Murder by Mushroom (14 page)

Jackie closed the front door and crossed the living room to the kitchen. Margaret turned a frown her way.

“Look,” Jackie said, “I’m sorry. I was wrong. But you have to admit Richard Watson showing up at her house at almost nine o’clock looked suspicious.”

Margaret snorted. “Maybe so, but you shouldn’t have said anything until you asked Kathy about it first. That would have been the right thing to do.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Next time I’ll know.” She was glad to see Margaret looking mollified. “I’m going to run to the bathroom, and then let’s talk about who we’re going to visit today. It’s my last day, so I need to talk to somebody who knows something. Here.” She picked up her notebook and slid it across the table. “Make a list.”

She spent a minute in the bathroom, taking in her reflection while she washed her hands. Kathy’s expression as she pulled away, her relief that Jackie would talk to the police for her, made Jackie feel like a heel. Would she have been so quick to forgive if she had been in Kathy’s place?

When she stepped into the kitchen, she stopped in surprise. In the next instant, guilt settled over her like a blanket. Her mouth went completely dry at the sight of Margaret reading her notebook.

Margaret looked up. The hurt in her eyes impaled Jackie from all the way across the room.

“You think
I
killed Alice?”

“B
ut…but…”

Jackie wanted to wither into a pool of misery right there on the kitchen floor. Margaret closed the notebook with a deliberate gesture, deep lines of distress marking her forehead. She sat for a moment with her hand resting on the cover and then left the chair to walk to the sink, where she stood with her back to Jackie.

“Margaret, please let me explain. Of course I don’t think you killed Mrs. Farmer. You aren’t capable of doing something like that.”

“No, I’m not.” Margaret spoke quietly, without turning.

The pain in her voice brought a lump of tears to Jackie’s throat. She’d never meant to hurt anybody. Especially Margaret. All she wanted to do was discover the truth.

“I was only trying to record every possible—” she caught the word
suspect
before it escaped her lips “—piece of information related to the case. I wanted to be thorough.”

“I see. And did you share your
information
with Trooper Walsh, like the information about Kathy? Are they going to come knocking on my door next?”

Jackie wished Margaret would turn around and look at her. “Of course not. There was no reason to. I know you wouldn’t do anything like that.”

Margaret did turn then. Jackie wanted cringed before her look of betrayal.

“Kathy wouldn’t do what you accused her of, either, Jackie. Nor would Esther.”

Wretched, Jackie nodded.

“You are a lovely girl,” Margaret said in the manner of one about to deliver a blow. Jackie braced herself. “But you are a little too self-centered. It’s not an attractive trait. This murder investigation is a perfect example.”

That stung. Jackie knew she had many faults, but no one had ever accused her of being self-centered.

“I only want to get to the bottom of a terrible crime,” she said, failing to keep a note of defensiveness from creeping into her tone. “I don’t see how that’s self-centered.”

“Is that all you want? You’re interested in nothing more than bringing a murderer to justice? Or is there something else?”

Margaret’s question shot straight through her. Was justice the only reason she had taken a week off work to investigate this case? Of course not. What if Detective Conner caught the murderer instead of her? Her name would be cleared either way. It wouldn’t matter who found the killer, right?

Inwardly, she cringed. She knew it would matter. She was trying to prove something by solving this murder. From the beginning she’d wanted to show off for the church, for the people at work, for Dennis. She’d wanted everyone to think she was clever, to admire her. She’d wanted to find the killer so she could make friends.

Did a more self-centered motive exist?

Jackie hung her head, unable to look at Margaret as the older woman continued in a gentle but determined voice.

“You are a Christian, Jackie. The Lord asks only two things of you—that you love God and that you love others.”

“But someone killed Mrs. Farmer,” Jackie insisted. “Am I supposed to love a killer?”

“Actually, yes, you’re to love without condoning sin. But that’s not what I’m talking about here. Your approach from the beginning has been to suspect everyone of wrong-doing, and that’s how you’ve treated them. You’ve spread gossip and accusations without meaning to, all because you’ve been so focused on finding a killer that you have forgotten to love. I’m not asking you to ignore the truth. All I’m saying is that your search for truth should be carried out with love.”

Jackie looked up. “How can I act with love without asking questions? I don’t understand.”

Margaret shook her head, sadness heavy in her eyes. “Alice didn’t understand, either, and look what it did to her.”

