“He’d questioned Peter about sinker logs. Implied he might be getting them illegally.”
“Like I said, I don’t know, didn’t ask. Peter also brings me dried wood, so he has access to some that’s been around for a while.”
How far could I push the questioning? “How well did you know Ned Blaine?”
A frown creased Roger’s forehead. “Not well. He wrote a flattering article about the studio and my work. Why do you ask?”
“Sorry. Just curiosity, I guess. I was talking to this man yesterday afternoon and now he’s dead. It’s unnerving.”
Roger’s brow cleared. “I understand. Sometimes it helps to talk about experiences like that.”
“I need to get back to the inn. Thank you again for the tour.”
“Happy to do it.”
He walked me to my car, and we said good-bye.
As I pulled onto the highway, I thought about what I had learned. Peter was involved with retrieving fresh sinker logs as Ned had implied, but he claimed they were legal. Elise’s son, Joey, worked with him. Roger bought as much as he could and most people went to him when they wanted to sell. He didn’t question where they came from.
I didn’t know if any of this would prove helpful for Daniel, but it was a start. I felt he was more worried than he was letting on. Being involved in a murder investigation would feel uncomfortable under any circumstances. With the murdered man writing that Daniel had threatened him, even more so.
Chapter 10
I entered the conference room and found Mary, Gertie, and the Professor whisking photos off their work area and into labeled boxes. Helen had placed glasses, dishes, utensils, and napkins on the sideboard, as well as water and coffee.
Ivan entered with a red padded container slung over his shoulder. He put it on a chair, unzipped the top, and pulled out a large plastic container, which he placed on the table. Rudy followed him in with a small ice chest.
Gertie removed the lid from the container and pulled out a platter of sandwiches cut into quarters. “Thanks for carrying the food, Ivan.”
“I like to help. Carrying is something I can do.”
“And do well,” Gertie added.
Muscle made up much of Ivan’s bulk. He routinely worked on Nadia, his high-maintenance fishing boat, scrubbing and painting. His daily walks with his brother added to his fitness.
You wouldn’t know they were brothers. Rudy’s neatly trimmed beard and mustache contrasted sharply with the thick, bushy hair covering Ivan’s upper lip. The older brother’s bulk emphasized Rudy’s slight build. The only time I heard Rudy’s Russian accent was when he was excited or upset.
Rudy took a bowl from the ice chest and removed the cover. Bright yellow chunks of pineapple mingled with red and green grapes and vivid red cherries.
“Thanks, everyone, for being willing to meet on such short notice,” I said. “I’m concerned about Daniel.”
The Professor pulled notepads and pens from a drawer and placed them in front of where people would be sitting. “As are we, my dear. Being interrogated in a murder investigation is a serious matter.”
Mary nodded. “We know he’s innocent and wouldn’t kill someone, but mistakes are made and innocent people have gone to prison.”
She echoed the concern I had voiced.
Rudy put a serving spoon in the fruit bowl. “The Professor told us about the questioning. Parents are protective of their children. People could easily see Daniel doing whatever he felt necessary to protect his daughter…and feel he had a right to do so.”
“Let’s fill our plates and get down to business,” Gertie said. “Kelly, the choices are chicken, tuna salad, and vegetarian. We went through our cupboards and refrigerators, met at my house, and put together lunch with what we had.”
I placed one of each on my plate. “They look delicious.”
Gertie picked up a bag on a chair next to her and handed it to me. “Luckily I baked my favorite Pennsylvania Dutch wheat berry bread yesterday, so we had plenty of that. I brought half of a loaf for you.”
“Thanks! Homemade bread has a flavor all its own.” I put the loaf on a tray resting on the sideboard.
I took a bite of the tuna sandwich. The bread’s crunchiness went well with the smooth texture of the salad. The vegetarian consisted of cream cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, and sprouts.
“The chicken is the smoked organic the market has just started carrying,” the Professor said.
Everyone filled their plates and got settled.
“Here’s dessert.” Mary added a container of oversize chocolate chip cookies to the impromptu feast. The cookies’ sweet scent drifted over to me.
She reached over to the chair next to her and unzipped her dog purse. Princess popped into view. Her pink coat matched Mary’s pink sweater. The rose-colored jewels of her collar sparkled in the room’s light.
The Professor stood and retrieved the chart stand from the corner. He placed it next to the table. “Our goal is to find out who killed Ned Blaine and do it as fast as possible.”
“Did any of you know him?” I asked.
The Professor chose a Magic Marker from the drawer. “I don’t believe any of us knew him as a personal friend.”
The group members affirmed this statement with comments and nods.
Gertie put a couple of spoonfuls of fruit salad on her plate. “Ned interviewed us each time we were involved in a case. He was quite pleasant and very complimentary in what he wrote.”
Mary nodded. “He was the main reporter for the paper, so he covered just about everything that went on, from the church bazaar and school fund-raisers to theft and murder. His articles were very thorough.”
“He followed the criminal cases and, being a reporter, he also did investigative work, finding out things people didn’t want to come to light,” Rudy said. “He could have a lot of enemies. Where do we begin?”
