Murder by Mushroom

by Virginia Smith

  “True.” Margaret’s pensive expression cleared. “She and her husband are both retired, so they might be at home.”

  Jackie slapped the directory closed. “Let’s give her a call.”

  “Sad news about Alice.” Audrey Coates shook her head. “You expect to hear about things like that on television, but right in our own church?”

  “It’s terrible,” Jackie agreed.

  She and Margaret sat on a tan sofa in Audrey’s living room. Her home bore evidence of years of happy living, with every surface covered by a cheerful array of knickknacks. Dust catchers, Aunt Betty used to call them.

  Audrey’s husband, Ron, had greeted them and then excused himself to the garage to perform an oil change on a neighbor’s car.

  “It has been quite a shock for everyone,” Margaret said.

  “And especially you, my dear.” Audrey cast a sympathetic glance toward Jackie. “How terrible to have your casserole used as a weapon.”

  Jackie swallowed a curt reply and smiled. “Which is why I’m doing everything I can to help the police catch the murderer.”

  “You are? My goodness.”

  Audrey’s expression became eager. Ah, here was a woman who wanted to talk. No need to tiptoe around the issue.

  “That’s what brings us here this morning.” Jackie leaned forward, arms on her legs. “We hoped you might be able to tell us if you’ve ever heard of anyone having a grudge against Mrs. Farmer.”

  “Oh, my dear, that could be just about anyone.” One corner of her lips twitched in a humorless grin. “Alice led a sad life, really. Known by a lot of people, but loved by few. She was her own worst enemy.”

  “Yes,” put in Margaret, “we’ve certainly discovered that, poor woman.”

  “I suppose you’ve heard about Joshua Hodges, then?” Both Jackie and Margaret nodded, and Audrey shook her head slowly. “A sad thing, that was. Something like that could have damaged the boy’s career for the rest of his life. And it was just spite on Alice’s part.”

  “We heard there have been other spiteful things Mrs. Farmer did.” Jackie shot a quick glance at Margaret. “We don’t want to gossip, of course.”

  “Certainly not.” Audrey’s forehead creased. “But of course that’s what Alice did. She gossiped about everyone. Poor Vince Carlson, when his son first married—”

  “Yes,” Margaret said quickly. “We know about that, as well.”

  Audrey sat back, smiling. “My, my. You’ve already heard a lot. And poor Kathy Dorsey, too, I suppose?”

  Jackie straightened. A new name! Kathy Dorsey, a young woman not much older than Jackie, was a divorced single mother and a regular attendee at HCC. Beside her, Margaret drew herself up, as well.

  Audrey nodded. “I see you haven’t. Well, it really is a perfect example. Kathy is a teller at the bank where Alice did business, you know. A few months ago, it seems the poor girl made a mistake in counting change from a customer’s deposit. Bad luck must hover over her, because the customer was none other than Alice.”

  “Oh, dear.” Lines creased Margaret’s forehead.

  “Alice spoke quite sharply to her every time she saw her, even at church. I heard that myself. Poor Kathy scurried to get out of her way, you can believe that. Alice didn’t mind telling me why, when I asked why she was so hard on the girl. Told me she thought Kathy was unfit to hold any job, much less one at a respectable bank where Alice held stock. I’m surprised you two didn’t hear about that yourselves.”

  “People don’t really pass gossip along to the pastor’s wife too often,” Margaret said.

  “And nobody ever tells me anything,” Jackie put in. “I’m still the new girl, I guess.”

  A concerned expression came over Audrey’s features. “Please don’t think I’m accusing poor Kathy Dorsey of killing Alice. I’m sure she’s incapable of doing anything so terrible. A sweeter girl never walked the earth. I’m just giving you an example of Alice’s behavior. I’ll bet every person you ask could come up with a different one. That’s how she was.”

  “Yes, that’s what we’re finding out,” said Margaret.

  Jackie remained silent. Maybe Kathy Dorsey really was a sweet girl…or maybe her sweetness was a front for something ugly. Either way, Jackie intended to ask her a few questions about that bank deposit.

