Murder, She Wrote: The Ghost and Mrs. Fletcher by Jessica Fletcher Donald Bain

Author:Jessica Fletcher Donald Bain
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2015-09-17T16:00:00+00:00

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.

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