“Hey, it’s Dennis. Listen, I know you were mad at me yesterday. And that stupid crack—uh, I’m sorry for that. I shouldn’t have said it.” He paused before going on in a harder voice. “Even though you had no business running around in those woods alone. Anyway, I’d like to talk to you. I’m off this afternoon so give me a call at home when you get this. Later.”
Stunned, Jackie pressed Reverse and collapsed onto the couch as she listened to the message again.
He’d called. Dennis Walsh had actually called her house. And his apology sounded sincere. He was sorry he had made her mad. Did this mean he might…
No. Jackie shook her head, rejecting the flicker of hope that threatened to warm her insides. If she’d learned one thing in the past week, it was that Dennis Walsh was only interested in her for one reason: he wanted any information she could give him about the murder. Nothing else.
With a sigh, she heaved herself off the couch. Dennis could wait by his phone all night, as far as she was concerned. She would not call.
A third message had begun. She hit Reverse again and took a step toward the kitchen.
“Hello, Jackie? This is Lucy McKinley at the Woodford County Library. Remember that book we looked for yesterday? I found it. It was misshelved. Someone put it in Fiction, in the C’s. I can’t imagine how that happened, because the author’s name starts with an F, not a C, and obviously an encyclopedia isn’t fiction. Anyway, I’ve put it on hold for you, if you want to come by and pick it up. Thanks. Bye.”
Wow. This was big, really big. No matter what Lucy thought, no library worker would make such a mistake. Possibly a lazy patron would drop a book on the wrong shelf, but Jackie didn’t think that’s what had happened.
Her resolve flew out the window as she grabbed the telephone and dialed Dennis’ home number.
His voice held a note of warmth. “Hi, Jackie. I was hoping—”
She cut him off. “Meet me at the library. It’s important.”
She slammed the receiver back into its cradle and whirled to grab her purse off the dinette table. Linus, sensing her impending departure, launched himself at her legs, yowling loudly. Though her head buzzed with urgency, responsibility stabbed at her.
“Oh all right, pest. Come on. I’ll feed you first.”
Twenty minutes later, Jackie catapulted through the library door at something just short of a run to find Dennis waiting for her. He stood leaning against Lucy’s desk, dressed in jeans and a blue U.K. T-shirt.
“Odd place for a meeting,” he said with a grin.
Her tongue struck by a momentary bout of paralysis, Jackie stopped dead in the middle of the floor. For a few heartbeats she was unaware of anything except the depths of the gray eyes that held hers captive.
Lucy broke into the moment by standing from her chair behind the desk.
“Jackie, I see you got my message. I put your book right over here on the Hold shelf.”
Jackie tore her gaze away from Dennis. “Don’t touch it!”
The librarian turned a surprised expression Jackie’s way, her hand hovering above the book. “Why not?”
“Yes, Miss Hoffner,” said an arrogant voice behind her. “Why don’t you tell us all?”
Jackie whirled to see Detective Conner striding through the door, his ever-present smile plastered on his face. She looked back to give Dennis a quick eye roll. Couldn’t the guy make a move without his keeper?
At least the detective could make things happen. Jackie took two steps toward the man and grabbed his arm.
“Detective Conner, we found the book the killer used to identify the poisonous mushrooms.”
Conner’s attention shifted from Jackie to Dennis, then back again. “Walsh told me about the book. Since it turned up here at the library and not in the killer’s possession, how can that help us find the killer?”
“This book is a mushroom encyclopedia with pictures. The killer came here to find pictures of poisonous mushrooms. He got the book, found the pictures, and then hid it in the fiction section before anyone saw him reading it.”
Detective Conner nodded slowly. “That is a plausible explanation, but how does that help us apprehend the murderer?”
“Don’t you see?” Jackie stomped her foot. “Fingerprints! Dust the book for fingerprints. That’s what CSI would do.”
“CSI has Grissom, Miss Hoffner. We do not.”
“Are you saying you can’t dust for fingerprints?”
