Murder by Mushroom

by Virginia Smith

  Jackie managed to contain her tears until she closed the bedroom door behind her.

  Dennis felt like a heel. The look on Jackie’s face when Byers opened the door to put her in the rear seat of his cruiser would haunt him for days. Like she was being led to the gas chamber. He could see the back of her damp head through the rear window now as he rolled to a stop behind Byers at a traffic light.

  He’d felt the oddest sensation in her apartment, as if he should come to her rescue or something. But what could he do? He wasn’t there as her friend. As a state trooper assigned to an investigation, his job was to take notes, period, no matter what he thought personally about the suspect.

  And he held a definite opinion about Jackie as a suspect. No way had she run that girl down last night. He would stake his career on that. But facts couldn’t be denied. A witness had seen a gray Toyota speeding away from the scene. Byers had notified the state police when he discovered the teenager was a member of the same church as their murder victim, and Conner tipped him that Jackie drove a car matching that description. Sure enough, blood had been found on the bumper of her car. The girl’s blood, presumably.

  No, Jackie was not a murderer. But she was somehow entangled in whatever was going on with the members of that church. First the murderer had used her casserole to administer poisonous mushrooms, and then he or she used her car to run down a teenager.

  He looked at Conner in the passenger seat. The detective would be furious when he discovered where some of his tips came from. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, and not a big deal to just listen to information Jackie so obviously wanted to pass along. But now he wasn’t so sure.

  Better to confess than have Conner discover it from someone else.

  “I need to tell you something.” Conner turned his head. “That tip about Richard Watson having an affair? It came from Miss Hoffner. And the stuff I told you yesterday, about Mrs. Farmer suspecting him of embezzlement—that came from her, too.”

  The detective closed his eyes. “I was afraid of that. Not smart, Walsh. Not smart at all.”

  Dennis flinched. “But Mrs. Dorsey verified the second part when we talked to her last night. So that turned out to be true at least.”

  Conner opened his eyes. “Have you given Hoffner any information in return?”

  The traffic light changed, and Dennis accelerated, glad for an excuse to look away from the detective’s piercing glance.

  “I told her about the toxicology report. But,” he added defensively, “that’s a matter of public record. And you have to admit, she’s provided a couple of important leads, with the victim’s letter-writing habit and the embezzlement suspicion. A good detective should cultivate all kinds of sources, shouldn’t he?”

  Conner remained silent for the rest of the trip, leaving Dennis to wonder if he would be removed from the case.

  They followed Byers’s cruiser into the parking lot outside the sheriff’s office. When Dennis put the car in Park and turned off the engine, Conner made no move to open the door. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

  Finally, the detective turned in his seat. “Yeah, a detective needs sources. But this girl is smack dab in the middle of a dangerous situation. I mean, she’s marinating in it.”

  “I don’t think she’s guilty of anything,” Dennis argued, but Conner held up a hand.

  “I’m inclined to agree with you. But either someone has it out for her, or she is the most convenient dupe I’ve ever run into. Either way, it is entirely inappropriate for you to talk to her about the case.”

  “But she’s a source. If she can give us—”

  “You don’t understand my point. It’s not only inappropriate, Walsh, it could be dangerous for her. Have you thought of that? This killer is obviously someone she knows. When he decides he hasn’t been successful in framing her, he might come after her. The less she knows, the less danger she poses.”

  Alarm shot through Dennis. He’d been so focused on trying to solve the case, and, actually, on enjoying Jackie’s gung-ho enthusiasm in trying to weasel information from a bunch of old church ladies, he’d never considered that she might really be in danger. But this latest development—someone taking her car to run down a kid…That put a whole new spotlight on Jackie’s position in this case.

  She lived alone in that apartment with a cat and nobody to protect her. What if…

  He rounded in his seat. “Should we assign her a twenty-four-hour guard? I can do that, sir. I’ll be happy to protect her.”

