Murder at the Mushroom Festival

by Janet Finsilver

  “Okay.” Timothy slumped in the chair.

  “There’s an empty lot across the street,” the Professor said to me.

  “Got it.” I went to retrieve my coat from the closet.

  The Professor picked up the ice cream, entered a room bordering the living area, and flipped on a light. I saw the kitchen with a counter separating it from the living room.

  The Professor opened the freezer. “I’ll take you ladies home as I promised as soon as Max and Timothy are settled.”

  “I can drive them,” Scott volunteered. “I have the company Mercedes, and there’s plenty of room for people and pies.”

  “I greatly appreciate that, Scott,” the Professor replied.

  Mary put the dog purse on the floor and took Princess out. “Stretch your legs a bit, baby. We’ll be leaving soon.”

  “Let’s pack up the pies,” Gertie said.

  Everyone began moving. Mary and Gertie retrieved boxes they’d used to transport the pies. Ivan cleared the table, and Rudy rinsed the dishes.

  Princess acted the true Chihuahua and went over to check out the much bigger Max. Their difference in size seemed to mean nothing to her. Max gave her a lazy wag of greeting. Princess did a tentative nose touch. That completed, she went back and lay down next to her carrier.

  Scott helped the women arrange the pies in the boxes and secure them in place with small air bags Gertie had brought so they wouldn’t move around.

  “Good thinking to bring the packing supplies, Gertie,” Scott said.

  Gertie closed the lid on a box. “I always save them when I get catalog orders. Reuse whenever possible, I always say.”

  Scott took the pies out to the car one at a time as Gertie and Mary finished packaging them.

  I picked up Max’s leash next to his bed and bent down to pet him. His soft curls were warm from the fire. I clipped on his leash and encouraged the sleepy dog to get up. It took several tries, but finally, with a loud groan, he complied. I saw a large flashlight next to the back door. We had one at the inn in a similar location, always ready for a power failure. I picked it up and turned it on as we stepped outside.

  Moonlight flooded the vacant land. A thin wisp of fog snaked its way across the beam of my flashlight, twisting and curling, pushed on its way by the salty ocean breeze. Max’s golden hair blended with the tall stalks of dry grass. There were no signs of foxtails that could harm him, so I let him roam on the long leash.

  As Max went about investigating, I thought about what had happened to Clarence. Had one of the mushroom distributors made a mistake? If not that, then how did it happen? Could it be possible someone did it on purpose? But why Clarence, the man of many laughs? If it was intentional, had someone tried to kill him?

  A mature row of pampas grass lined one side of the area. The fog slithered through the bushy tops of the plants and swirled around me. I felt chilled to the bone as if encased in an icy shroud. Was it from the night air or the emotional coldness of a killer reaching out to ensnare me in its venomous depravity?

  Chapter 17

  When I returned to the inn, the work area was empty and the kitchen light was on. I walked in there and saw a note on the counter. It was from Elise telling Helen and me she’d be by at one thirty tomorrow to pick up the rest of her equipment.

  The parlor was quiet and warm, with a few red embers glowing in the fireplace. Helen had cleared away the evening appetizers and wine and kept the fire going, a job I usually did. With the parties I was attending both Friday and Saturday night, Helen was covering my part. I’d agreed to do full duty Sunday and Monday in return. We had a comfortable working relationship—one I really enjoyed.

  I locked up for the night and went to my quarters, ready to call it a day. I texted Phil, Andy, and Daniel about tomorrow’s meeting and turned out the lights. What would tomorrow bring?

  The next morning I checked my phone for messages and received the welcome news Clarence was out of intensive care. Now that he was coherent, Timothy had asked him if he’d eaten any of the mushrooms he’d picked. Clarence came back with the same answer he’d given last night—no. I readied myself for the day and went to the work area.

  As I entered, Helen took a bag of mushrooms from the refrigerator. The smell of frying bacon reminded me of our ranch breakfasts. A bowl of eggs, an evenly browned homemade loaf of bread, a plate of chopped herbs, and another one with a mound of spinach rested on the kitchen counter.

  “That looks like a Deputy Stanton breakfast,” I said as I poured myself a cup of coffee.

  “It is.” She began cleaning the fungi with a small brush. “It’s my way of thanking him for helping Tommy with his science project.”

  “It’s nice he’s been doing that. I can tell how excited Tommy is when he’s here.”

  “With the cancer, my husband wasn’t able to do many father-son activities with Tommy. Daniel and Bill have been able to bring some of that into his life.” Helen checked the bacon. “I understand someone became ill at Elise’s dinner last night.”

  “Yes, Clarence Norton, the friend of Timothy, the Professor’s brother. Luckily, it appears he’s going to be all right.”

  “That’s good news. I wonder how it happened.”

  “No one knows yet. We didn’t have a pie party as planned, since it was for Timothy and Clarence. We sampled desserts and went home. How was the book fair?”