“Of course we can dust for fingerprints. And we collected a good set of prints from the inside of the rubber gloves the killer wore while picking the deadly mushrooms. But AFIS didn’t have a match.”
Dennis explained. “In order to identify an individual using their fingerprints, they must be on file with the criminal justice system database that stores the prints of—”
Jackie cut him off. “I know what AFIS is.”
“Ah, yes.” Conner awarded her a long-suffering smile. “CSI again.”
She wanted to scream. Why wouldn’t they listen to her? “At least you could try! If nothing else, you might be able to match some prints on the book with the ones you got inside the gloves.”
Her breath lodged in her chest, she stared up into Conner’s face, silently begging him to act. Finally, he gave a tiny nod.
“All right. Anything that can help us piece together the killer’s steps leading up to the crime will help.” He looked up. “Walsh, bag the book.”
Jackie’s lungs deflated. Thank goodness.
Dennis retrieved an evidence kit from his police car and placed the book in a big zipper bag. Jackie saw that it was an oversize paperback with, thankfully, a coated cover that would hopefully yield a good set of prints.
“Hey,” said Lucy as they turned to leave. “You can’t take that book without checking it out. Library policy.”
They all froze. Dennis and Conner exchanged glances, momentarily stumped.
“I guess we could call the judge at home and get a warrant,” Dennis suggested.
Honestly, men could be so simple-minded at times. Shaking her head in their direction, Jackie reached into her purse for her library card. “Here you go, Lucy. I’ll be responsible for the book.”
Samantha’s hospital room looked like a florist shop when Jackie stepped through the door holding the spring bouquet she’d bought on the way. Bright spots of color covered every available surface, and a big bouquet of Mylar balloons hovered above the teen’s bed. Probably a good thing she had the room to herself. Another patient wouldn’t fit.
Samantha looked pretty grim. Her nose, lips and cheeks were swollen grotesquely to twice their normal size. A bandage covered her head and half her face, and tubes protruded from her arm. The unbandaged eye was closed. Jackie caught sight of a nasty bruise spreading from beneath the bandage to cover most of her jaw, lips and nose.
Margaret and Pastor Palmer stood at the foot of the bed talking quietly with Nick. When she stepped through the door, Sharon rose from a chair on the far side of the bed and rushed toward her. She threw her arms around Jackie and delivered a bear hug that sent a lump to her throat.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Sharon pulled back to look at her. “She’s going to be okay.” Her voice lowered. “And police say there was no connection to…you know.”
“That is wonderful.” Jackie squeezed her in return. “I’m so glad, Sharon.”
“Hello, everyone,” boomed a voice behind Jackie.
They all turned to find Esther standing in the doorway, her arms wrapped around a huge picnic basket covered with a bright yellow cloth. On the bed, Samantha’s eye opened.
“Hello, Mrs. Hodges. Hello, Jackie.”
Her lips barely moved as she spoke, and she sounded so weary Jackie wanted to weep. So young to be hurt so terribly.
Esther’s voice softened as she thrust the picnic basket into Margaret’s arms and stepped to the teenager’s bedside.
“Hello, honey. How you doing under all that gauze?”
“Ok
ay, I guess.”
Sharon pulled Jackie forward to stand beside Esther. Jackie smiled at the teen, hoping her face didn’t register the horror she felt at the disfiguring results of the attack.
“Well, don’t you worry, baby,” Esther soothed. “You’re gonna be just fine. You’ve got the whole church praying for you, and the Lord Himself is watching over every breath you take. You just remember that.”
The corners of the girl’s swollen lips lifted. “I will.”
Jackie couldn’t help but stare at Esther’s tender expression. If love for a fellow human being could be seen in a face, Jackie was seeing it now. Guilt rose from deep inside to warm her cheeks. How could she have thought this woman capable of harming anyone?
Lord, I need to learn how to love like that.
Esther turned from the bedside and reached for the basket.
“I don’t know what you have in this thing,” Margaret commented as she handed it over, “but it smells heavenly.”