  Conner’s eyes narrowed, the shadow of a smile playing around his mouth. “I don’t think we need to go that far, but we do need to keep an eye on her. And we need to make sure she stays out of this investigation.” He caught Dennis with a meaningful glance. “You seem to be in a pretty good position to do that.”

  Was Conner saying his relationship with Jackie had crossed the line from professional to personal? She sure was on his mind a lot lately. But even if he admitted to himself that he found her attractive, he could still keep things at a professional distance.

  He met the detective’s eye and nodded. “I’ll try, sir.”

  “Just remember what I said, Walsh.” Conner reached for the door handle. “NBT. Trouble can take a man unawares.”

  Dennis ignored the implication and followed Conner out of the car, hurrying to catch up with Byers as he led Jackie inside with a hand on her elbow. Relief that he didn’t have to stop talking to Jackie kept Dennis’s step light. The thought of Jackie in danger was frightening, but whoever was behind these terrible crimes would have to get past him first.

  SEVENTEEN

  Jackie heaved a sigh of relief when she walked out the doors of the sheriff’s office into the bright spring sunshine. The past two hours had been the most frustrating of her life. First they’d put her in a room more sterile than a hospital, and then left her sitting alone for forty minutes. When Byers and Conner finally showed up, they asked the same questions she had already answered at home. Over and over again, as if they were trying to trip her up.

  The shock of having her car stolen and used to run over Samantha Carlson was starting to wear off. Instead, she boiled with anger and humiliation. The police were treating her like a criminal, as if they considered her capable of committing such a terrible act. To make matters worse, did they really think her stupid enough to drive her car home and leave it in the parking lot without even bothering to wash the blood off the bumper?

  Jackie stood at the edge of the sidewalk, uncertain what to do. Her car had been impounded as evidence and no one could give her an idea of how long before she got it back. She should make some phone calls to find a rental for a few days. On Monday morning, she’d need a car to drive to work.

  Behind her, the door to the sheriff’s building opened. When she saw Dennis striding down the sidewalk toward her, she took off down the street at a fast walk.

  “Jackie, wait up. I’ll give you a ride.”

  She increased her pace. Dennis was the last person she wanted to talk to right now.

  “Hey, slow down a minute.” He jogged up beside her and reached out to tug at her elbow.

  Whirling, she jerked her arm out of his grip and allowed every ounce of fury she had suppressed over the past two hours to show in her eyes.

  He took a step backward. “Whoa, what’s got you so riled up?”

  “Oh, not much,” she spat. “I always enjoy spending Saturday morning being fed to the wolves by someone I trust.”

  “What are you talking about? I didn’t feed you to the wolves.”

  “Well, you certainly didn’t come to my rescue, either.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “And what was I supposed to do? Provide an alibi for you? Tell them you were with me last night? I’m not going to lie for you or anyone else.”

  “I didn’t ask you to lie, but you could have said something in my defense. Like you don’t think I ran over Samantha Carlson.”

  “I did say that. I
said it to both Byers and Conner when they called me early this morning, and again to Conner when we left your place.”

  She sniffed. “Well, you didn’t say it in front of me.” Tears pricked her eyes, and she blinked them back. “You just sat there like a statue and let them rake me over the coals.”

  “Believe me, they did not rake you over the coals. In fact, they went pretty easy on you, considering your car ran somebody over last night.” His voice softened. “Look, Jackie, nobody thinks you hurt that girl. But under the circumstances, those questions had to be asked. Surely you understand that.”

  Jackie looked away. What did she want from him? An apology? For what? For doing his job? Or for not jumping to her defense like…like a boyfriend would.

  “Come on, get in the car.”

  She sniffed again. “I don’t think so. I’ll just walk home.”

  “It’s almost five miles to your apartment. Those don’t exactly look like comfortable walking shoes.”

  Her toes peeked from the sandals she had slipped on this morning. He was right about that. Her feet would be blistered by the time she got home. But when she looked up into his eyes, she caught a glimpse of amusement in those gray depths. Did he think this was funny? How dare he laugh at her!

