At the moment, no visitors were in sight. Mrs. Murphy crossed the floor in two steps, her hands held toward Jackie.
“My dear, how awful for you.” She grabbed each of Jackie’s shoulders in a firm grip. “I just can’t imagine how you must feel.”
Inwardly, Jackie winced. But she forced herself to bestow a calm smile on Mrs. Murphy before delivering her rehearsed response.
“It’s terrible,” she agreed. “I’ve hardly slept a wink since the police told me how poor Mrs. Farmer died. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to hurt an old lady like her.”
Mrs. Murphy leaned forward to speak in a low voice. “Well, you know, she wasn’t very well liked in this town.” She cast a quick glance around the empty narthex. “Or even in this church, truth be told.”
Aha! My very first conversation about the case, and I’ve already hit pay dirt!
“Really? But why not? I thought she’d been a member here her whole life.”
“That’s the thing. She knew practically everything about everybody. And she didn’t mind making use of any tidbit of information that came her way, either.”
Mr. Murphy stepped up beside them and laid a hand on his wife’s arm. A look passed between them before he turned a friendly smile on Jackie.
“You’d better get on in there and find a seat. The service will start in a minute or two.”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
As Jackie turned toward the open sanctuary doors, she congratulated herself. She hadn’t been here two minutes and already she had discovered a valuable source of information. Before the day was over, she intended to get Mrs. Murphy in a corner and question her further.
From the front of the sanctuary, Pastor Palmer said, “Let’s bow together in prayer.”
Startled, Jackie glanced at her watch. He had, indeed, preached for his usual forty minutes, but she couldn’t remember a thing he’d said. Her mind had been too busy planning her questions for Mrs. Murphy and any other lady who seemed willing to chat about Mrs. Farmer. She bowed her head and whispered an apology to the Lord for ignoring the sermon, ending as Pastor Palmer said, “Amen.”
After four verses of “Beneath the Cross of Jesus,” the congregation slapped their hymnals shut. Jackie gave her full attention to her pastor, who stood holding his Bible and letting his gaze sweep the congregation.
“If you’re on the men’s softball team, Phil has copies of the game schedule and will be in the narthex handing them out, so be sure to see him. Also, don’t forget that we’re starting a new Bible study this Wednesday night, so please come out and join us.”
He paused, and the smile melted from his face. Jackie clenched her fists. Was he going to mention Mrs. Farmer?
“As you all know, a long-time member of our congregation, Alice Farmer, passed away on Tuesday.”
Blood rose slowly to heat her face. Was it her imagination, or had the heads of half the congregation swivelled toward her? She kept her eyes forward, focused on Pastor Palmer.
“Her passing is especially disturbing because it appears as though someone tampered with some food she took home from our church picnic last Sunday. Because of that, I’ve been asked to request that anyone who took leftovers and experienced any sort of stomach upset this week contact Detective Conner of the Kentucky State Police. Detective Conner is here this morning and will be in the back of the sanctuary if you’d like to talk to him.”
Jackie twisted to look behind her. Here? Detective Conner was here, in her own church? He must have come in after the service started, because she would have seen him if he’d been there when she arrived. Sure enough, her eyes were drawn immediately to the unfamiliar sight of a uniformed figure on the back pew. Trooper Walsh. Perhaps drawn by her movement, he looked straight at her and, with a slight shrug, smiled. Her stomach experienced that same tingling sensation it had the day she met him. Flushing, she looked away, to his left. Beside him sat Detective Conner, wearing the same ugly tie he had worn when he came to her apartment. Her face went cold at the hard stare he leveled on her.
She turned her back on him, swallowing hard. The nerve of that man, coming to her church! How dare he follow her around like this! Stalking, that’s what it was. Police weren’t allowed to stalk people, were they?
Jackie filled her lungs with a calming breath. On second thought, maybe his presence was good. She needed to tell him of her plans to clear her name by finding the murderer. Maybe they’d even share clues with her, though she doubted it. She’d seen enough television to know that was unlikely.