It did. The savory odors of garlic and sage filled the hospital room, chasing away the less appetizing smell of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol.
“Chicken and dumplings, with Caesar salad and fresh green beans. But don’t get excited, Margaret.” She turned a wide smile on Sharon. “They’re for Sharon and Nick.”
Sharon’s mouth opened in surprise, and Nick said, “Mrs. Hodges, you didn’t have to do that.”
The stout woman dismissed that with a wave. “Call me Esther. Everybody does. And of course I didn’t have to. I wanted to. There’s plates and silverware in here, too, and it’s a beautiful evening. I bet you haven’t been outside all day, have you?”
Sharon and Nick shook their heads.
“Thought so. I saw a picnic table around the side of this building, and I’m gonna take you out there and serve you myself while there’s still some sunlight to enjoy.”
Sharon’s attention flew to the bed. “Oh, thank you, that’s very kind. But we couldn’t leave Samantha.”
“Nonsense. Margaret can watch her for a few minutes.”
“Go on, Mom,” Samantha managed. “It’s fine.”
“Well…”
Esther took charge. She thrust the basket into Nick’s arms and locked her elbow through Sharon’s. “C’mon. We’ll be back before you know it. This dumpling recipe is an old family secret, handed down from my grandmother’s…”
She deftly guided Samantha’s parents out the door, her voice growing dim as she steered them down the hallway toward the elevator.
“Actually,” Pastor Palmer said, “I was just about ready to leave myself. Jackie, would you mind bringing Margaret home when you come?”
“No problem.”
He went to the bedside and laid a hand gently on the teenager’s. “Do you mind if I pray for you before I leave?”
“Please.”
Jackie and Margaret bowed their heads, as well.
“Father, I know Your heart grieves for the pain Samantha is suffering. Thank You for the marvelous job You’ve done in her recovery so far. We trust You to finish the good work You’ve begun in her body and in her life. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.”
“Amen,” Jackie chorused along with Margaret.
Samantha managed a feeble smile. “Thank you.”
He kissed Margaret’s cheek and smiled at Jackie as he left the room. “See you later.”
“Bye.”
Margaret leaned over the bed. “Samantha, why don’t you try to sleep? We’ll sit here and be quiet and try not to disturb you.”
“Okay.”
The blue eye closed. Margaret dragged the visitor chair from her bedside to the doorway, next to the other one. She sat and patted the other seat with a smile at Jackie.
“How was your first day back at work?” she whispered.
“Busy,” Jackie replied, matching her volume. “But I had some excitement when I got home tonight.”
Jackie described her visit to the library yesterday and Lucy’s message tonight, and her conversation with Dennis and Detective Conner. By the time Jackie finished her tale, Margaret’s eyes were round.
“Jackie,” she rasped, breathless. “You’re not going to believe this. I think I know who had that book!”
Jackie’s breath caught in her throat. “Who?”
“Just a minute.”
Margaret went to the bedside. Jackie joined her.
“Samantha,” she whispered. “Samantha, are you awake?”
Samantha looked up at them, her eye glazed with drug-induced sleep.
“Listen, honey, I’m sorry to bother you, but this might be important. Do you remember telling me you saw someone from church at the library a few weeks ago?” Samantha stared at her, blank. “You were there doing research about your friend, remember?”
Her head dipped a fraction. Jackie’s pulse took off like a thoroughbred out of the starting gate.
“Who was it, dear? Who did you see?”
The girl’s throat convulsed as she swallowed. When she spoke, her lips barely moved.
“Mrs. Watson.”
Jackie jerked back. Laura Watson? No! It couldn’t be. Not sweet, elegant, beautiful Laura Watson.
Margaret’s eyes locked with hers, and Jackie saw her own shock mirrored there. The older woman leaned over the bed again.
“You’re sure, dear? You aren’t mistaken?”
Again, Samantha gave a tiny nod. “I’m sure. Why?”
