s funny,” I said. “One of the nurse’s aides identified you.”
“How could she possibly . . . I mean, I wasn’t there.”
“You mean, how did she know it was you wearing a hat and big sunglasses?”
Beth curled her shoulders in, seeming to collapse in on herself.
I pointed to her string bracelet. “She said the
re was a woman wearing a friendship bracelet just like yours.”
Beth twisted her finger around the string again. “I shouldn’t still be wearing this. It doesn’t mean anything anymore.”
I thought that it still meant a great deal to her, but I didn’t contradict her statement.
She gave a big sigh. “Please don’t say anything, Mrs. Fletcher. I wasn’t supposed to go. I mean, I don’t think Grandpa Cliff even knew I was there. I thought if I could catch him when he was awake, I could talk to him about allowing Aunt Lucy to see him. She was so upset that he shut her out. Before he got sick, he was talking about their getting married.”
“I didn’t realize they were still considering marriage.”
“He wanted to move in here. Of course, Aunt Lettie wasn’t happy about that. She said if he wanted to marry Lucy, he could bring her to his own house. But you’ve seen what that place looks like. Aunt Lucy would never have lived in that mess.”
“So you’re saying Cliff Cooper didn’t know you’d come to see him?”
“I was in his room less than a minute. He was sleeping, and I was afraid to wake him. Then I had second thoughts about being there at all. When I left, I thought I saw Aunt Lettie coming in.”
“Was it Lettie?”
“It was just a fleeting glance. I can’t be sure. I got spooked and hid in the ladies’ room down the hall. I waited awhile and sneaked out when no one was looking. There was a big commotion over something that fell down. I didn’t think anyone saw me.”
We heard voices coming up the path, then a key in the lock of the front door and laughter.
Beth looked at the door in alarm. “Please don’t say anything, Mrs. Fletcher,” she said, her eyes pleading with me.
“You have my word,” I said. “For now.”
The door swung open, and Lettie and Lucy spilled into the house, their arms entwined with Elliot’s.
“Look who we found walking on the road,” Lettie called out.
“Doesn’t he look handsome?” Lucy said, giggling. She touched her hair as if she were a young girl preening for him.
“We went to the pharmacy as you requested, but it wasn’t open yet,” Lettie said.
I looked at Beth. The blood had drained from her face. It occurred to me that she might have been hoping to have a private reunion with Elliot. She must have heard him playing his loud music. The cottage was just across the road from his house, and he’d had the windows thrown open. Perhaps that was his signal to her that he was home.
“Hello, Beth. You’ve certainly grown up since the last time I saw you.”
“I wouldn’t have recognized you with a beard if Aunt Lucy hadn’t shown me your picture on Facebook.”
Elliot smoothed a hand over his scruffy beard. “I guess a beard’s not as popular in Cabot Cove as it is in Sitka. You think I should shave?”
“I? I don’t have any opinion on whether or not you should shave. What does your fiancée think about it?”
Elliot chuckled. “So you heard about her?”
Lucy suddenly noticed my presence. “Jessica! What are you doing here? I was so captivated by Elliot, I didn’t even see you sitting there.”
“I just stopped by for a moment,” I said, “and Beth was entertaining me.”
“Let me introduce you to our beautiful boy. This is Elliot”—she hesitated—“Cooper.”
“Hardly a boy, Aunt Lucy. And probably not very beautiful right now. But Mrs. Fletcher has beaten your time. I’ve already met her this morning. She came by to tell me how wonderful my music is.” He winked at me.
“We’re already old friends,” I said, stealing a glance at Beth, who looked ill.
“Are you feeling all right, Beth?” Lettie asked. “I didn’t think you really needed that medicine, but now I’m not so sure.”
“I’m—I’m just fine,” Beth said.
“Well, I could use a cup of tea,” I said. “I’ve been up since five o’clock.”
“What on earth got you up so early?” Lettie asked.
“If you make me some tea, I’ll tell you my tale of woe,” I said, herding the sisters ahead of me into their own kitchen.
I heard Elliot in the living room speaking to Beth: “Wow! You’re still wearing our friendship bracelet?”
“Let go of my arm, please.”
“Sorry.”
“What happened to yours?”
“When I first got to Alaska, I got work in a logging camp and the foreman made me get rid of it.”
“Oh? You had it that long?”
“He was afraid it would catch in the machinery and take off my hand.”
“How awful.”
“I hated to cut it off, but I still have what’s left of it. I carry it in my wallet.”
