Murder by Mushroom (12 page)

So Mrs. Farmer’s “wallowing in sin” comment might have been directed at Kathy or Richard or both of them.

Jackie’s scalp prickled. She might have found the murderer, and there might be more than one.

A
t precisely nine o’clock Thursday morning, Jackie pulled into the McDonald’s parking lot. A police car sat near the door, the driver’s seat empty. A quiver began in her stomach as she retrieved her notebook from the passenger seat. She debated whether or not to bring it, because her scratchings would surely seem amateurish to an experienced investigator like Dennis. She didn’t want him to think her a dope.

On the other hand, she wanted him to know how much work she had done on this case.

Standing, she smoothed the wrinkles out of her white slacks and brushed the cat hair off her pink blouse. She caught her hand as it tried to perform its habitual gesture. Drat Margaret. She’d never be able to push her hair behind her ears again without thinking about it.

The restaurant was practically empty, with only a few tables taken. At a booth in the corner, near the restrooms, sat Dennis. He stood when she entered and raised a hand to catch her attention.

Jackie stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of him. She’d expected him to be wearing his uniform, not jeans and a T-shirt. A formfitting T-shirt.

She clutched her notebook to her chest and swallowed against a suddenly dry throat.

“Hey, Jackie,” he said. “I didn’t order yet, because I didn’t know what you wanted.”

He walked up to her, forcing her to raise her chin to look him in the eye. The quiver in her stomach transformed itself into a full-fledged flutter.

“Uh, coffee,” she managed to stammer. “Just coffee.”

“Not a morning person, huh?” His lopsided grin took her breath. “I hope you don’t mind if I eat. I went to the gym at seven, and I’m starved.”

She tore her eyes away from his face. “Sure. Go ahead.”

“Grab a seat, and I’ll be right there.”

Jackie slid into the booth and gave herself a stern talking to while she waited for him to return from the counter. She would
not
act like a moonstruck teenager. They were here to discuss a serious matter. She would keep her mind on business and
not
allow herself to become distracted.

By the time he returned, Jackie had herself under control. She even managed a friendly thank-you when he placed a cup of coffee and a handful of packets in front of her.

“I wasn’t sure how you take it.”

She picked up a blue package of sweetener. “This is fine. I try to stick with the low-cal stuff.”

His eyes swept over her. “I can’t imagine why.”

I will not blush! I will not!
By sheer force of will, Jackie managed to return his grin with a polite smile.

He unwrapped the first of his two biscuit sandwiches, and the scent of bacon enveloped them. Two bites later, the sandwich was gone.

Okay, so he could use a little work on the table manners.

“What do you have there?” He nodded toward the spiral notebook, then took a sip from his steaming cup and unwrapped the second sandwich.

“My notes.” Jackie flipped open the cover, revealing the first page of her neat script. “At night I write down everything I’ve discovered during the day. It helps me get my thoughts organized.”

He gave an approving nod. “That’s smart. It’s a good idea to make notes while a conversation is still fresh in your mind, so you don’t forget anything.”

“Oh, I don’t have to worry about that.” She picked up her purse and plopped it down on the table between them. “I’m recording all my conversations.”

His eyebrows arched as he studied the black microphone clipped to her shoulder strap and Jackie’s stomach sank. What if she had been breaking the law?

She leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “Is that all right? I mean, is it legal?”

His forehead cleared. “Oh, yeah, don’t worry about that. Kentucky is a one-party consent state.” She must have looked blank because he explained, “In some states, both parties must be aware that a conversation is being recorded in order for the recording to be considered legal evidence. In others, like here, only one person has to be aware.”

Jackie sat back. That was actually kind of scary. She thought about some of the conversations she’d had over the years. Though she’d never done anything illegal, having a conversation she considered private suddenly show up in court as public evidence creeped her out.

“So are you going to give me those recordings?”

Startled, she looked up at him. “No! I didn’t make them to turn over to the police. I just did it because I have a terrible memory and I wanted to make sure I got the details right if I happened to learn something important.”

“And have you? Learned anything important, that is.”