  TWELVE

  The sweet scent of honeysuckle tickled Jackie’s nostrils when she pulled into the church parking lot that evening. Big, overgrown bushes covered with pale yellow blossoms lined one side of the field where they’d held their picnic.

  Jackie shuddered. She did not want to think about that picnic!

  The parking lot held no more than a dozen cars. She was among the first to arrive. Wednesday nights didn’t typically draw a big crowd, except for the kids’ classes. Some parents liked to use Wednesdays at the church as a free babysitting opportunity. Judging by the amount of whooping and laughter that drifted into the sanctuary from the downstairs activities, Jackie didn’t think the kids minded.

  A red Chevy glided to a stop on the far side of hers. Jackie halted her progress across the parking lot. Providence was on her side tonight. Kathy Dorsey and her twins had arrived.

  Kathy turned to speak to her sons in the backseat, her voice carrying clearly through the open window. “Charlie, if you hit your brother at church tonight, there will be consequences.”

  Through the back window, Jackie glimpsed the four-year-old’s pensive expression as he considered his mother’s warning. “What consequences?”

  “A big one. No television all day tomorrow.”

  “All day? Aw, Mom.”

  Jamie raised his chin to smirk at his brother as the trunk popped open. Kathy got out of the car and headed toward the rear. Jackie didn’t know much about her beyond the obvious fact that she was a single mother of rambunctious twins and one of the reality-show group. She glanced at Jackie as she rounded the back of the car.

  “Oh, hi.” She lifted her nose and inhaled. “Mmm, doesn’t that honeysuckle smell wonderful?”

  “It sure does,” Jackie responded. “Do you need any help? Looks like you’ve got a load.”

  “That would be great. It’s my night to bring snacks.”

  Jackie took a bulging grocery sack in each hand as the boys tumbled out of the car and headed for the church at a gallop.

  “Don’t run inside the building,” Kathy shouted after them, then grinned at Jackie. “I don’t know why I bother. The dog listens better than they do.”

  Jackie had no experience whatsoever with kids or dogs, so she limited her response to a smile. Kathy took a gallon jug of fruit punch in each hand and closed the trunk. The two women followed the boys toward the church at a more leisurely pace.

  Though she had a bit of practice under her belt, Jackie still bumbled around with trying to turn the conversation to Mrs. Farmer. As she sifted through a few possible openings, dismissing each one as too obvious, Kathy took the situation out of her hands.

  “I didn’t get a chance to speak to you on Sunday, but I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about what happened.” She gave an embarrassed shrug. “You know, with your casserole.”

  “It wasn’t my casserole that killed her,” Jackie said, too quickly.

  “Oh, I know,” Kathy rushed to agree. “The boys and I ate some of it. It was really good.”

  Her ruffled feelings placated, Jackie nodded. “But I have had a terrible time. Especially being interrogated by the police.” She peered sideways into Kathy’s face. “Have you been questioned yet?”

  The girl started and gave her a quick look. Her light brown hair formed a widow’s peak in the center of her forehead, giving her round face a heart-shaped look that was more interesting than flattering. Especially with her eyes rounded like that.

  “No, of course not. Why would I be?”

  “Well, I figured someone would eventually mention that little problem you had with Mrs. Farmer.”

  Kathy’s face went pale. “I don’t know wh
at you’re talking about.”

  “Oh.” Jackie shrugged. “But I heard about it so it’s probably just a matter of time before the police hear it, too. I’m sure they’ll want to talk to you.”

  They arrived at the door, and Kathy stopped. She turned her back to the building and stood staring toward the empty field. Jackie watched, seeing her throat move convulsively as she swallowed. Was that fear on her face?

  She spoke without looking at Jackie. “We had a disagreement, that’s all. No big deal.”

  “I heard she went around telling people you shouldn’t be allowed to keep your job.”

  Kathy didn’t answer. Jackie’s conscience twinged. The girl really did look frightened. But did she look guilty? Jackie couldn’t decipher that stare and convulsive gulping. Whatever the reason, Kathy certainly knew something.

