Free The Ghost and Mrs. Fletcher by Jessica Fletcher

up on the sill.”
    â€œI was just trying to get the right angle,” the cameraman said.
    I glanced at Eve and raised an eyebrow at Aggie. “Miss Olynski, you promised me there would be no cameras while I was here.”
    â€œHe was just exploring the location for later,” she said, giving me an innocent smile. “Isn’t that right, Davy?”
    â€œI thought his name was Boris,” I said.
    â€œThat’s my stage name. It’s how I appear in the credits,” the young cameraman said. He turned to Miss Olynski. “Actually, I already got a few good shots, Aunt Aggie, just like you told me. I found an open window.”
    â€œWhere’s your camera?” I asked him.
    â€œI left it behind in the bushes when the sheriff grabbed me.”
    â€œYou mean you didn’t want me catching you red-handed peeping through windows and taking pictures,” Mort said. “You ever hear of ‘Peeping Toms’? In this state it’s a felony to trespass on private property for the purposes of peeping in on others. You’re facing a fine and maybe a little jail time.”
    â€œNo way! Look, I gotta return the camera day after tomorrow or I owe ’em more dough. Tell him, Aunt Aggie. I was just shooting for your video program.”
    â€œWe’d better get his camera in case it rains,” I said. I turned to Mort. “I’ll see if I can find it while you question your—your captive.”
    â€œSure, Mrs. F.” Mort pulled over a chair for Boris, also known as Davy. “Have a seat, son,” he said. He turned to Eve and Aggie. “So, ladies, what’s going on here?”
    I walked out the back door and scouted the perimeter of the house until I found the video camera lying on its side in a thicket of bushes on a jacket I presumed belonged to Davy. Several sets of footprints caused a pattern in the damp earth beneath the window where Mort had nabbed him. The window was open as Davy had claimed, and an apple crate sat on the ground below it. I stepped up on the crate to see which room the window looked into. It was the library. I held up Davy’s camera and opened the viewfinder. If he had angled his camera just right, he could also have seen into the front hall when we’d come in. So much for the promises of the “psychic sensation” not to film that morning while I was there.
    I stepped off the crate, still holding Davy’s camera.
But how did he get here?
I don’t see any truck.
    I retraced my steps to the back door, holding the camera and jacket. The property had a large barn where Cliff had maintained his workshop, and I wondered if Davy had parked behind it, or maybe inside. Aggie had told Eve her truck wouldn’t start, but maybe she’d given it to Davy with instructions to park it out of sight.
    When I returned to the kitchen, Aggie was explaining the details of using a sage stick to Eve and Mort.
    â€œHey, Mrs. F.,” Mort said, “Miss Olynski here said I can watch while she—what was it again?”
    â€œWhile I sage the house,” Aggie supplied.
    â€œThat okay with you?”
    â€œWhy would I have any objections, Mort? But what about your prisoner here?” I handed Davy his jacket and camera.
    â€œMiss Olynski explained it was all a big mistake. She has an online television show, or I guess you’d call it a video show. Right?” Mort looked to Aggie for confirmation. “She said I could be in it. That’d be fun. You think Maureen would like to see me ghostbusting on YouTube?”
    â€œI’m sure your wife would enjoy it very much,” I said, “but I’m not so sure the Cabot Cove Council would appreciate its chief uniformed police officer chasing after ghosts while on duty.”
    Mort nodded, clearly disappointed. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “Sorry, Davy, but no shooting while I’m on the premises.” He looked at his