Murder by Mushroom

by Virginia Smith

  They paused on Mrs. Sawyer’s front porch while Jackie turned on her little device. When everything was ready, she nodded toward Margaret, who rang the bell.

  Mrs. Sawyer greeted them, moving slowly with the aid of a walker. Margaret hugged the older woman gently. She looked so frail Jackie worried a breeze might overbalance her. She had to be at least eighty, but until her hip surgery a few weeks ago, Jackie had seen her often at church, both on Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights. She was a member of the Prime Timer Sunday school class, the one Mrs. Farmer had attended.

  “It’s nice to see you up and around,” Margaret exclaimed as they followed her into the tiny living room. “You look stronger than last week.”

  “I hate this thing,” Mrs. Sawyer confided, “but at least I’m able to walk on my own.” She lowered her voice. “My daughter was glad to go back to work. I think I was getting on her nerves.”

  “Oh, I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “Well, she was getting on my nerves sure enough.” The old lady smiled. “It’s good to be able to go to the restroom by myself.”

  Margaret laughed. “I’m sure it is. You know Jackie Hoffner, don’t you?”

  The older lady turned her wrinkled smile on Jackie. “Of course I do. How nice to see you. Young people don’t visit us old folks much these days.”

  Jackie returned the smile with a wide one of her own and took the extended hand gently. “We’ve missed you at church, Mrs. Sawyer.”

  The older woman gestured for them to sit on the couch and then dropped into a Queen Anne wing chair with obvious relief. “I would offer you coffee, but you’d have to make it yourself. Marsha leaves my lunch on a plate in the refrigerator, and getting it to the table is the extent of my ability with this thing. But I’m learning!”

  “That isn’t necessary,” Margaret assured her.

  The old lady looked at Jackie with a shrewd stare. “I hear you’ve been having some excitement lately.”

  Settled on the couch, Jackie tried not to grimace. “What do you mean?”

  “I heard somebody murdered Alice,” Mrs. Sawyer said. “Someone dumped poison in her drinking water, they say, and you found her dead body.”

  Obviously the grapevine reaching into Mrs. Sawyer’s home operated on a several-day delay, and without much accuracy. She hadn’t heard about Pastor Palmer’s announcement yesterday morning.

  “Actually,” said Margaret, “her water wasn’t poisoned, her food was.”

  “Really?” Mrs. Sawyer’s eyes widened, and Jackie detected a twinkle of excitement. Yes, just like Aunt Betty’s friends.

  “And when I got to her house she was still alive,” Jackie added. If the gossip was going to get spread around, at least it should be correct.

  “My goodness, how frightening. One of our own, poisoned.”

  The old lady shifted in her chair and glanced toward the telephone. She’d be on the phone the moment they left, spreading the news. If there was anyone who hadn’t yet heard, that is.

  Jackie leaned forward on the couch. “Did you know Mrs. Farmer long?”

  “Oh, yes, dear. For nigh on thirty years, ever since my husband and I moved to Versailles when he retired, God rest his soul.”

  “Do you know anyone who might want to harm her?”

  Margaret shot her a look. What? Mrs. Sawyer didn’t seem offended by the direct question. In fact, she seemed eager to talk. She leaned against the upholstered back of her chair, her lips pursed for a moment as she thought.

  “I expect so. Alice wasn’t exactly a friendly person. We all loved her, of course, because she was one of our own, but she had sharp eyes. She knew things about a lot of people in that church. The stories she used to tell!”

  “Such as?”

  This was just the sort of thing Jackie had hoped to hear. She picked up her purse and set it in her lap, the little black microphone pointed toward Mrs. Sawyer.

  The old lady tapped her finger against the molded leg of her walker. “Why, I can’t think of a single one at the moment!”

  Jackie hated to ask leading questions, but maybe she could discover a little more information about the incident Mrs. Murphy had alluded to yesterday at church. “Did you happen to hear anything about, uh, difficulties between Mrs. Hodges and Mrs. Farmer?”

  Beside her on the couch, Margaret’s back stiffened. Jackie glanced her way, surprised to see a spot of color high on each cheek. Her expression was unreadable. Mrs. Sawyer didn’t seem to notice.