The front door closed behind the young couple as they went outside. I sat at the kitchen table with the twins. I’d been asked not to talk about Cliff’s death. But we could talk about the past. I was hoping, with Cliff gone, that they’d be willing to disclose some of the family skeletons kept closeted all these years.
Chapter Sixteen
“So Barnaby heard Elliot’s music and was sure someone had broken in,” I said, summing up the story of my early-morning telephone call and bicycle ride to the Spencer Percy House.
“I hope he doesn’t play alarm clock for you again,” Lettie said.
“I hope so, too.”
I’d promised Beth that I wouldn’t tell the sisters that she’d been to see Cliff at the hospital, and while I wanted to ask Lettie about her visit, I thought I’d wait for a time when I could speak with her privately.
“Beth must’ve known what it meant the second she heard the music,” Lettie said.
“They make a nice couple, don’t they?” Lucy said, an approving smile on her face. “We always wanted them to be together.” She filled my cup from the teapot on the table.
“Let’s not forget he’s engaged to someone else,” Lettie said. “He’s very charming like his grandfather, but I don’t want Beth to get hurt.” She sat ramrod straight in a chair, her hands folded on her lap and a stern expression on her face.
“It’s too bad that Elliot had to come all the way to Cabot Cove because of Cliff’s unfortunate death,” I said.
“Those things happen,” Lettie said matter-of-factly.
“I’m sorry that Cliff isn’t alive to see the fine young man that Elliot has become.” Lucy’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry.”
“Nothing to do about that. When it’s your time, it’s your time,” Lettie said.
“Just like Amos,” Lucy said, wiping her eyes.
“Who’s Amos?” I asked.
“Our cat,” Lucy replied. “He had arthritis and a terrible limp.”
“Jessica isn’t interested in our cat, Lucy.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“What happened to the cat?” I asked.
“We had to put him down. He was suffering. Animals shouldn’t suffer,” Lucy said.
“That was very kind of you both,” I said. “It must have been difficult.”
“Often doing the right thing is difficult.”
“Speaking of the right thing, how long had it been since Elliot came to visit Cliff?” I asked.
“Too long,” Lettie said. “That young man owed Cliff for having raised him the way he did. It wouldn’t have hurt if he’d come home now and then to see his grandfather. Going off to Alaska was a slap in Cliff’s face.”
“Oh, no,” Lucy said. “Cliff understood. You know how he was. He believed that every young man should strike out on his own.”
The noise her sister made almost sounded like a snort.
“Did he encourage Elliot’s father to travel, too?” I asked, happy to have the opportunity to introduce the topic.
“He might have,” Lucy said
. “I don’t remember.”
“Probably did,” Lettie inserted. “Cliff’s son, Jerry, was a brooder, never had a smile, stayed in the house instead of out playing with the other boys. Cliff’s wife, Nanette, always worried about him.”
“He was very studious,” Lucy countered. “And I think he was crushed when his mother died. It’s hard for a boy to lose his mother. I don’t think Cliff understood how much her death affected him.”
“He didn’t have a lot of patience with Jerry, it’s true,” Lettie said. “I think Cliff was relieved when his son went off to college.”
“What did Jerry study in college?” I asked.
“Anthro . . . anthro . . . ,” Lucy said, “What was it?”
“Anthropology. Only he never completed his degree,” Lettie said scornfully. “A waste of Cliff’s money.”
“What about Jerry’s wife? Wasn’t she interested in anthropology, too?”
“That was a strange pair if there ever was one,” said Lettie.
“Now, Lettie, she wasn’t that bad.” Lucy poured more tea into my cup.
Lettie ignored her sister’s comment and continued. “When Jerry came back from college with her on his arm, I thought Cliff would drop dead on the spot.”
“Her?” I said.
“Marina,” Lettie said. “She’d hooked Jerry around her little finger with her big sad eyes and pouty mouth. Poor Cliff. It was bad enough that his son had taken up with Marina, but the fact that they’d gotten married on the sly by some justice of the peace was the final stake in Cliff’s heart.”
“More tea, Jessica?” Lucy asked.
“Thank you, no,” I said. “Where did they live?”
“With Cliff, of course,” Lucy said, “in his house.”
“Did Jerry work?” I asked.
“For the short time he and Marina were living there,” Lettie said. “Cliff always said that Jerry had the makings of a good carpenter and wanted him to go into business with him.”
“Did they?” I asked. “Go into business together?”
“Jerry wasn’t very good at talking to people,” Lucy said. “Isn’t that right, Lettie?”
Murder, She Wrote: The Ghost and Mrs. Fletcher Page 12
