The Cabot Cove Police Crime Blotter: Jessica Fletcher On The Loose

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I admit it, I’ve been watching “Murder, She Wrote” on Netflix with the AC cranked. It’s comforting TV. But did you know that Cabot Cove had a murder rate 50% higher than Honduras? There were 274 murders in this picturesque town with a population of 3,500–making it the murder capital of the world!

I began to wonder what the the Cabot Cove Police Crime Blotter would look like; a mix of small town thefts, gossip and blood-chilling murder. I also wondered if the Cabot Cove townsfolk started to get suspicious of mystery writer/amateur sleuth Jessica Fletcher, who was always sniffing around the crime scene.

It might look like this…

CABOT COVE POLICE CRIME BLOTTER

Monday:

10:15am A freshly baked apple pie was stolen from the kitchen window of Mrs. Agnes Winthrop. Victim reported seeing Dr. Seth Hazlitt nearby, covered in crumbs. Evidence is circumstantial, even if we all know how much The Good Doctor enjoys apple pie.

2:15pm Town tramp Lila Morris found dead in her bathtub by her neighbor Betty Tilley. While shocked by the victim’s electrocuted body, she was equally shocked by the amount of soap scum on the tub. “I guess when you’re the town tramp, you don’t have time for housework,” said Mrs. Tilley when asked for comment. Famous crime novelist and Cabot Cove resident Jessica Fletcher “has a hunch” this death was no accident.

9:45pm Sheriff Amos Tupper’s house egged, most likely by “teenage troublemakers”.

Tuesday:
9:45am Flirtatious Realtor Eve Simpson spotted “acting suspicious” with tall, dark, city slicker from Boston who seemingly runs with a “fast crowd”.

12:30pm Unlikable, sour-faced bookkeeper Phyllis Walters keeled over and died in her hash browns at local tourist trap, “Lansbury’s Landing ”. Unsurprisingly, famous mystery writer Jessica Fletcher was at the crime scene, and pinpointed the poisoned peach preserves as the murder weapon. Paunchy Sheriff Amos Tupper expressed dismay, as he had often enjoyed their “hearty home style breakfasts”.

3:15pm Novelty pelican mailbox belonging to Mayor Sam Booth smashed in, most likely by “teenage hotheads”.

Wednesday:
10:00am Man dressed as Paul Revere found dead in Edna Grant’s attic. Nosy, eavesdropping mystery scribe Jessica Fletcher, who really seems to have a knack for sniffing out stiffs, discovered the body. Shaking her head with vague concern she said, “I just know at some point I will remember some small detail in this room: a piece of string, a clip on earring, a deflated balloon, a half-eaten bag of stale Doritos, and I’ll solve this case.”

Thursday:
3:30pm Cabot Cove library reported that several returned books have been defaced. Most notably, the front cover of Walt Whitman’s classic, “Leaves of Grass” had both the letters “G” and “R” scratched out. Crime most likely committed by “teenage ruffians”.

4:30pm Fishmonger Wyatt Peabody washed up dead on the beach. Although he charged too much for his subpar and often smelly halibut, his grieving wife insists he was “a good man”. Local busybody and hack writer Jessica Fletcher, who is starting to creep out the Cabot Cove townsfolk with the alarming frequency in which dead bodies turn up around her, was at the crime scene yet again.

Friday:
Traveling circus in town. Clown found dead, stuffed in cannon. You-know-who was there, feigning concern and telling anyone within earshot about her “hunches”.

Saturday:
2:25pm Dr. Seth Hazlitt reported that someone defecated in his azalea bushes and claims he saw Agnes Winthrop running away and giggling. Evidence is circumstantial, even if we all know Mrs. Winthrop routinely farts in church and blames it on Mildred Molloy’s admittedly ugly baby.

5:30pm Local botanist Bud Newcastle found dead with a pair of Jessica Fletcher’s pantyhose wrapped around his neck and her shoulder pads stuffed in his mouth. Although evidence naturally points to the meddlesome amateur sleuth as the culprit, Mrs. Fletcher has teamed up with bumbling Sheriff Amos Tupper to solve the crime.

8:55pm Cops called when excess hooting and hollering was heard in the back of the Cabot Cove movie theater. Town rubbernecker Jessica Fletcher was on hand with her nephew Grady, and traced the offensive noise back to three teenage rowdies. Cracking under the weight of Fletcher’s steely gaze, the youths also admitted to the house egging, novelty mailbox smashing and library book defacing. When asked for comment, the teenage culprits remarked, “Aw gee, we were just letting off some steam. But now we know better. We’ve learned our lesson. Thanks Mrs. Fletcher. You’re a-okay!”

Sunday:
7:30am Someone rifled through my garbage. For the record: those were NOT my magazines.

6:35pm Self-proclaimed reincarnated Salem witch Beverly Tibbles found dead in a vat of clam chowder. Yet again, annoying town snoop and fussbudget Jessica Fletcher was there. Yet again, she had a “hunch” and felt compelled to share it with everyone. Yet again, within 58 minutes of discovering this corpse, she was smiling and laughing as if nothing had happened. Frankly, I think we need to convene a town hall meeting about this bestselling Angel of Death in sensible pumps. Am I alone here?

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