  “Of course!” The old lady brightened. “That’s a perfect example. Esther’s son Joshua was a wild one. Drugs, you know. Trouble with the police, too. Oh, the trials Esther had with that boy! But he straightened himself up, and when he got out of high school he went to Bible college somewhere up north. Then he got a job as a youth pastor at a big church in Ohio.” Her attention shifted toward Margaret and then back to Jackie. “Alice didn’t believe someone with a past like his should be leading youth, so she wrote a letter to the board of elders at his new church. They fired him.”

  Jackie gasped. What a terrible thing to do to someone. Malicious, even. Had Mrs. Farmer never heard of forgiveness? Didn’t she think people could change?

  “Why would she do that?” Margaret asked.

  Mrs. Sawyer gave a delicate shrug. “Alice had high standards. And that’s one reason Nick Carlson is probably resting easy about his promotion out at the factory since she’s gone.”

  A new name! Jackie shifted the purse to the edge of her knees, as close to Mrs. Sawyer as she could get it without shoving it under the older lady’s nose. “What do you mean?”

  Mrs. Sawyer included both of them in her smile. “Well, it’s no secret Alice disapproved of his speedy marriage to Sharon, and especially when the baby was born just a few months later.”

  Another person with a motive. This was exactly the sort of information the police would take weeks to discover. And she had gotten it her first day on the case!

  Jackie opened her mouth to ask for more details, but Margaret stood abruptly. “Look at the time! I’m afraid we need to leave.”

  “So soon?” Mrs. Sawyer asked, surprised. “You’ve barely arrived.”

  “Yes, Margaret,” Jackie agreed, looking sideways up at her. “We’ve barely arrived.”

  Margaret had evidently had enough. “We have three more visits this morning, and I’m afraid I have plans for the afternoon.”

  A lame excuse, if Jackie had ever heard one. But the look on Margaret’s face kept her from asking anymore questions. She sat quietly as Margaret gave Mrs. Sawyer a cassette tape of last week’s sermon and a bulletin and then led them in a quick prayer.

  They saw themselves to the door, leaving Mrs. Sawyer sitting comfortably in her Queen Anne chair. As Jackie pulled it closed behind them, she saw Mrs. Sawyer reach for the telephone.

  “What was that all about?” she demanded, trailing after Margaret toward the car. “Why did we leave in such a hurry?’

  Margaret whirled on her. “What on earth made you ask about Esther Hodges?”

  “Something I overheard at church yesterday. And my question paid off.”

  Margaret’s lips pressed into a hard line. She stalked to the car and jerked the door open. Jackie slid into the passenger seat as Margaret slammed her door shut. Harder than necessary. Jackie shut her own door as quietly as possible. What had she done to make Margaret so angry?

  Margaret turned in the seat. “What do you mean by that—that your question paid off?”

  Jackie shifted in the seat and looked out the window. Anywhere but at the outrage on Margaret’s face. “I’m assembling a list of possible suspects, people with a motive for killing Mrs. Farmer. Obviously, I’ve just found the first two.”

  Margaret gasped. “Esther Hodges is a good, Christian woman! She wouldn’t hurt a flea!”

  Jackie shrugged and kept her tone apologetic. “Maybe she is. But Mrs. Farmer hurt her child. Revenge is a pretty strong motive.”

  “That is ridiculo
us.” Margaret twisted the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life.

  Jackie held her tongue as the car backed out of the driveway and pulled onto the street. Margaret’s hands gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white.

  “Is that the kind of conversation you intend to have every time? Because if so, I don’t think I want to go with you anymore. That wasn’t simply a matter of asking questions. That was nothing but gossip.”

  Jackie looked toward her, surprised at the accusing tone. “I wasn’t gossiping. We have to ask about people who have a grudge against Mrs. Farmer. How else will we find the murderer?”

  Margaret took a few deep breaths, an obvious attempt to calm down. “Jackie, you might not have intended to gossip, but Mrs. Sawyer did. Esther is my friend, and though I don’t know Nick and Sharon Carlson, Nick’s father, Vince, is our choir director and a friend of Earl’s. That conversation left me feeling sullied and low.”