Pastor Palmer’s voice reclaimed her attention. “…hip surgery, and also Mr. Lewis as he recovers from a broken wrist. And now…” He raised his hand toward the congregation and gave the benediction.
The first person out of her pew, Jackie beelined across the sanctuary toward the place where Jean Murphy stood chatting with Ellen Clarke. As the center aisle filled, Jackie slipped into the pew behind the pair and waited quietly for their conversation to end. When Mrs. Clarke turned away, Mrs. Murphy, wearing an expression of polite inquiry, shifted her focus to Jackie.
Jackie cleared her throat. “Um, Mrs. Murphy, I’ve been thinking about what you said this morning. You know, about people not liking Mrs. Farmer.”
Mrs. Murphy glanced quickly toward the end of the pew, where her husband stood talking to two men. “I really shouldn’t have said that. Bob says I talk too much, and I’m sure he’s right. I don’t want to gossip, you know.”
“Of course not.” Jackie gave her a reassuring smile. “But in this case, with Mrs. Farmer dead and all, any information might be helpful in finding the person responsible. Or,” Jackie went on quickly when Mrs. Murphy’s brow creased with alarm, “in clearing the members of our church of suspicion. I’m sure the police being here this morning means they think someone here knows something.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Murphy paled as her eyes flew toward the back of the sanctuary. “I don’t want to be questioned by the police!”
“Trust me,” Jackie assured her drily, “you don’t. But if you know anything, perhaps you could tell me and if I think it’s important, I’ll pass it along as an anonymous tip.”
“Well…” The woman’s face took on a cautious expression, and she lowered her voice. “I don’t want to cast suspicion on anyone. But it’s no secret that Alice was known for having a…well, a rather judgmental attitude. She was quick to find fault, and she held a grudge.”
“Against who?”
“Practically everyone. With my own ears I’ve heard her criticize everything from the placement of the flowers on the altar to the selection of hymns for the order of service. She even found fault with Pastor Palmer’s audition sermon because he preached on the subject of God’s love instead of calling people to repentance.” Warming to her topic, the woman leaned close, giving Jackie a whiff of stale coffee breath. “She was the single dissenting vote in offering him the job. I’ve even heard her talking about getting up a petition to have him removed. Of course, everyone loves Pastor Palmer, so that would have failed. But that wasn’t always the case.”
Her mouth snapped shut abruptly. Jackie looked into her rounded eyes and prompted, “She was successful sometimes?”
Mrs. Murphy’s gaze dropped. “You really should talk to Esther Hodges if you want to know about that. Anything else I can tell you would just be gossip, since I don’t know firsthand.”
This was exactly the kind of information Jackie had hoped to discover. If she could keep Mrs. Murphy talking she was sure to uncover some more interesting tidbits. But at that moment Mr. Murphy turned away from the cluster of men at the end of the pew and glanced toward his wife, who threw a guilty look in his direction. Jackie flashed him her best smile and spoke in a low voice.
“Thanks, Mrs. Murphy. And don’t worry. I won’t say a word to anyone about our conversation.”
Mrs. Murphy gave her a grateful smile before stooping to collect her raincoat and purse. Jackie slipped out of the pew and headed toward the re
ar of the sanctuary.
Detective Conner and Trooper Walsh stood alone like lepers, the members of Heritage Community Church making a wide path around them. One glance into Officer Walsh’s face told Jackie he felt conspicuous standing there in his uniform beside the smiling detective. The younger man managed to avoid looking directly into anyone’s face. But as Jackie approached, he locked eyes with her for an instant. Those high cheekbones and long, curling lashes drew attention to hidden depths in his eyes. She noticed a tiny fresh cut along his right jaw where he had nicked himself shaving.
She had to stop feeling like a schoolgirl every time she looked at him. In church, no less! She turned to Detective Conner, her chin high.
“Miss Hoffner.” His head dipped forward in a polite greeting while his eyes remained fixed on her face.
“Detective Conner. Trooper Walsh.” Jackie nodded to each of them. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“And why is that, Miss Hoffner?”
