Murder, She Wrote by Jessica Fletcher

conjecture.”
    â€œMort’s team didn’t find the bullet in the chair?”
    â€œI wouldn’t know,” Seth said stiffly. “But I’m not a detective. I’m just the doctor doing the postmortem. I’m not deserving of having all the facts.”
    â€œDidn’t you ask?”
    â€œI did. I left a message at the sheriff’s office, and he never called me back.” He sounded irritated that Mort had withheld information from him.
    â€œHe’s been so busy with the press,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll get back to you soon.”
    It didn’t add up that Mort would deny Seth information about the case, but I decided to drop the subject for the moment.
    â€œIs that why there wasn’t a lot of blood?” I said. “With a bullet through the heart, wouldn’t it have stopped pumping right away?”
    â€œThat’s the theory,” he replied.
    â€œDo you think the body was moved?” I asked.
    â€œNot unless someone had a wheelbarrow handy or was an Olympic weight lifter,” Seth said. “You saw how difficult it was just to place her body on the gurney. There’s a reason they say it’s hard to lift ‘deadweight.’ It is.”
    â€œIt would’ve been possible, of course, if the killer had an accomplice,” I said.
    â€œAyuh. Any evidence of that?”
    â€œNot that I know of. But someone went to a lot of trouble to create a dramatic picture with the body.”
    â€œTrue.”
    â€œWhat did you do with the piece of film?” I asked.
    â€œBelieve the sheriff took it for the evidence locker.”
    â€œDid you look at it at all?” I asked. “The director said he couldn’t tell from a distance if it was a clip from a motion picture or simply undeveloped film.”
    â€œIt was from some movie, all right,” Seth said. “But I wouldn’t know any more than that. Held it up to the light and you could see these square images between the sprocket holes.”
    â€œMort will have to find out what movie the film was from. It could be a message from the killer.”
    â€œAnd how’s he going to do that?” Seth asked, taking another piece of garlic bread. “He likes to watch cartoons. His favorite film star is probably Yosemite Sam.” Seth looked over my shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Sheriff?”
    â€œI see you’re saying nice things about me again,” Mort said, pulling out an empty chair and sitting down.
    â€œI take it the news conference is over,” I said to him.
    â€œMust be,” he replied, waving at our waitress. “Saw you sneaking out the side door,” he continued. “Figured while the movie stars were drawing their attention, it was a good time to make my exit.” He took the menu from Marie, gave it a quick once-over, and ordered a small sausage pizza. “And tell the chef I like my crust thin and crispy.”
    â€œI’ll tell him,” Marie replied, “but he’ll make it the way he always does.”
    â€œJust give him the message, please,” Mort said, grinning. He waited until Marie disappeared into the kitchen. “Actually, it’s not bad for not–New York pizza,” he told us.
    â€œSo how is the case going, Sheriff?” Seth asked. “Locate the bullet yet?”
    â€œNo! Can’t find the darn thing. And I had my guys comb that set.” Mort tore off two pieces of the garlic bread and stuffed them into his mouth, leaving the hard heel in the basket.
    I waited, giving him time to chew, then asked, “How do you explain it?”
    He shrugged. “The killer must have moved her from somewhere else,” he said, swallowing, “but the evidence techs didn’t find any blood smears on the carpet or carpet fibers on her robe or whatever you call that thing she was wearing. There was nothing to show the body had been dragged.”
    Marie brought Mort