  The look Jackie had seen on Mrs. Sawyer’s face as she related the story of Mrs. Hodges’s son certainly proved Margaret’s point. No doubt the old woman was on the phone right now, passing along the information she’d gotten from their visit.

  Still, without a doubt Mrs. Sawyer had already been gossiping before their arrival. If anything, Jackie and Margaret had just set the record straight. At least now the gossip would be true. A look at Margaret’s tight lips told Jackie now was not a good time to argue that point.

  “Listen, Margaret, I don’t want to gossip, I really don’t. But you can’t get upset every time I question someone. I have to talk to people if I want to get to the bottom of this.”

  Margaret took her eyes off the road to give her a quick look. “Why, Jackie? Why is it so important to you to find the murderer?”

  “I don’t want my name coming up every time Mrs. Farmer is mentioned. And it will, Margaret. You know it will.”

  That was true. But it wasn’t the whole truth. Jackie turned away, staring at the line of trees they passed and admitted the truth to herself. Because I want to prove I can do something right. I want people to like me. It was the answer she couldn’t give to Margaret. To anyone. Except maybe Linus.

  Margaret remained quiet a long time. Finally she sighed. “You’re making way too much out of this, Jackie. I’d prefer to leave this interrogation business to the police. But if you’re determined to continue, I guess you need me along to temper the conversations.”

  Normally, Jackie would have flared with indignation at a statement like that. She could certainly handle a conversation all by herself, for cryin’ out loud! No one needed to “temper” anything for her. But she didn’t want Margaret mad at her.

  So she simply said, “Thanks, Margaret. I appreciate your help.”

  “Besides,” Margaret went on, “the Bible says older women should teach younger women. Maybe this is an opportunity the Lord is giving me to teach you something. Here.” She picked up the Bible that lay on the seat between them and thrust it into Jackie’s hands. “Before we get to the nursing home, I want you to read Proverbs chapter eleven.”

  Jackie obeyed. And tried not to fume when she got to verses twelve and thirteen.

  On the den sofa, Margaret snuggled into the curve of Earl’s shoulder. She loved this time every evening, when the supper dishes were put away and the nightly news programs had ended. Strands of Tchaikovsky washed over her, clearing her mind and easing away the day’s tension.

  “How did the visitations go?” Earl asked.

  “Terrible.”

  She told him about the visit to Mrs. Sawyer and about Jackie’s list of “suspects.”

  Earl shook his head. “She’s quite a character, isn’t she? I’ll bet she causes quite a stir at lunch tomorrow.”

  Margaret avoided Earl’s eyes. “After today, I didn’t have the nerve to invite her to lunch. These lunch dates are one of the highlights of my week, and I don’t want tomorrow’s ruined by uncomfortable questions.” She flushed with guilt at her selfish desire to exclude Jackie from a perfect opportunity to talk with several of the church ladies.

  Earl stretched his legs out in front of him and pulled her closer. Margaret closed her eyes, listening to the music and breathing in the faint scent of his aftershave. She supposed she should invite Jackie to her weekly ladies’ luncheon. The girl would jump at the chance, because Esther would be there. But could she be trusted to handle the situation tactfully?

  “Did she add anyone else to her list after the other visits?” Earl asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  “No. Mrs. Snedegar was entertaining her neighbor, so we didn’t stay long. And Mrs. Harrod was more interested in my cookies than in Jackie’s questions.”

  “And Mr. Sheppard?” He grinned. “Did he have any interesting stories for his pretty young visitor?”

  “He behaved like a gentleman.” Margaret sighed and plucked at a loose thread on the sofa cushion. “Do you think I should invite Jackie to lunch with the ladies?”

  Earl shrugged. “Whatever you think. I’m sure you’ll make the right decision.”

  She already knew what that decision would be. She wouldn’t enjoy herself if she didn’t extend the invitation. She’d be thinking the whole time of Jackie sitting home alone, and how hurt her feelings would be when she found out she had been excluded.

  But not tonight. She’d call her young friend in the morning. Tonight she just wanted to relax and forget all about gossip and murder investigations.