“I know three areas he was working on,” I volunteered. “Mushroom-hunting areas, sinker logs, and the Native American sacred classification of the area near the Carson River.”
“Let’s start a chart for each of those,” Gertie suggested.
The Professor did as requested and taped them on the wall.
“When I heard he was killed,” I said, “I wondered what emotions drive people to murder. What do you think some of those would be?”
The group chimed in, calling out the words fear, jealousy, hatred, greed, and revenge. Ivan’s booming voice added anger.
The Professor added those to a fourth chart. “Now let’s think about which of these might be behind his death. Let’s prioritize them as best we can where Ned was concerned.”
Mary stared at the list. “I think jealousy, wanting what someone else has, is the least likely. He was a modest man, lived in a small home, and drove an older compact car. I’ve seen him around town frequently, but never with someone.”
Rudy leaned forward. “I’d put anger as number one. It’s a heated emotion and causes people to react in ways they might not normally do, and the work he did pushed a lot of buttons.”
Gertie nodded. “Also, anger can spill over into the other areas. Fear can trigger anger and hatred. Revenge is another form of anger.”
The Professor made a second list on the chart paper with anger underlined at the top and fear, hatred, and revenge underneath it. Jealousy went to the bottom of the page, while greed occupied the middle.
“Let’s look at the areas where he was working and list the names of people who might be involved in them and see if we can find where these emotions fit in,” I suggested.
“We know people were upset with him finding their mushroom areas,” Mary said. “Fear of them being found, angry when they were revealed, hatred that he was doing it.”
Gertie shook her head. “There are many serious fungi hunters in the area. That’s
a lot of people to have to sort out.”
“Peter was very upset,” I said. “We should put his name up there.”
The Professor wrote it on the chart.
“What do we know about sinker logs?” Rudy asked.
I explained what they were.
Ivan frowned. “What kind feelings go with wet logs?”
“They’re worth a lot of money,” I replied.
“What comes to my mind is greed, because of their worth, and fear of getting caught stealing,” I said. “Rumor has it folks are harvesting them illegally.”
Mary picked up one of her cookies. “Do we know anyone connected with them?”
“Roger Simmons buys as much as he can and wishes he could get more, so his name should be on the chart,” I said. “Peter needs to go there as well because he’s been selling them, and he certainly fits the profile of someone with anger issues.”
The Professor moved to the third chart labeled Native American Sacred Land. “Daniel’s the only one we know who is connected with the sacred site piece.”
“He’s looking into that,” I said. “When we decide on our next meeting, we can invite him to join us and share what he’s found out.”
The Professor sat at the table. “Ned was probably working on other areas we know nothing about, but this is a start.”
A meager one, I thought. Then I realized we needed to start another paper. “Let’s make a new chart and label it other.”
Once again I hated to pull Elise into it, but she certainly bore some ill will where Ned was concerned, as did her son. I filled in the Sentinels with what I knew and the names Joey and Elise were added to the chart.
“Let’s put Joey’s name on the log list as well. He’s been helping Peter,” I said.
The group surveyed the lists.
Gertie raised her hand. “I’m meeting with my organic gardening club this afternoon. I’ll see what I can find out about the mushroom hunters. Many of the members search for fungi, and they know a lot of people involved in that activity.”
The Professor wrote her name on the mushroom chart.
“Ivan and I can talk to the people at McMahon’s Wood Shop,” Rudy said. “We’ve been to it several times lately.”
“Yah. We go there for Nadia. Building special chest,” Ivan said.
“Ivan’s creating a new storage box,” Rudy explained, “and we’ve had to replace certain areas on the boat. Salt water is hard on it and can cause a lot of damage.”
The Professor placed their names on the log list. “I’ll make a visit to Mr. Mushroom.” He wrote his name in the appropriate place.
I laughed. “Mr. Mushroom? Really?”
The Professor grinned in return. “Yes. He’s a retired professor who buys and sells mushrooms and herbs. We get together for coffee and chats.”
Mary nibbled on her cookie, a puzzled look on her round face. Then she brightened. “The Friends of the Library have been discussing doing a fund-raising dinner. I’ll make an appointment with Elise and see what she would charge to cater it and ask her some questions at the same time.”
They each had their assignments. As usual, the well-oiled machine known as the Silver Sentinels had come together with a plan. I was relieved to see action could take place so fast.
“Thank you for jumping in so quickly. I’ll let Daniel know what’s planned.”
I pulled the charts from the wall and rolled them up. “I’m spending the afternoon doing three of the events. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open. I’ll be looking through a different lens with Daniel being in danger.”
“Good idea, my dear,” the Professor said. “A different perspective can often lead to new discoveries.”
I tucked the charts at the back of the cupboard. “I can’t imagine any reason for the people we’ve mentioned to come into this room, but to be safe, I’ll put our ideas out of sight. You know where they are if you meet without me.”
“You can never be too careful,” the Professor said. “Everyone, please remember our gathering tonight at my place to spend some time with Timothy and Clarence. Mary and Gertie, I’ll pick you up as discussed.”
Gertie stood and picked up her cane. “Thank you, Professor.”