  Helen put butter and jam on the counter. “It was a lot of fun. Jamie from the Ridley House took care of the parlor for an hour for me. The school had an area where people could swap books, as well as lots of used ones for sale.”

  “Did Tommy and Allie find anything?”

  “Tommy cleaned out all the dog books. He wasn’t willing to swap any of his. I’m guessing he spent all the money he saved from his allowance.”

  “An investment in books sounds like a good idea to me.”

  “I agree.” Helen began slicing the mushrooms. “Allie added a few horse books to her collection.”

  “Is it okay if I cut off a couple of pieces of bread from that wonderful looking loaf?”

  “Of course. Help yourself.”

  “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if you had plans for it.”

  “It’s for our breakfast. It’s a new honey wheat-germ recipe I’m trying out.”

  I sliced off a couple of pieces and put them in the toaster. I retrieved the organic chunky peanut butter and a jar of Gertie’s homemade blackberry preserves from the refrigerator.

  Helen placed the mushrooms in a frying pan with melted butter in it. After stirring them, she reached for a bottle of dry sherry I’d noticed on the counter and added a splash of it.

  “I’ve seen my mom sauté mushrooms, but she never added wine. Why the sherry?”

  “The alcohol burns off and gives the mushrooms a unique flavor.”

  A nugget of cooking information. Maybe I could impress Scott with it.

  I blinked.

  Impress Scott? Where did that thought come from? Am I beginning to let the gate to my emotions open a bit?

  “I’m getting everything ready ahead of time because Bill can’t stay today. Too busy. I talked him into breakfast.”

  I didn’t really know anything about Deputy Stanton’s personal life. My curiosity was piqued.

  I poured myself a cup of coffee. “Does Deputy Stanton have any kids?”

  “No. He never married. Said he kept putting his job first and it never happened…and he never found the right person.” She flipped the sizzling bacon in the frying pan. “I think it’s been good for him to have the interaction with Tommy and not think about his job for a bit.”

  “Makes sense,” I said.

  My toast popped up, and I began slathering on the toppings. I took a bite of the hearty bread, peanut butter, and preserves. It was a delicious combination, highlighted by a sip of the dark, stron
g coffee.

  Helen placed the bacon on a plate covered with paper towels to drain. “It’s had the additional advantage in that the kids at school are teasing Tommy less. They know Bill is working with him.”

  A police car drove in and the sturdy frame of Deputy Stanton emerged. He saw me through the back-door window, and I waved him in. Cowboy hat in hand, he entered.

  “Hello, Ms. Jackson. Helen.” He sat at the counter separating the kitchen from the work area. “Something smells really good.”

  “There’s a spinach and mushroom omelet on the way. Seemed appropriate with all the mushroom-themed activities taking place.” She cracked an egg and opened it into a small bowl, checked for any eggshell fragments, then slipped it into a larger bowl. “I read your text about not being able to stay long. This will be ready in a few minutes.”

  “Sorry I can’t work with Tommy today.”

  “He understands.” She frowned and looked toward the door. “He should be here. I wonder where he is?”

  I glanced out the back window. “Considering the number of times I’ve seen him rolling on the lawn in front of your cottage with Fred watching, I think he’s still trying to teach him to roll over.”

  Helen shook her head. “Tommy’s the one who’s gotten good at that trick.”

  “You have your hands full. Do you want me to call him?”

  “Please.”

  I opened the back door. “Tommy, time for breakfast. Your mom wants you to come in now.”

  “Okay, Miss Kelly. We’ll be there in a minute.”

  I liked the informality of the area and encouraged people to call me by my first name. I hadn’t done that with Deputy Sheriff Stanton as yet. My dealings with him had involved police business and, at the time, I was a temporary replacement. However, I wasn’t temporary anymore, so maybe it was time for a change.

  I sat next to the deputy with my breakfast. “Deputy Sheriff Stanton, now that I’m the permanent manager here and working my way up the long ladder to being considered a local, how about calling me Kelly?”

  He eyed me for a minute. “Becoming a local, huh? You know that takes years.”

  “Well, I have officially started.”

  “Fair enough. Please call me Bill.”

  I grinned at him. “You’re sure you don’t want me to call you William, like Gertie does?”

  “That’s a privilege only my fifth-grade teacher, Gertrude Plumber, has the right to use.”

  We both laughed.

  “I understand there was an accidental poisoning here last night,” the officer said.

  “Yes, Clarence Norton, a friend of the Professor’s brother. I received a text this morning that he’s been moved out of intensive care.”

  “Good to hear. You have to be careful with mushrooms. Some of those LBMs can make you really sick.”

  “I know what LBBs are—little brown birds—from my birding friends. What are LBMs?”

  “Same idea. Little brown mushrooms. There are a lot of different varieties, all looking pretty much the same with only minor differences, and some are poisonous.” He sipped the coffee Helen had placed in front of him. “Speaking of the Professor, I’m guessing, with Daniel being questioned, you and your senior crime-solving buddies are checking into the murder of Ned Blaine.”