Back at home, Jackie slammed the front door and threw her bag on the table. The traitorous notebook peeked out, but she ignored it. Instead she scooped up a sleeping Linus and threw herself onto the couch. Since Aunt Betty’s death, Linus was her only confidant.

“I am such a jerk,” she told the startled cat. “Who am I kidding with this murder investigation stuff? I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’ve just hurt two people who didn’t deserve it.”

A few tears tried to force their way to her eyes, but she refused to give in to self-pity. Pain lodged in her throat as she tried to ignore the memory of betrayal on Margaret’s face, the devastation on Kathy’s. The worst part was that she liked both of them. A lot. Under different circumstances they might have become good friends. She’d blown that, for sure.

“Margaret’s right,” she moaned to Linus. “I don’t know a thing about love. How can I expect to ever find a husband if I can’t even manage to keep a friend?”

Unbidden, an image of Dennis came to mind. Not Trooper Walsh, but Dennis, smiling at her over his coffee cup and downing his breakfast biscuit in two bites. The memory sobered her. Sure, he was a nice-looking guy, and no doubt she was attracted to him, but did she think of him as husband material?

Gulping back a fresh onslaught of tears, she admitted to herself that she did. But it didn’t matter. He would think her a complete idiot when she confessed her mistake about Kathy and Richard. Her snooping had managed to spoil not only two friendships, but a potential romance, as well.

Well, her snooping days were over. She was hanging up her recorder. From now on, she would do as God wanted and love people instead of looking for suspicious motives in everyone she met.

First she had to do as she promised Kathy. She had to call Dennis.

Linus leaped away when she released him, running to his hiding place under the bed and therefore removing himself from further use as a confidant and Kleenex. Jackie fished Dennis’s card out of her purse.

He answered on the second ring. “Walsh.”

“Uh, hi. This is Jackie Hoffner.”

“Hey, Jackie. I was just thinking about you.”

A delicious warmth lightened her spirits when she heard the note of pleasure in his voice. He was thinking about her. But he wouldn’t be happy when she told him why she’d called.

“Uh, listen, I need to tell you something, but you have to make a promise first.”

“What’s the promise?” He sounded curious.

“You have to promise you won’t act on this information until tonight at least. This person is terrified you’ll come to her work, and it will get her in major trouble.”

“Well, as an officer, I can’t promise that, but we do have a pretty busy afternoon scheduled already.”

“Then, first of all, I have to tell you that I was wrong about something yesterday.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Kathy Dorsey is not having an affair with Richard Watson.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said, sounding unconvinced. “We talked to her this morning, and she was definitely hiding—”

“I know what she was hiding,” Jackie interrupted. “That’s the information I’m going to tell you.”

She relayed her conversation with Kathy, ending with Richard’s comment about Mrs. Farmer’s accusations dying with her.

Dennis gave a low whistle. “That’s a pretty incriminating statement. Are you sure about this?”

Jackie thought of Kathy’s face. “Yeah, I am.”

“So why didn’t she tell us about Richard this morning?”

“Because your buddy—” Jackie nearly spit the word “—scared her to death. And besides, she’s a single mother and can’t afford to lose her job, but if Richard finds out she talked to the police, that’s exactly what will happen.”

“If Conner scared her to death,” Dennis said, “it’s because I told him she was having an affair and had a motive for killing Mrs. Farmer.”

Jackie flushed with guilt. So she had made both of them look stupid in front of Detective Conner. “Yeah, all right. I already said I was wrong about that.”

“Well, listen, I need to go. I’ve got to pick up Conner for our next interview. Thanks for the information. And I won’t say a word about it until this evening.”

Curiosity burned, and Jackie wanted to ask who they were questioning. But she stopped herself. Her investigating days were over.

“Good luck,” she said. “Talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

After she replaced the phone in its cradle, she stared at it, feeling suddenly lighter. He hadn’t sounded all that upset. Maybe she hadn’t ruined her chances with him after all.

Dennis parked the cruiser in a visitor slot close to the bank’s entrance. The building, an older two-story stone structure, faced Main Street, but the back entrance was more frequently used since it opened onto the parking lot.

Conner got out of the car, and Dennis fell into step beside him as they walked up the sidewalk. The egotistical detective exuded confidence, Dennis had to give him that. He walked with a steady step, his head held high, eyes constantly sweeping his surroundings. Nothing got past the guy.

