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had several complaints from the deceased in recent weeks. Miss Todd claimed she heard noises inside and outside her home.”
    Thank you, Chief! I thought.
    “I see,” Rubino said. “And did you find the source of these noises?”
    Ciders shook his head.
    “Well then, Miss Todd was probably suffering from some form of mild dementia,” Rubino replied. “She was quite old and very reclusive. On top of that, I doubt she’d had a medical checkup or a psychological evaluation in decades.”
    “Not everyone gets a psychological evaluation as a matter of course,” I noted.
    Rubino nodded. “True, but living alone like this . . . her physician probably would have ordered one. She could have been experiencing paranoia. Delusions. The onset of audio hallucinations—”
    Audio hallucinations! Jack laughed. Hear that, doll? That’s what you thought I was!
    “Excuse me,” Seymour interrupted. “But Miss Todd wasn’t suffering from any sort of delusions, audio or otherwise. I spoke with her nearly every day.”
    “And I spoke with her over the phone earlier today,” I added. “She sounded perfectly normal to me.”
    “Selective observations are far from conclusive,” Dr. Rubino said. “Neither of you are medical professionals.”
    “But still . . .” I paused. “Don’t you think it’s at least remotely possible that Miss Todd was frightened to death?”
    Dr. Rubino gave the notion about two seconds’ worth of consideration before laughing out loud.
    I shifted with embarrassment.
    You got nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. You asked a question. You deserve an answer. So tell him!
    Jack was right. I cleared my throat—loudly. “Isn’t it true, Doctor, that under certain circumstances strong emotions like fear or stress can initiate the onset of a stroke, a heart attack, or a hemorrhage?”
    Ciders stared expectantly at the doctor and so did everyone else in the room. Now it was Dr. Rubino’s turn to shift uncomfortably.
    “It’s possible, Mrs. McClure. Yes, I suppose. But dying of fright . . .” He shook his head. “That’s far from an official cause of death. Do you understand my meaning? It’s not something I’m going to rule.”
    Seymour loudly exhaled. He’d obviously heard enough. “I’m out of here!” he announced. “This is a bummer, you know. I was Miss Todd’s friend . . . and anyway I still have mail to deliver, too—if I’m not fired already!”
    Ciders stared at the mailman through furrowed brows. “I still suspect you, Tarnish.”
    “Of what?!”
    “Of causing those noises Miss Todd reported. I don’t know why you’d want to scare the old woman to death, but I’m keeping my eye on you.”
    “You’re crazy, Ciders. Why would I want to scare a nice old lady like Miss Todd?”
    “Who knows why you do anything, Tarnish. You’ve been a bad seed since I hauled you in for setting Montague’s Woods on fire—”
    “I was in the eighth grade! Me and Keith Keenan were shooting off bottle rockets. One of them got away from us!”
    “You started an illegal fire, drank beer while you were still underage, and you were in possession of pornography—”
    “Porno? It was a Playboy magazine me and Keith found in the trash, for cripes’ sake!”
    “Plus you were cutting school.”
    “Just gym class,” Seymour said. “It sucked, and do you know why?” He stepped up to Chief Ciders and poked his finger into the man’s barrel chest. “Because it was full of a-holes like your Neanderthal nephew over there! And that’s the problem with bullies like him—and you —more brawn than brains. Just think about this logically for a second. What possible motive would I have for frightening poor old Miss Todd to death?”
    Ciders’s face reddened. He didn’t have an answer. The room fell silent. No one moved. And then the doorbell loudly buzzed. We all tensed. Ciders gestured to the front door with an angry jerk of his thumb.
    “Eddie! See who that is!”
    He did. And a moment later he