  “Hey, look, I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just saying if I heard that rumor, the police are going to hear it. And you know, I’m working with the police on this case.” Jackie paused. Not a lie, exactly. After all, Dennis wanted to hear any information she discovered, didn’t he? “So if you have anything to say, you might want to tell me. That way I can report that I’ve talked with you and it’s no big deal.”

  Another car pulled into the parking lot, and they both looked toward it. Margaret’s Buick. Kathy’s attention remained fixed on Margaret and Pastor Palmer as they got out and headed toward the church.

  “I made a mistake on her transaction. I corrected it before she even walked away from my window, but she harped on it for weeks.”

  “That’s all? She didn’t threaten to get you fired?”

  Kathy shook her head but continued to watch the approaching couple, her shoulders so tense they shook. Jackie felt a flash of sympathy. The girl looked really scared. But about what? If she was innocent, why wouldn’t she tell Jackie what had her so frightened?

  “Hey,” called Pastor Palmer as he and Margaret reached the concrete walkway, “you two look like you could use a hand.”

  He ran up the sidewalk to open the door, reaching for one of Jackie’s sacks. Margaret looked questioningly toward her, and Jackie shook her head. She’d talk to Margaret later.

  And Kathy Dorsey, too. That girl still had some explaining to do.

  “So what are you wearing tomorrow?”

  Someone tugged her shirt, and Jackie turned to find Margaret following closely as she exited the sanctuary. Pastor Palmer still stood up by the altar, talking with a group of lag-behinds.

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Probably jeans and a T-shirt.”

  Margaret’s horrified expression spoke volumes.

  “It’s not a date,” Jackie reminded her. “We’re meeting to talk about official business.”

  “There’s no reason it can’t be both official business and a date.”

  “If the guy wanted to ask me out on a date, surely he’d pick someplace besides McDonald’s.”

  Margaret dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “His intentions don’t matter at this point. What matters is that you make the most of the opportunity.” She gave Jackie a stern look. “You may not wear jeans. Don’t you have a nice spring skirt and blouse?”

  A mental review of her closet revealed nothing of the sort. She did have that black skirt she’d bought for the funeral. That looked good on her. But she’d worn it the morning Dennis and Detective Conner came to her apartment.

  She shook her head.

  “I know!” Margaret’s face brightened. “The outfit you wore to the picnic was very flattering. That pink blouse really set off your dark hair. And, Jackie…” Her focus swept upward. “Wear your hair down tomorrow. In front of your ears.”

  Jackie’s hand went self-consciously to the side of her head. “What’s the matter with my ears?”

  “Not a thing, dear. But your hair is lovely, and it frames your face beautifully.”

  At that moment, Emilee Howard approached and claimed Margaret’s attention to discuss some matter related to Vacation Bible School. Still stinging from the ear comment, Jackie walked to her car.

  Inside, she swiveled the rearview mirror so she could examine her reflection. The scrunchie came out, and a toss of her head set her hair free. She did have nice hair, if you were into uncontrollable curls. How many times had Aunt Betty told her that lots of women paid big money to get curls like Jackie’s? Turning her head from side to side, she decided wearing it down did make her jaw and chin look softer, a little more feminine.

  She smoothed the hair behind her ears with a quick gesture and looked again. That looked…controlled. Neater. But her nose did seem to take up more of her face this way, and her ears did stand out a bit…

  Forget Margaret, anyway! There was nothing wrong with her ears. She jerked the thick mane through the scrunchee, scowling at the mirror. She would wear her hair however she liked!

  A movement outside drew her attention. The Dorsey twins soared past her front bumper, racing to their car. Kathy followed at a slower pace carrying a grocery sack in one hand. Now might be a good time to continue their interrupted conversation.

  But when the young mom looked toward Jackie, her expression froze. She looked quickly away and picked up her pace, as though she hoped Jackie had not seen her, though they both knew she had.

  Jackie remained in her car while an uncomfortable feeling settled in her stomach. It was like high school all over again. Kathy was only a few years older than Jackie. Under different circumstances, they might have been friends. But Jackie had to go and act like a big-time interrogator, so of course Kathy wanted to avoid talking to her.