“Because it saves me the trouble of calling you tomorrow. Have you gotten any leads on the case?”
Trooper Walsh opened his mouth to answer, but Detective Conner shook his head. “No one has spoken to us besides Pastor and Mrs. Palmer. Were you going to give me a lead tomorrow?”
“Not a lead. Just some information.” She squared her shoulders. “I wanted to let you know that I’m on the case.”
“On the case?” The detective’s eyebrows arched. Next to him, Trooper Walsh hid a quick smile.
Jackie nodded. “I’m taking the week off work to search for clues, and I wanted to tell you I’ll pass along any helpful information I find. I’m hoping you’ll do the same for me.”
“Miss Hoffner, please don’t do that. I assure you, we are trained in investigations of this kind, and we don’t need help from civilians.”
“But I can get information you can’t,” Jackie argued. “I’m a member of this church. I’m a woman. I’m—”
“Don’t,” he repeated with force. “We’re dealing with someone who has committed murder. We don’t know his or her mental state, but the situation could be dangerous. Just leave things to us.”
“But—”
He held up a hand, and Jackie fell silent. Frustrated, she turned to Trooper Walsh, who shrugged. Couldn’t they see how important it was to her to clear her name? It would be so much easier if she could work with the police. They had experts, crime labs, all sorts of things she couldn’t access. Of course, she knew the police hated having civilians involved in their cases, but she couldn’t stand by and do nothing. She would follow her plan, with or without their help.
Watching her face, Detective Conner’s eyes narrowed. “You’re going to ignore me, aren’t you?”
In answer, Jackie gave him the sweetest smile she could manage.
As their feet crunched across the gravel parking lot, Dennis cast a sidelong glance at Conner. The detective’s jaw bulged from the force of his clenched teeth. Dennis knew the reason without being told.
“She has a point, you know.”
“And what might that be?”
“Women talk to other women.” Dennis lifted a shoulder. “They sure didn’t talk to us today.”
It was true. The entire congregation had ignored them, except for Jackie and the Palmers. If Dennis hadn’t seen the members greeting one another, he would have assumed Heritage Community Church was the most unfriendly church in town. But a uniform and a badge had apparently frozen some of their tongues to the roofs of their mouths. He might have gotten a different reception as a real visitor instead of an investigating police officer.
Actually, for a while he had almost forgot he was on duty. Pastor Palmer preached a good message in a compelling style. This place reminded him of his own church in Lexington, where he still attended with his mom and dad every Sunday he didn’t have to work. He’d never really considered finding a place to worship here in Versailles, because the fifteen-minute drive to Lexington was an easy one. But Heritage Community Church might just change his mind.
Except, he reminded himself, someone there was probably a murderer.
“We can’t afford to have that girl messing around in our case, Walsh.” Conner shook his head. “I’ve seen it before. She’s NBT.”
Dennis cocked his head. “NBT?”
Conner’s lips twisted. “Nothing But Trouble.”
SIX
“Look what I got.” Standing in the doorway of the parsonage on Monday morning, Jackie reached into her purse and extracted a silver box the size of her palm. She held it out for Margaret’s inspection. “What is it?”
“It’s a digital voice recorder. I went to the mall in Lexington yesterday and bought it. Look how small it is. It’ll fit into my purse and no one will even know it’s there.”
Margaret shook her head. “Don’t you think it’s impolite to record conversations? Is it even legal?”
Jackie had spent a long time considering those questions yesterday as she stood in the aisle of the department store, examining the display of recorders. She didn’t want to do anything wrong, but she was afraid people would clam up the minute she started to scribble on a pad of paper, the way Walsh had done in her apartment. It would inhibit their conversations. And if she tried to make notes after she left, she was sure to miss some important clues.
“They do it all the time on TV. And don’t worry, I’ll be discreet,” she assured Margaret.
Heaving a resigned sigh, Margaret stepped back and gestured for her to come inside the house. “Go on into the kitchen. Earl’s just finishing his breakfast.”