“Maybe.” She awarded him with a brief smile before assuming a businesslike tone. “I’m prepared to share my findings with you, Trooper Walsh, if you’re prepared to tell me what you’ve discovered.”

“You’ve already obtained inside information. The knife and gloves.”

“True. But I saw those myself, so that really doesn’t count.”

He shrugged a shoulder, not conceding the point but apparently not prepared to argue about it. “You know I can’t give you any information about this case. But here’s something new that’s a matter of public record. Yesterday we got the toxicology report, and it confirmed the coroner’s preliminary findings of monomethylhydrazine poisoning.”

“That’s not new.” Jackie dismissed his news with a wave.

“No, but it does allow us to more accurately pinpoint the time of the crime.” He glanced at her purse. “Are you recording this conversation?”

Actually, she’d intended to, but when she’d seen Dennis looking like a regular guy instead of a police officer, she’d forgotten to push the button. Relieved, she shook her head.

He placed both forearms on the table, his coffee cup held loosely between his hands. “Since the lab found no trace of toxic mushroom on your kitchen utensils, and since we’ve been unable to find anyone else who was ill after eating your casserole—” He grinned at Jackie’s sudden exhalation of relief “—we can be fairly confident that the mushrooms were added at Mrs. Farmer’s house.”

“You knew that already,” Jackie reminded him. “From the knife and gloves.”

He spoke as one delivering a particularly sage piece of wisdom. “The first rule of detective work is
Never make assumptions.
Until we get the lab results, we only
assume
the knife and gloves are related to this case.”

Jackie picked up her coffee stirrer and folded it in the middle. “Okay, that’s fair. So did the toxicology report tell you anything else?”

He nodded. “It told us the approximate time Mrs. Farmer started digesting those mushrooms. Around five-thirty on Monday, the day after the picnic.”

“But she didn’t die until Tuesday night.” Remembering the smell in Mrs. Farmer’s house and the state of her bathroom, Jackie shuddered.

“That’s right. Symptoms for that type of mushroom poisoning generally set in seven to ten hours after ingestion. Deaths are rare, and usually caused by liver damage, but in Mrs. Farmer’s case—”

“She had a weak heart.”

Dennis nodded. “The strain of severe abdominal cramps, vomiting and diarrhea proved too much for her. Just like a bad case of the flu would have done. In fact, she probably thought she had a touch of the flu at first.”

“Which explains why she didn’t try to call for help until later. The telephone had been knocked off the table and was under the bed when I got there.”

“By then she was too weak to pick it up.”

They sat silent for a moment, Jackie thinking how terrible the last day of Mrs. Farmer’s life must have been. “So
assuming
the knife and gloves were used to chop those mushrooms—” she flashed a grin at her disregard for the first rule of detective work “—that means someone planted them in my casserole between one-thirty on Sunday afternoon, which is about when she got home from the picnic, and five-thirty Monday evening. That’s a long time.”

“Yeah, but it’s what we have to work with.” Dennis took a sip, then set his cup on the table. “Your turn. What have you found out?”

Jackie squirmed on the hard seat. She really didn’t consider this gossip. She was talking to the police, after all. In the name of justice, she needed to turn over any real evidence she had.

Only problem was she didn’t have much
real
evidence. Not like knives or gloves. She had a lot of “he said, she said” stuff and a couple of really good assumptions. She knew what he’d say about her assumptions.

“I haven’t found a lot,” she admitted.

His shoulders lifted a fraction. “Let me decide for myself.”

“You remember what I told you the other day about the letters?” He nodded. “Well, turns out Mrs. Farmer has written several that could provide a motive.”

She turned in her notebook to the page labeled ESTHER HODGES. Dennis read the heading upside down and nodded.

“Yeah, we know about that one.”

“You do?”

“We talked to her yesterday. We’ve been questioning people since Friday, and her name came up several times. Apparently, that nasty letter caused quite a stir in your church.” He finally picked up his second biscuit and devoured it as quickly as the first.

Well, that certainly let a bit of air out of her balloon. She hadn’t considered that the police might find out the same information she had. In fact, she had been fairly confident she could weasel out rumors they would never hear.

Wouldn’t Margaret be shocked to find out Jackie wasn’t the only one who considered Esther a suspect?