The Professor looked at me. “Scott is coming to the party. I spoke with him today, and he mentioned you’d be having dinner with him tonight. Helen’s making a pecan pie for me. I’m happy to pick up the ice cream when I come for the pie this afternoon. That will save you from having to come back here.”
“Ohhh…dinner with Scott.” Mary breathed the words more than spoke them.
My face heated. It isn’t a date, I started to say. But actually, it was.
I busied myself straightening the room. “Thanks, Professor. I’ll take you up on that.”
They took the dishes and beverages to the kitchen and gathered up their belongings, chatting about how eager they were to get to their tasks. I picked up the bread from Gertie and went to my living quarters. I tucked the bread away and changed for the horseback riding portion of the day.
The idea that the natural inclination for people might be to think Daniel killed Ned to protect Allie was frightening. Even if it was understandable, it was still murder and Daniel would pay a heavy price if found guilty. He might be arrested because of what could be perceived as the strongest motive—along with his threat, written in Ned’s handwriting.
I shuddered. Being behind bars and away from Allie and the outdoors would kill him. And once he was put in jail, would he ever get out? Jail brought dangers all its own. I gritted my teeth. I’d be asking questions this afternoon, and a lot of them.
Chapter 11
Helen was bending over the granite-topped kitchen counter focused on what looked like ornate pearl brooches. Had she taken up jewelry making? I went over to see what she was working on. On closer inspection, I realized they weren’t pins, they were cookies. And what amazing cookies they were! No wonder the kitchen smelled so heavenly.
The ones I looked at had rows of white frosting in small intricate patterns, their centers filled with what appeared to be pink and white pearls. A miniature rose rested on green leaves off to one side of the palm-sized cookies. A variety of ingredients and unusual tools had been neatly arranged on the counter. Jars labeled luster dust had gold, bronze, and pink powder in them. A large container of meringue powder sat next to a marker of edible ink.
“Helen, I’ve never seen anything like these. How do you do it?”
Helen straightened and put down the pastry bag she’d been holding. “You buy what you need and then you practice, practice, practice.”
“I thought they were pieces of jewelry at first.”
“I’ve been hired to prepare cookies for a Victorian tea party in a couple of months, and I thought it would be fun to try something new. I took a few online courses. I’m making these for the church bazaar to sell tomorrow after the contest.”
“And I’m making these,” Tommy piped up from the work area.
I looked over at the dining table and saw Tommy, with Fred as an interested audience. The basset hound had an ear-to-ear smile on his face and his wagging tail was in overdrive.
I went around the counter and looked at Tommy’s project. Here were cookies as well, but these were shaped like dogs. Not surprisingly, most of them looked like Fred, but one had big ears and a tiny body. A pink icing collar around her throat made me figure I was looking at a version of Princess.
Tommy picked up one of several brushes on a plate. “Mom asked if I wanted to decorate dog-shaped cookies, and I said yes. It’s fun!”
Helen had come over to observe his work. “These are for people. I found recipes for dog cookies and safe decorating ingredients, and I’ve been experimenting with those. That’ll be the next project. Fred’s been giving me feedback.”
That explained Fred’s happy dem
eanor.
Bowls of icing were lined up on both sides of the cookies Tommy was decorating. Starting with white, the containers had progressively darker shades of brown, with black at the end. One dish filled with pink frosting had been placed over to the side.
“Mom and I are going into business together.” He started putting eyes on a Fred cookie. “I’m going to donate all my money to the local animal shelter.”
Helen bent over and hugged him. “One of the women I made a cake for wanted to have some lessons. In return, she’s creating a website for me. The baking is a perfect fit for the time off I have in the afternoon.”
Tommy piped up. “I’m going to have a mixed breed bag. Mom says it’ll be a baker’s dozen. And people can also choose to have special ones made up in the shape of their dogs.”
I picked up one of the metal cutters on the table, being careful to not let the Chihuahua’s sharp ear prick my finger. “Who makes these cookie cutters? They’re so clever.”
Tommy put his finished cookie on a tray. “Daniel. He said he’d make any breed I wanted.”
Daniel. My lighthearted moment came to a screeching end. Time to leave.
“Your cookies look fantastic.” I tried to keep my voice upbeat. “I’m off to my next event. See you later.”
Tommy’s business would come to an end before it began if Daniel landed in jail.
I parked the truck at the contest meeting place and walked to where a row of horses had been tied to a long trailer. One of them had a white rump with different-sized black spots covering it. I hoped it was the leopard Appaloosa I had ridden once before.
I approached a tall, rangy young man. “I’m Kelly Jackson, and I’m registered for this event.”
“Hi, there. Diane saw your name on the list and had us bring Nezi for you.”
“Great!”
Diane, the owner of the stable, and I planned on getting together for a ride as well as planning a horseback-riding event that included Redwood Cove Bed-and-Breakfast. I hoped we’d be able to do that soon. I gave a sigh of pleasure at my new career. The joy dissipated when I saw Daniel in the distance. I focused my thoughts on how I could help him. For a start, I’d question the cowboys when we got to our destination and see if they knew anything.
Murder at the Mushroom Festival Page 7