The Ghost and Mrs. Fletcher by Jessica Fletcher Page B

the receiver and turned off the flame.
    â€œWell, you certainly took your sweet time getting back to me.”
    â€œSeth, I just walked in. You’ve barely given me time to hang up my coat and look at my mail.” I poured the boiling water over a bag of decaf English breakfast tea and took my mug to the table. “Tim, Elsie, Barnaby, and I worked all afternoon sorting the books, and I think I’m finally beginning to see good progress, although—can you believe it?—there’s another set of bookcases in the basement to deal with. By the way, I met Eve’s handyman, too, a disheveled sort who retreated into Cliff’s barn without waiting to be introduced to the others.”
    â€œI hope he’s not planning to take off with all Cliff’s carpentry equipment.”
    â€œThat’s doubtful since he said he came by motorcycle.”
    I heard Seth grunt. “Who
is
this guy? Did Eve ever work with him before?”
    â€œGood questions. I’ll have to ask her. She must have trusted him with the key since he made himself at home. He was using the back door and had left his lunch in the refrigerator.”
    â€œMaybe he can explain all this haunted house nonsense.”
    I laughed. “You have to admit that it adds a certain drama to the old Spencer Percy House.”
    â€œIf anybody believes in ghosts,” he said. “I don’t.”
    â€œBy the way, I’m a little concerned about Lucy Conrad,” I told him. “She seems so withdrawn these days.”
    â€œDeath is a difficult ordeal to get through. You of all people should know that.”
    â€œI do, but I’m afraid it’s more than that. Lettie hinted that she’s not as sharp as she used to be.”
    â€œHappens to the best of us.”
    I changed the subject. “Sorry that I didn’t get back to you sooner,” I said. “The cell phone is charging as we speak. I assume you called me for the same reason I tried to reach you. Did the autopsy take place?”
    â€œIt did and it was no easy task. The medical examiner was mighty piqued at me for waiting so long, but the funeral home finally sent back the body and we did the postmortem together.”
    â€œAnd did it set your mind at ease?”
    â€œNot exactly, although I was right in my analysis of how Cliff Cooper died. He did not die of ‘respiratory failure’ due to pneumonia. His diagnosis was chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, COPD. It was right there on his chart. He had chronic bronchitis, typical for such patients. Sometimes it becomes pneumonia, but in this case, it didn’t.”
    â€œHe did have a terrible cough.”
    â€œAyuh, that he did, and the damn fool kept resisting the medicine that would ease his symptoms. Even so, he showed no signs of being in the end stage of life. He was alert, read your book in one night. No mental confusion. He made sense when he talked to you, didn’t he?”
    â€œVery much so. He was insistent about what he wanted when he dictated his will to me.”
    â€œExactly. He had a good appetite, enough that he complained about the hospital food the day before he died. It just didn’t add up.”
    â€œSo what does that mean? What was his cause of death?”
    â€œHe died of asphyxiation. He died of no oxygen. He couldn’t breathe.”
    â€œIsn’t that respiratory failure? Did his lungs fill up with fluid?”
    â€œI suppose you can call it that in a generic sense. But no! His airway was completely closed off.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œPossibly with a pillow.”
    â€œGood heavens, Seth! Are you saying that someone
killed
Cliff Cooper?”
    â€œThat’s what it looks like to me.”
    â€œAre you certain?”
    â€œThere 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