  She pressed her face into Earl’s shoulder and grumbled, “I hate making the right decision.”

  SEVEN

  Yawning, Jackie poured coffee into a mug while Linus twined around her legs, verbalizing his impatience for breakfast. Day two of her vacation. Yesterday had not been as productive as she’d hoped after the informative talk with Mrs. Sawyer. The old people in the nursing home hadn’t delivered any new leads on the murder case. Still, she knew they’d enjoyed her visit. Mrs. Harrod kept patting her arm while she munched on Margaret’s cookies, and Mr. Snedegar showed her a bunch of pictures from his war days.

  Hopefully today would prove more profitable. She planned to talk with her two main suspects, Sharon Carlson and Esther Hodges. Sharon was easy. She had been out when Jackie called the Carlson residence last night, but a few subtle questions asked of her teenage daughter, Samantha, had revealed Sharon’s place of employment. Jackie planned to drop by her office this morning. With the experience of a few visits under her belt, she didn’t think she’d have any problems leading into a conversation about Mrs. Farmer.

  Talking to Mrs. Hodges would be a little more difficult to arrange. Margaret was so protective of her.

  The shrill ring of the telephone blared into the apartment’s silence. Jackie grabbed the receiver and propped it on her shoulder, leaving her hands free to open a can of cat food.

  “Hello?”

  “Jackie? It’s Margaret.”

  “Hey, I was going to call you in a bit. Do you want to go by Sharon Carlson’s office with me this morning?”

  A pause on the other end. “Uh, no, I don’t think so. I’ve only met Sharon once, so I doubt my presence will help you, and if we’re both there it might look like we’re ganging up on her.”

  “Well, I’ve only met her once, too.” Linus’s yowling grew louder as she plopped the smelly mass of congealed whitefish into his bowl. “That time Samantha had a solo in the Easter pageant is the only time I’ve seen her at church. And I’ve never seen Samantha’s dad.”

  “He works third shift, so he sleeps during the day. That’s why Samantha comes to church with her grandfather.” Another pause. “Listen, Jackie, I called to invite you to lunch.”

  “Linus, back off!” The little fiend made walking impossible. She deposited his breakfast onto the floor mat beside his water bowl. “Sorry to yell in your ear, Margaret. Lunch sounds great. What time?”

  “Actually, it’s not at my house. Some of the ladies at church have gotten into the habit of meeting for lunch every Tuesday. We sta
rted back when Earl and I first came to HCC, and Esther decided it would be a good way for those of us who don’t work outside the home to get to know each other.”

  Jackie’s grip on the receiver tightened. “Esther Hodges?”

  “That’s right. And Laura Watson and Sylvia Graham and Julie McCoy. Sometimes others join us, but that’s who’ll be there today.”

  A perfect chance to question her number-one suspect! “Where and what time?”

  “We’re meeting at Shaker Village at eleven-thirty, but I’ll stop by and pick you up at eleven. Will that be okay?”

  “Perfect. I’ll have my recorder ready.”

  Margaret’s sigh sounded loud through the receiver. “Jackie, please don’t make this an uncomfortable lunch. These women have been nothing but kind to me since I arrived. They’re my friends.”

  And one of them might be a killer! But Jackie kept her thought to herself. Margaret probably wouldn’t appreciate hearing it.

  “I’ll be good,” she promised. “See you at eleven.”

  She disconnected the call and turned to Linus. “I’ve got two interrogations today. With luck, I’ll have this case solved by suppertime.”

  Unimpressed, Linus ignored her.

  Dennis pulled his cruiser into the parking lot of police headquarters promptly at seven forty-five. Yesterday, he’d arrived a few minutes past eight and received a lecture from Conner on the necessity of developing good investigative habits. The detective considered punctuality right up near the top of the list. “Being late implies laziness, and there’s no room in the force for a lazy investigator.”

  Dennis endured the dressing-down silently, aware that a half-dozen pairs of eyes watched covertly from behind cluttered desks around the room. He had to remind himself he was lucky to be working with Conner, who reportedly changed partners more often than a teenage girl changed clothes. He was beginning to see why. Not many would willingly perform all the grunt work while the arrogant detective refused to dirty his hands.