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. Go back to sleep.”
Jackie rushed toward the hall, Margaret close on her heels. They stood just outside the doorway so their voices wouldn’t disturb the teenager.
“I don’t believe it,” Jackie murmured. “Laura is so…so gracious!”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Margaret cautioned, but uncertainty saturated her tone.
“Don’t you see?” Jackie insisted. “It fits. Dennis told me the security records proved Richard worked late the night of the potluck, and all day the next day. That means Laura wasn’t with him. She was probably home alone.”
“Without an alibi,” Margaret said.
“Exactly. And the night Samantha was run down, Richard was out of town. Again, Laura was alone. Oh!” Jackie slapped her hand on the top of her head as another clue fell into place. “The gloves. Laura goes to the dentist every month—she told us so at lunch that day. Dentists have boxes of rubber gloves in their examining rooms, don’t they?”
Margaret’s brow creased. “Mine does.”
“So does mine.”
They stared at each other. Then Margaret shook her head.
“I can’t believe Laura would go so far as to steal your car and try to kill Samantha just because she saw her at the library.”
Jackie sucked in a breath. “That might be another clue, Margaret. Was Laura standing nearby when I told Esther where I hide my spare key?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Well, I can find out pretty quick.”
Jackie raced into the hospital room and grabbed her purse off the empty bed. Samantha still slept. Her chest rose and fell in an even rhythm.
Back in the hallway, Jackie rummaged in her purse. “I haven’t erased any of the recordings yet, so it should still be on there. Maybe we can tell who was standing around.”
Jackie pulled out the recorder. She hadn’t used it in days, but thank goodness she hadn’t bothered to take it out of her purse yet. She adjusted the volume so they could hear it, but low enough to not disturb Samantha in the room behind them.
“Let’s see, I talked to several people before that lunch. The nursing home people, and then Sharon, so it won’t be all the way at the beginning.”
She pressed Reverse and Play several times until they heard a snatch of conversation from the lunch at Shaker Village, then she reversed again. The voices from the internal speaker sounded like chipmunks on amphetamines.
“There,” said Margaret. “That sounds right.”
Esther’s voice spoke to them from the r
ecorder.
“—all my fault. Locked my keys in the car, so Julie had to come get me.”
“Oh, no. Not again.” Margaret’s voice.
Jackie and Margaret exchanged a glance.
“Yep. Third time this month. And that hide-a-key thing Jim put under the back bumper musta fell off, because I couldn’t find it. And he’s out of town again, doggone him, and has my spare on his key ring.”
“What will you do?”
“Sylvia,” said Jackie.
Margaret nodded.
“Oh, not to worry. I’ll call Triple A when I get home. They’re getting so they know my voice.”
“You need to get another spare made immediately. This time, put it someplace where it won’t fall off.”
“That’s her,” said Margaret. “That’s Laura.”
Then Jackie’s own voice sounded in her ears, giving the critical information that would aid a killer in inflicting terrible injury on the teenager in the room behind them.
“I keep a spare key inside the gasoline door. The little box fits right in there, and it can’t fall off with the door closed.”
“Hey, that’s a good idea. Never thought of that.”
Jackie pressed the off button. The blood drained away from her face, leaving her shivering with cold.
“She was standing right there. She knew where I hid my key.”
Margaret looked as sick as Jackie felt. “I think you’d better call the police. Now.”
TWENTY-ONE
At eleven-twenty on Tuesday afternoon, Jackie parallel parked the rental car on Main Street a block from Kessler’s Deli. Her boss had not been happy when she had asked for a couple of hours for lunch that day. She’d sweet-talked him by promising to work overtime the rest of the week. No way was she going to miss this all-important Tuesday lunch with the church ladies.
She hurried down the street toward the restaurant. She was ten minutes early, and hopefully Margaret would be here soon. Or Esther, or Julie, or somebody. Jackie’s stomach twisted tighter than a rope at the thought of facing Laura Watson alone.
Murder by Mushroom Page 19