Dennis followed Conner into the bank. Directly in front of them stood a high counter with stacks of blank deposit slips. To their right, four teller windows separated the lobby from the drive-up window. Only two of the windows were occupied. Dennis saw Kathy Dorsey’s face go snow-white when she caught sight of them. He tried to reassure her with his smile, but she turned quickly away. Conner ignored her.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the detective crossed the lobby to the first of three desks along the left wall. He smiled down at the woman sitting there.

“We’re here to see Richard Watson.”

The woman’s eyes slid to Dennis and back to Conner. “Is he expecting you?”

“No, he isn’t. We took a chance that he would have some time to talk with us.”

“Just a minute and I’ll see if he’s free.”

She made a call, hung up the phone and smiled at the detective. “Go right up. He’s on the second floor.”

They took the elevator, and when the doors opened, a smiling woman in a white blouse and blue skirt stood waiting. “Hello, I’m Mr. Watson’s assistant. Come this way, please.”

She led them down a hallway and past a set of cubicles, ending at a row of offices that lined the front of the building. The nameplate on the second office said
Richard Watson, Vice President of Investments.

Inside, Richard sat in a high-backed chair, his desk empty except for a neat stack of papers on one corner and a month-at-a-glance calendar in the center. A matching credenza against the back wall held a computer and several pictures of an attractive woman, presumably Mrs. Watson. In front of the desk were two comfortable-looking visitor chairs.

Richard Watson looked every bit the part of a bank vice president. A silk tie complemented his expensive suit. When he came around the desk to shake their hands, the shine on his black shoes spoke of one who appreciated good clothing and took care of it. He might have just stepped off the cover of
GQ
.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Richard said. “We haven’t officially met, but I recognize you from church last Sunday. Have a seat. Louise, would you close the door, please?”

Conner sat in one of the chairs facing the desk, and Dennis took the other. He pulled a small notebook and pen out of his pocket, ready to record any pertinent information the interview revealed.

“Now, what can I do for you?”

Conner sat with his elbows resting on the arms of the chair, his fingers steepled before him. “We’re investigating the murder of Mrs. Alice Farmer.”

Richard shook his head, his lips drawn into a sad frown. “The news has rocked our church, I can tell you. It’s hard to believe anyone would harm her.”

The sympathetic smile—the one that said
I’m your friend, you can tell me everything
—appeared on Conner’s face. “We actually received a tip that we need to check out with you.”

“Me?” Richard’s eyebrows rose.

“Yes. You see, we’ve been made aware of a possible, shall we say, extramarital relationship that could have a bearing on this case.”

Dennis watched closely. The surprise that leaped into the man’s face could not be faked. Jackie must be right about the affair.

“You must be joking. Me? Having an affair?” He sat back in his chair and gave a low laugh. “That is ridiculous.”

Conner spread his hands. “Nevertheless, we do need to follow up on every lead. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course. But tell me, who am I supposed to be having an affair with?”

Conner’s expression did not change, but Dennis felt his intensity increase as he focused on Richard’s face. “A member of your church and an employee here at the bank. Mrs. Kathy Dorsey.”

Richard threw his head back against the high backrest and laughed out loud. “You’ve got to be kidding! Where in the world did you hear that?”

Conner’s smile tightened. “From someone who saw you going into her house Wednesday night.”

At that, Richard sobered. He leaned forward and looked Conner directly in the eye. Dennis watched for any sign of dishonesty, any hint of guilt. Maybe he wasn’t having an affair, but if he was stealing from the bank, surely something would show in his face.

“Kathy is having some trouble here at the office. She’s been put on probation for mistakes at her window. I know she is upset about it. As the sole supporter of her two boys, she can’t afford to lose her job.” He took a breath, and then continued. “I did go by her house, to let her know I am willing to help any way I can. I intended to talk to her at church that night, but was tied up here at the bank and didn’t make the Wednesday night Bible study. I was there not more than fifteen minutes.” His lips twitched. “Hardly time for an extramarital fling, especially with her boys running around.”

Richard swiveled his chair and picked up a picture from the credenza. He held it toward Conner and Dennis. “Do you see this woman? She is the sweetest, most loving wife a man could ever have. I would never do anything to hurt her.”

Dennis shifted in the comfortable chair. Now would have been the perfect time to bring up Richard’s comment about Mrs. Farmer’s accusations dying with her. Conner would be irritated when Dennis told him later. They’d have to pay Richard another visit.

Conner’s fingers tapped against one another. “Did you like the victim, Mr. Watson?”