  “I’ll manage, thank you.”

  She walked away, her head held high. Behind her, he heaved a sigh.

  “Have it your way, then.”

  Proud of herself for her show of independence, Jackie marched down the street without looking back, even when she heard his footsteps receding in the opposite direction. As she walked, her anger simmered. No, of course she hadn’t expected him to lie for her, but would it have been so hard to give one little smile of encouragement while his police buddies hounded her?

  Obviously, Margaret was wrong. Dennis Walsh did not have any feelings for her. Well, that was just fine with her.

  A traitorous tear slipped down her cheek as she walked in search of a pay phone to call a taxi.

  At three o’clock that afternoon, Jackie got out of a taxicab under the awning at the Lexington airport. She leaned in the window to pay her second cab fare of the day, this one significantly higher than the first. Could expenses like this be turned in to the sheriff’s office, since they had her car? She just might try it.

  The row of rental-car counters lined the wall facing the two baggage carousels. Jackie had never flown in her life, but the Lexington airport was small enough not to be intimidating. Five minutes later, she crossed the street to find her car in the rental lot.

  Central Baptist Hospital was huge compared to the one in Versailles. Jackie stopped at the main building’s reception desk for directions and then proceeded to Medical ICU on the fourth floor. When she stepped off the elevator, she found the waiting room on her left.

  The place was packed. A television mounted high in one corner played CNN, the volume low. Standing in the entrance, Jackie took a moment to scan the people sitting in the chairs that lined the walls. She knew many of them from church.

  “Jackie,” said Vince Carlson, rising from his seat to cross the room and take her hand.

  Vince looked terrible, as well he might with his granddaughter lying critically injured in ICU. Dark circles tugged at the sagging skin beneath his reddened eyes, and his shoulders stooped as though they carried a weight too heavy to bear.

  “Mr. Carlson, I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do…”

  He shook his head. “Coming to show your support is enough. That, and prayer.” He looked deeply into Jackie’s eyes. “Prayer is what Samantha needs most right now.”

  Several other people came to stand beside them, forming a long-faced cluster of Heritage Community Church members. Pastor Palmer, Julie McCoy, Beverly Sanders, Mr. and Mrs. Pearson.

  Pastor Palmer took Jackie’s hand when Vince released it. “Jackie, it was so good of you to come. Margaret will be sorry she missed you. She went home a little while ago with Esther to get some rest.”

  After yesterday, Jackie very much doubted Margaret would be sorry to miss her. She looked into Pastor Palmer’s kind face and saw that he knew what had transpired between them. His grip on her hand tightened, and he gave an encouraging nod. “She’ll be glad to hear you came by.”

  “It’s the least I can do, after…”

  They all stared at her, waiting for her to finish. Had the police told them whose car hit Samantha? She scanned the room. If they’d told anyone, it would be Samantha’s parents.

  “Is Sharon here?”

  Vince gestured down the hallway. “They only allow two visitors at a time in ICU for fifteen minutes every few hours. She and Nick have been back there almost that long now.”

  At that moment, a set of electronic doors a few yards down the corridor opened. Sharon and a man Jackie had never seen stepped through. Nick, Sharon’s husband. His resemblance to his father was striking. He had an arm around Sharon’s waist, and she leaned on him for support, a tissue covering her weeping eyes.

  Vince rushed toward them. “Is she worse?”

  “No, Pop, nothing like that.” The younger man turned a tired smile on his father. “Actually, it’s good news. She’s starting to regain consciousness.”

  “Praise the Lord,” said Beverly, and the others nodded.

  Sharon blotted at her eyes. “It’s just so hard to see her lying there, all bandaged up like that.”

  Vince enfolded the blond woman in his arms and squeezed. “She’s going to be fine. I know it. So many people are praying.”

  Sharon’s response went unsaid, for at that moment she noticed Jackie standing with the others. Her lips twisted. “What is she doing here?”