  But the questions were necessary! How else could she get to the bottom of Mrs. Farmer’s death? And without a doubt, Kathy knew something she wasn’t telling.

  Jackie watched the other woman snap the boys’ seat belts before getting behind the wheel, all the while keeping her back to Jackie’s car. Jackie chewed on a fingernail as the Chevy pulled out of the parking lot.

  What did that girl know that made her so afraid? If they’d had a few more minutes before Margaret and Pastor Palmer arrived earlier, Jackie would have gotten it out of her. Another question or two would have done the trick.

  She turned the ignition key and the Toyota roared to life. Whatever Kathy knew, Jackie intended to find out tonight. Nicely, of course. Diplomatically. They’d just have a little girl talk, and Kathy would share her secret and clear up the issue.

  If Kathy’s secret turned out to be something important, Jackie could alert Dennis in the morning.

  While going through the church directory, Jackie had noted the Dorsey address because it wasn’t far from her apartment. She drove there now, catching a glimpse of Kathy’s red Chevy ahead of her every so often. She turned onto Taylor Avenue in time to see Kathy pull into a driveway halfway down the street.

  The houses here were modest-sized, single-story buildings, each with a pair of trees in the front yard. No garages, so Jackie pulled over to the side of the road several houses away from Kathy’s and watched as the boys ran from the car to the front door of a rectangular brick home. Kathy, carrying her grocery sack, followed with her keys and let them inside.

  Should she go in right now? Jackie’s stomach fluttered at the thought. Maybe she should wait a few minutes. It was almost nine o’clock, surely close to the boys’ bedtime. Maybe after they were in bed, Kathy would talk more openly.

  One fingernail reduced to a nub, Jackie switched to another.

  A vehicle passed. A white Grand Cherokee, new by the looks of it. She noted it in passing, her attention focused on deciding the right time to continue her interrogation. The vehicle passed Kathy’s driveway and parked on the street two houses beyond. A man got out. He slammed the door, walked a few steps away, and turned to point a remote-controlled power lock at the Cherokee.

  When he walked quickly toward the Dorsey residence, Jackie sat up in her seat. Average height, dark hair, gray suit. Hard to make out details in the rapidly diminishing twiligh
t, but this was a professional man, by the looks of him. He took long strides, carrying himself with confidence. He—

  Wait a minute! When he stepped into the ring of light shed by the porch lamp, Jackie got a good look at him. She recognized this guy. That was Richard Watson, Laura’s husband. What was he doing at Kathy Dorsey’s house at almost nine o’clock at night?

  The front door opened. From her vantage point, Jackie couldn’t see who stood inside the house, but she saw Richard say something, and then he stepped across the threshold. The door closed behind him.

  Jackie threw herself against the backrest. This felt big. Richard Watson was a vice president at Versailles Bank and Trust, the same bank where Kathy worked as a teller. What possible reason would a vice president have for visiting the home of a teller, unless…

  She shook her head. No. No way. Richard was married to a beautiful, gracious woman. He had a great job and was respected in the church and the community.

  They were both church members, for cryin’ out loud! They couldn’t be having an affair.

  On the other hand, if they were having an affair, and if Mrs. Farmer had somehow found out about it, her poison pen would certainly not have dawdled over this one. Imagine the scandal that sort of news would cause! Richard would probably lose his job at the bank.

  The fear on Kathy’s face loomed large in Jackie’s mind. Her job would probably be in jeopardy, too. Was this the secret Jackie saw lurking in her eyes, the one she refused to tell?

  Something else occurred to her. That day at the picnic, when Mrs. Farmer was going on about the UPS man, what had she said? Something about people wallowing in sin. Jackie scrunched her eyes shut, trying to reconstruct the scene. They’d been sitting at the picnic table, Mrs. Farmer on Jackie’s left, Margaret and Pastor Palmer across from them. Pastor Palmer said Christians should pray for people who struggled with sin, and Mrs. Farmer said struggling was one thing, but wallowing in sin was another. The old woman had been glaring at someone. Jackie remembered looking in the same direction.