the table in the foyer and left. I figured she was sleeping late or something. She did that sometimes when she stayed up late to see an old movie on cable.”
“You said you let yourself in?” I pressed. “So she left the door unlocked?”
Seymour nodded. “She has a mailbox by the front gate, but she doesn’t like to walk down the drive. So as a favor, I always take the mail to her door. She’s usually there to answer, but she told me that if she ever doesn’t answer, I was supposed to just set the mail on the foyer table for her. Frankly, I never bought the reason she gave me for not answering the door.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean she told me that she couldn’t always hear the doorbell and that’s why I was supposed to leave the mail without seeing her, but . . .” Seymour shrugged. “I just think that some days Miss Todd wanted company and some days she didn’t. On the days she didn’t, she’d just leave the door open and ignore the bell. No big deal.”
“When you opened the door and stepped inside, did you hear anything in the house?” I asked. “Did you see anyone at all in the vicinity?”
Seymour shook his head. “No. And that’s nothing new. Larchmont’s like a ghost town when I deliver the mail in the late morning. The hotshots are already at work, their kids are either in school or at some exclusive horsey summer camp, and the ladies who lunch don’t exactly do their own yard work. Sometimes I’ll see a maid or a gardener, but there wasn’t anyone on the street during my rounds today.”
“So what happened after you left Miss Todd’s house?”
Seymour scratched his head. “Well, I didn’t leave right away. I was really hungry by then, and that delicious pizza smell was driving me nuts, so I sat down under that big oak tree in her front yard and ate my lunch. And then I ate the cheese off of one of Miss Todd’s slices—waste not, want not, right?”
“You said you were really hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Then you must have been in a hurry to eat, right?”
“Right.”
“Were you in enough of a hurry to neglect latching Miss Todd’s door properly?”
Seymour closed his eyes. “Oh, damn. I did that once before.”
“Okay, so that’s why the doors were opened. The wind must have blown them in and knocked down the mail and overturned the little table.”
“That’s a stretch, Mrs. McClure,” Ciders said.
Tell him, doll.
“There wasn’t any blood in the foyer—not on the mail or the floor leading up to the corpse. So the ‘signs’ of a struggle are suspect if there’s another explanation, right? Wouldn’t a defense attorney argue that?”
Ciders scowled. “You’re reaching.”
I turned back to Seymour. “What happened after you ate your lunch?”
“I was full and it was a hot day,” Seymour said. “I kind of nodded off. When a squirrel ran across my chest, I finally woke up.”
“And that sauce on your uniform?” Eddie prompted.
“The squirrel spooked me, and I rolled over Miss Todd’s two slices. Got the sauce all over me. But that isn’t why I was running—”
Bull McCoy snorted. “What? You’re afraid of squirrels?”
“When I woke up, I realized I was late making the rest of my deliveries. Real late. Last month, I got slapped with a reprimand, and I didn’t need another one on my record.”
Seymour looked at his Wonder Woman watch, then openly glared at Bull McCoy. “I’m still not done with my deliveries, thanks to Deputy Dawg here.”
Bull’s face flushed. “Watch your mouth—”
Seymour smirked. “Bite me, Bull!”
Bull stepped forward—and suddenly there I was again, mashed between two angry men. This time the ghost wasn’t cursing. He was laughing.
“You’re not helping, Jack!”
Oh, yeah? Watch this—
A brisk, cold breeze suddenly banged the dining room window so hard the two men started. I heard another bang and realized Jack had blown in the front doors, too. (Nothing like making your
“You said you let yourself in?” I pressed. “So she left the door unlocked?”
Seymour nodded. “She has a mailbox by the front gate, but she doesn’t like to walk down the drive. So as a favor, I always take the mail to her door. She’s usually there to answer, but she told me that if she ever doesn’t answer, I was supposed to just set the mail on the foyer table for her. Frankly, I never bought the reason she gave me for not answering the door.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean she told me that she couldn’t always hear the doorbell and that’s why I was supposed to leave the mail without seeing her, but . . .” Seymour shrugged. “I just think that some days Miss Todd wanted company and some days she didn’t. On the days she didn’t, she’d just leave the door open and ignore the bell. No big deal.”
“When you opened the door and stepped inside, did you hear anything in the house?” I asked. “Did you see anyone at all in the vicinity?”
Seymour shook his head. “No. And that’s nothing new. Larchmont’s like a ghost town when I deliver the mail in the late morning. The hotshots are already at work, their kids are either in school or at some exclusive horsey summer camp, and the ladies who lunch don’t exactly do their own yard work. Sometimes I’ll see a maid or a gardener, but there wasn’t anyone on the street during my rounds today.”
“So what happened after you left Miss Todd’s house?”
Seymour scratched his head. “Well, I didn’t leave right away. I was really hungry by then, and that delicious pizza smell was driving me nuts, so I sat down under that big oak tree in her front yard and ate my lunch. And then I ate the cheese off of one of Miss Todd’s slices—waste not, want not, right?”
“You said you were really hungry?”
“Starving.”
“Then you must have been in a hurry to eat, right?”
“Right.”
“Were you in enough of a hurry to neglect latching Miss Todd’s door properly?”
Seymour closed his eyes. “Oh, damn. I did that once before.”
“Okay, so that’s why the doors were opened. The wind must have blown them in and knocked down the mail and overturned the little table.”
“That’s a stretch, Mrs. McClure,” Ciders said.
Tell him, doll.
“There wasn’t any blood in the foyer—not on the mail or the floor leading up to the corpse. So the ‘signs’ of a struggle are suspect if there’s another explanation, right? Wouldn’t a defense attorney argue that?”
Ciders scowled. “You’re reaching.”
I turned back to Seymour. “What happened after you ate your lunch?”
“I was full and it was a hot day,” Seymour said. “I kind of nodded off. When a squirrel ran across my chest, I finally woke up.”
“And that sauce on your uniform?” Eddie prompted.
“The squirrel spooked me, and I rolled over Miss Todd’s two slices. Got the sauce all over me. But that isn’t why I was running—”
Bull McCoy snorted. “What? You’re afraid of squirrels?”
“When I woke up, I realized I was late making the rest of my deliveries. Real late. Last month, I got slapped with a reprimand, and I didn’t need another one on my record.”
Seymour looked at his Wonder Woman watch, then openly glared at Bull McCoy. “I’m still not done with my deliveries, thanks to Deputy Dawg here.”
Bull’s face flushed. “Watch your mouth—”
Seymour smirked. “Bite me, Bull!”
Bull stepped forward—and suddenly there I was again, mashed between two angry men. This time the ghost wasn’t cursing. He was laughing.
“You’re not helping, Jack!”
Oh, yeah? Watch this—
A brisk, cold breeze suddenly banged the dining room window so hard the two men started. I heard another bang and realized Jack had blown in the front doors, too. (Nothing like making your
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