  Jackie wanted to slink away at the venom in her voice.

  Vince turned to look at her with surprise, then spoke to Sharon. “She goes to our church. She’s here to offer support.”

  She glared at Jackie. “Just what we need. Another dogooder hanging around.”

  “Sharon,” said Nick, his tone low. “Be nice.”

  “I don’t have to be nice.” A sob escaped her lips. “My baby is lying in that hospital room covered in bandages and tubes.”

  “That isn’t Jackie’s fault,” Vince said with an awkward glance in her direction.

  “Actually,” Jackie said, gulping miserably, “it sort of might be.”

  Every head swiveled her way. She found she could not look at Vince’s rounded eyes, nor the shock on Pastor Palmer’s face. Aware that everyone was watching, she took a step toward Sharon.

  “Have the police told you they found the car that hit Samantha?”

  Nick shook his head, but Sharon held her gaze without moving. Jackie took a shuddering breath.

  “It was mine.”

  Exclamations sounded from those in the room.

  “What?”

  “Oh, Jackie, no!”

  “My word!”

  Jackie saw question lines appear on Sharon’s forehead.

  “Go on,” the other woman said.

  Jackie swallowed. “The police showed up at my apartment this morning. They say a witness saw the car that hit Samantha, and it was a gray Toyota. That’s what I drive. They looked at my car, and found…” She hesitated, afraid of what she would see in Sharon’s eyes when she continued. “They found blood on the front bumper.”

  Beside her, Beverly and Julie gasped. Jackie rushed on, willing Sharon to believe her.

  “The car had been moved during the night. Someone took it, but when they brought it back they parked in the wrong parking space.” She took another step toward Sharon. “Please, you’ve got to believe me. I would never hurt Samantha, not for anything in the world.”

  “Of course we believe you,” Vince said, coming to put an arm around her.

  Nick looked from Jackie to his father to his wife, uncertainty etched on his face. Sharon, frozen, seemed to stare inside Jackie’s soul. Jackie returned her stare and did not flinch.

  Sharon’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, I believe you.�
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  The onlookers expelled a collective sigh, and Jackie’s head went light with relief. “Thank you.”

  Sharon glanced at Nick, then stepped toward Jackie. “Could we talk privately a minute?”

  Startled, Jackie shot a look at Pastor Palmer and then nodded. “Sure.”

  “Let’s take a walk.”

  Jackie fell into step beside the blonde. They entered the elevator, and the voices of the others pressing Nick for details on Samantha’s condition died away.

  Side by side, they watched the display change from four, to three, to two, and finally to one. Neither spoke. Jackie’s thoughts whirled. What did Sharon want to talk about? Maybe she didn’t really believe Jackie after all, but wanted to get her away from the other members of Heritage Community Church before blasting her. Jackie swallowed, her throat dry. If that was the case, then so be it. She would take it without a word. Maybe it would help Sharon to have someone to blame.

  They walked out the hospital’s front door, and Sharon stopped. She tilted her face toward the sun and inhaled.

  “I haven’t been outside all day.”

  Jackie looked around. Across the front parking lot was a small grassy area with a stone bench. “Want to sit over there?”

  Sharon shrugged. “Sure.”

  They weaved between parked cars until they reached the bench, then sat side by side. Sharon remained silent for a moment while Jackie cast about in her mind for something to say.

  Finally, Sharon turned and propped one foot up on the bench. “That took guts in there.”

  Jackie flushed. “It wasn’t the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” she admitted. “And especially after I was so…rude the other day. I’m sorry about that.”

  Sharon said, “Don’t worry about it. If either of us was rude, it was probably me. I tend to get my feathers ruffled whenever people who call themselves Christians want to talk to me.”

  “You know, Sharon, not all Christians are like Mrs. Farmer.” Jackie looked away. “Or me.”

  Sharon looked toward the windows on the fourth floor of the hospital. “Yeah, I’m beginning to see that.”