She looked at Dennis. “Do you think she did it?”

“Do you?” he shot back.

“She’s still pretty mad at Mrs. Farmer over that letter.”

He shrugged again. “Wouldn’t you be?”

Yeah, she probably would. It was a nasty thing to do.

“What else have you got?” He read her upside-down handwriting.

“Sharon Carlson.” Jackie flipped the page. “She and her husband—”

“Nicholas. Yeah, we got them, too.”

Jackie sat back in disgust. Did Dennis know
everything
she knew? “So what do you think of them as suspects?”

He took a quick sip from his coffee. “I can’t discuss that.”

But Jackie saw an odd expression cross his features before they closed down. She hid a smile. He’d just told her what she wanted to know. His attitude was casual when discussing Mrs. Hodges, but guarded when she mentioned the Carlsons. A thrill of excitement zipped through her. He’d given her insider information, whether he’d intended to or not.

“Of course,” she assured him, “just a word of advice—I think you should check out Sharon. She has access to rubber gloves, you know.”

Dennis shrugged. “Everybody does. You can buy them at any drugstore.”

“Maybe, but you should have seen how angry Sharon got when I mentioned Mrs. Farmer’s name.”

“That’s good to know.”

Jackie drank her coffee, which had gone lukewarm. She wasn’t even going to bother mentioning Margaret. Besides the fact that the idea of Margaret being a killer was ludicrous, Jackie would feel like a complete fink admitting she’d considered her friend even for a moment.

In fact, Dennis probably already knew about the petition to oust Pastor Palmer. He seemed to know everything else, which left her feeling a bit disconcerted.

There was one thing she’d wager he didn’t know.

“So have you come across any mention of Richard Watson in your investigation?”

Dennis eyed her speculatively. She hid a smile. Yep, just as she’d thought. She had something new to offer after all.

“I’ve heard of him. He’s a big shot down at the bank, isn’t he? Does he go to your church?”

“Oh, yes. He and his wife have been members there for years.”

“Don’t tell me Mrs. Farmer wrote a letter about him, too?”

Jackie pushed aside the discarded sugar wrappers and napkins and leaned forward. “No, but I think maybe she was getting ready to.”

She told him what she’d seen last night, satisfied when his eyes widened appreciatively.

“And this Kathy Dorsey. What do you know about her?”

“I know Mrs. Farmer went around telling everyone she was incompetent and shouldn’t be allowed to work at the bank. At first I thought that might be her motive. But after last night…” She shook her head.

Dennis reached across the table suddenly, resting his hand on hers. The warmth of his touch made her mouth go dry.

“Jackie, this is a great lead. Thank you.”

Rational thought evaporated.
Say something, you idiot!

A cheery voice cut through Jackie’s fog. “What a pleasant surprise!”

Jackie’s hand seemed to jerk away of its own volition, and she felt a flash of regret at its treachery. But only a flash, because in the next instant all the blood in her body rushed to her head, flooding her face with fire.

What in the world was Margaret doing here?

“Hello, Mrs. Palmer.” Dennis pulled his hand slowly back across the table, hiding a grin at Jackie’s red face. He rose politely and smiled at the new arrival. “Won’t you join us?”

“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “I’m in such a rush. I’ve got about a million things to do today.”

Still seated, Jackie turned a look on the preacher’s wife that could almost be described as angry. Dennis pocketed his hands. Was she embarrassed to be seen with him?

“McDonald’s is on your list of errands for the day?” Jackie asked, studying Mrs. Palmer intently.

The older woman’s smile deepened. “I was on my way to the grocery store and realized I felt a little snackish. You should never do your grocery shopping hungry, you know.”

Disbelief colored Jackie’s expression. Dennis didn’t believe Mrs. Palmer, either, but he would never be so impolite as to show it. He was opening his mouth to say something to ease the tension when he noticed the expression on the woman’s face. He had seen that look before. In fact, his own mother wore it every time she introduced him to a girl.

He felt a sudden and intense desire to escape. Quickly.

“We were just about to leave,” he said, drawing surprised stares from both women. “I need to get dressed and over to the station before Detective Conner arrives.”