Murder by Mushroom

by Virginia Smith

  She looked at Kathy again. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you some more, because I thought you acted like you were holding something back at the church. I guess now I know what.”

  Kathy nodded. “And the worst part is Richard found out that I was asking questions. I’m just a teller, and I don’t have access to any records like Mrs. Farmer wanted. So I talked to a friend in the internal audit department. At least—” her lips twisted into a bitter grimace “—I thought he was a friend. But he told someone about my questions, and it got back to Richard.”

  “So Richard came to your house to find out why you were snooping around about him at work.” Jackie used the word snooping deliberately, with a quick glance toward Margaret.

  “That’s right. I was so upset I didn’t handle things very well. I blurted out the truth, and that’s when he told me he could have me fired far more easily than Mrs. Farmer.” She sniffed again, and reached for another napkin. “And he’s right. He’s a bigwig at the bank.”

  Margaret leaned forward. “Do you think there’s any truth to Alice’s accusations?”

  Kathy shrugged. “I don’t know. He said there wasn’t, that Mrs. Farmer was just a malicious old busybody who loved to dig up dirt to hold over people’s heads. I never found anything suspicious.”

  Jackie chewed on another nail. If Mrs. Farmer’s suspicions were right, then Richard had a strong motive for killing her. Not only would he lose his job, but he would go to prison.

  “So why did he come to your house on Wednesday?” she asked.

  “He said he wanted to make sure I wasn’t spending any more time on Mrs. Farmer’s claim.” She looked suddenly fearful. “His exact words were, ‘Now that Alice Farmer is dead, I hope her accusations died with her.’”

  A chill shot down Jackie’s spine. By the look on Margaret’s face, she felt the same.

  “Did you tell this to the police, dear?” Margaret’s voice held a hint of urgency.

  A flood of tears returned to Kathy’s eyes. “I was afraid to. Richard really can have me fired.”

  Jackie grabbed the young woman’s hand and gave it a shake. “If he murdered Mrs. Farmer, getting fired is the least of your worries.”

  Kathy sniffed and sat up. “I’ve got to get to work.”

  “I think you should take the day off,” Margaret said.

  Kathy shook her head. “I called to let them know I’d be late, but we’re short-handed this week so I have to go in. I’ll be all right.”

  Jackie remained at the table as Margaret led Kathy to the bathroom to wash her face. Richard Watson, a murderer. She could hardly believe it. He looked so…so sophisticated. So smooth and gentlemanly.

  Correction. No gentleman would threaten a single mother’s job. Nor would a gentleman murder an old woman.

  Poor Laura. She was so proud of her husband, so obviously in love with him. Did she know about this? Jackie remembered her face yesterday, glowing with pride as she talked about Richard’s work for poor families in Appalachia. No, Laura didn’t know. And it would break her heart when she found out.

  “Thank you, Margaret,” Kathy said as she and Margaret came back into the room. “I feel better now.”

  “I do think you should contact the police and tell them everything,” Margaret urged.

  Kathy’s jaw trembled as she shook her head. “I just can’t.”

  Jackie stood. “I’ll walk Kathy to her car,” she said with a meaningful glance at Margaret.

  The older woman hesitated, clearly struggling over leaving Kathy alone with her accuser. As if Jackie would hurt a flea. But then Margaret gave a quick nod.

  Jackie followed Kathy out the front door. The weather had turned hot the past few days, and though it was not yet ten o’clock, the sun had already burned through the morning chill to warm the air. A few hardy pink blooms clung stubbornly to Margaret’s dogwood tree, and a bright assortment of dandelions littered her yard. Hidden somewhere in the top branches of a sugar maple, a bird chirped with enthusiasm. If the morning hadn’t been so upsetting, Jackie would have been tempted to take a walk in the park just to enjoy the gorgeous spring day.

  At the door of her car, Kathy paused. She didn’t look at Jackie’s face, but stared through the open window. Jackie halted beside her, grasping for words. Apologies never came easily.

  “Listen,” she said, staring at the ground between them, “I really am sorry. Sometimes I act before I think.”

  Kathy’s gaze slid to capture Jackie’s. “What bothers me the most is that you actually thought I would have an affair with a married man. I wouldn’t, you know.”

  Miserable, Jackie said, “I do now.”

  “Well…” Kathy managed a smile, but her eyes held a hint of sadness that made Jackie feel like the biggest jerk in the world. “What’s done is done.”

  Jackie knew it wasn’t done.

  “Listen, Kathy, you’ve got to tell the police everything. They need to know.”

  The young woman bit her lower lip in hesitation, then shook her head. “I just can’t face them right now. I’ve got to get to work, and that detective…”

  She didn’t need to finish her thought. Jackie knew all about “that detective.”

  “What would you think about me telling him?”

  She hesitated to even suggest it, because she’d caused enough trouble for Kathy already. But Richard’s comment was more than suspicious; it was downright incriminating. Dennis and Detective Conner needed to know about it.

  Hope flared into Kathy’s eyes. “Would you?”

  “Of course, but you know they’re going to want to talk to you again.”

  “Do you think they’ll come to the bank?” She looked horrified at the thought.

  Jackie didn’t blame her. Having the police show up at your job would be humiliating.

  “I won’t say a word until they promise not to. But,” she added, “they’ll probably be waiting at your house when you get home tonight.”

  Kathy swallowed hard, then nodded. This time her smile was genuine. “Thank you, Jackie.”

  She stepped back as Kathy slid inside the car. When the Chevy pulled away from the curb, Jackie lifted a hand in farewell, watching until Kathy turned off Margaret’s street.

  She mounted the porch steps at a slow pace, not sure if she was looking forward to calling Dennis or not. He was sure to think her a big dope for jumping to the wrong conclusion about Kathy. But maybe he’d be happy with her for finding out the truth behind Richard’s visit.

  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?”

  FIFTEEN

  “But…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.