Jackie walked through the living room, fiddling with the device. “I got this one because it has an external microphone. The recorder can be hidden in my purse, but the mic clips onto the strap. See?”
She plugged a thin cord into the recorder and demonstrated. The microphone at the end was practically unnoticeable, if you didn’t look too closely.
“I can’t imagine what you think you’re going to discover talking to old people in a nursing home.”
They arrived in the kitchen to find Pastor Palmer sitting at a round breakfast table, sipping coffee. He looked up from his newspaper, eyeing Jackie’s recorder with interest as she slipped into an empty chair.
“Actually,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching, “you never know what Mr. Sheppard might come out with. He’s a colorful old guy at times.”
Margaret held the coffeepot toward Jackie, a question on her face. Jackie shook her head. She didn’t want to be rude, but she hoped Margaret didn’t intend to hang around the house too much longer. The sooner they got started, the sooner they would discover something to help her identify the killer.
To her relief, Pastor Palmer refused a refill and began folding his newspaper. Margaret turned the coffee warmer off and leaned against the kitchen counter. She eyed Jackie with obvious hesitation. “Just remember one thing, please. We’re visiting church members, not interrogating criminals.”
Jackie bit back a sharp response. Did Margaret think her completely incapable of finesse? Did she expect her to go in there with a bright spotlight and a rubber hose to bully a bunch of old people into a confession?
She was trying to come up with an appropriate response when Pastor Palmer said, “You never know. They might be one and the same.”
“Oh, Earl!” Margaret’s hand rose to her throat. “Do you really think someone in our church is a murderer?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I suppose it’s possible. We’ve known these people less than a year.”
“Well, I don’t believe it.”
Jackie leaned forward, her elbows planted on the table. “Maybe it isn’t anyone in our church. I hope not. But Mrs. Farmer has been a member for a long time. Those people know her better than anyone, and someone is bound to know something that will help us identify her killer.”
Uncertainty tinged Margaret’s features, but she gave a single nod. “I suppose you’re right. Let me get my things and we’ll leav
e.”
Pastor Palmer stood and took his coffee mug to the sink. Jackie left the table and trailed after Margaret down a short hallway and into an office.
“Your boss was okay with you taking off work?” Margaret asked.
Jackie grimaced. “Well, he wasn’t thrilled, but I convinced him. I had to promise to come in if they run into problems later in the week.”
Actually, her boss had told her she was crazy for wanting to mess around in a murder investigation and she should get a life. But she didn’t see any reason to tell that to Margaret.
“How many people will we see today?”
“Four.” Margaret slid open a desk drawer. “I usually only have three, but since Mrs. Sawyer’s still recovering from surgery I’ve been stopping by her house, too.”
She retrieved a handful of church bulletins, then opened another drawer and removed a stack of cassette tapes. A pink tote came out of a third drawer, and she stuffed everything into it. She handed the tote to Jackie and motioned for her to follow as she left the room. Back in the kitchen, she added two Baggies full of cookies.
“I like to take a little something to Mrs. Harrod and Mr. Sheppard,” she said. “The dining room there at the nursing home is nice enough, but I think they appreciate having a little snack in their own rooms.”
Jackie peeked into the tote. The cookies looked like oatmeal, or maybe peanut butter. Two of her favorites.
Margaret picked up a worn Bible from the counter. “I’m ready.”
Finally! Tote bag in one hand, Jackie slung her purse across her shoulder as Pastor Palmer bestowed a kiss on Margaret’s cheek. “Tell them all I said hello and I’ll be along later in the week.”
During the trip across town, Jackie fiddled with her recorder. Margaret had announced that they would visit Mrs. Sawyer’s house first, since it was the farthest away, and work their way back to the parsonage. A couple of times Jackie noticed her opening her mouth to say something, her forehead creased with lines, but then closing it again. She was probably concerned that too many questions might upset the old people, but she had nothing to be concerned about. Talking to old people was one of the things Jackie did best.
Murder by Mushroom Page 5