  “We are.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at me. “And, of course, you’ll tell me if you find out anything important.”

  “Right.” Was this the time to mention Elise’s blackmail comment and Peter’s veiled threat? “Actually, there are a couple of things to share. I—”

  The short-legged dog and the towheaded boy known as the Fred and Tommy duo bounded into the room.

  “Hi, Deputy Stanton,” Tommy said, with his outdoor voice still working.

  “Tommy, quieter please,” Helen admonished him.

  “Okay, Mom.” He sat in front of the bowl of cereal his mom had put out.

  She put a plate in front of the deputy. An omelet garnished with mushrooms and fresh herbs rested on it, along with bacon strips on both sides, and two slices of toast cut on the diagonal.

  Stanton sighed, this one a sound of pleasure instead of his usual tired exhalations. “Looks wonderful.”

  A little pink colored Helen’s cheeks. “There’s more toast if you want it.”

  Stanton started eating, then turned to Tommy. “Where are you with your project?”

  Tommy began his over-the-top detailed description, as he was wont to do.

  I finished my last bit of toast. “I’ll go pick up the breakfast baskets.”

  “Thanks, Kelly.” Helen sat on the stool I’d vacated, with her own breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs.

  It took several trips to collect the woven baskets with the red checked dishtowels covering the top, which had been filled with breakfast foods for the guests. There were only crumbs left of Helen’s blueberry muffins and a little juice in the bowls that had been filled with fresh fruit. By the time I was done, Stanton was just finishing his last bite.

  Tommy slid off his stool. “I know you can’t stay and help me today. I understand. And the project isn’t due for another three weeks.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be able to help you before then,” Stanton said.

  “I made something for you. I’ll be right back.” Tommy rushed out, with Fred on his heels.

  The officer turned to me. “Ms. Jacks…Kelly, you started to say something when Tommy joined us.”

  “Right. I had an encounter with—”

  Once again I got cut off as the officer’s phone rang. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and answered. “What’s up?”

  I tuned the conversation out and helped unload baskets while Helen worked on the dishes.

  Stanton slid his phone back into his pocket. “There’s an interesting turn of events regarding the poisoning.”

  I perked up.

  “One of the deputies just got off the phone with Elise Jenkins. She says what’s left of the salad the poisoned man ate is in the refrigerator and the mushrooms in it were not put there by her. She used a different type.”

  I opened the refrigerator door and saw a salad at the far back. Elise had pretty much hermetically sealed it by putting several layers of plastic wrap over the whole dish.

  I retrieved it and placed it in front of Stanton. “Why did she wait until now to call you? Why not last night?”

  “She said her son had been helping her at the beginning of the meal. He’d left before the man became ill. She wanted to check with him to be sure he hadn’t accidentally added mushrooms to the salad. He was out late last night, and she didn’t get a chance to ask him until this morning.”

  We stared at the now-wilted salad. I could see several innocent-looking pieces of brown mushroom.

  “Did anyone else get sick?” Deputy Stanton asked.

  “Not to my knowledge,” I said. “I saw some of the people who attended the dinner when I collected baskets. They seemed fine.”

  “Could Clarence have put them in there? Maybe wanting to eat some he’d found?”

  “Timothy said he told them no last night. But he wasn’t clearheaded at the time. In the text this morning, Timothy said he asked Clarence again and he said he didn’t add anything.”

  If Elise didn’t put mushrooms in there, that means someone else did. Did someone intentionally poison Clarence? What other reason can there be? Sabotaging Elise’s class? Why?

  “How would someone know which salad was Clarence’s, if he was the target?” Stanton asked.

  “His salad dish was separate from the others, with his name on it. He’s diabetic and his dressing was on the side,” I replied.

  Stanton stood. “Helen, thanks for the wonderful breakfast. It’ll help me through what I’m sure is going to be a long day.”

  I went and got a
bag and put the salad in it.

  The deputy turned to me. “Ms. Jac…Kelly.” He smiled. “That’s going to take some getting used to. Unless you have something earth-shattering, like the name of the killer to tell me from your group’s investigation, it’ll have to wait while I get this to the lab.”

  “No names yet. We’re meeting at noon, and there might be more information by then.”

  Tommy ran in and did a practice long slide on a section of the wooden floor, coming to an abrupt stop at the counter. Fred plowed into him and then plopped down.

  He held up a bag of cookies for Deputy Stanton to see. “I made these for you.”

  They were Fred cookies. Tommy even had the spots in the right areas.

  He bolted to a drawer in the kitchen and pulled out plastic gloves, like I’d seen bakers use. Helen had trained him well. Tommy dug into the bag. They were all Fred, except for one.

  “I wanted to show you this cookie.” He pulled out the object of his search. “This is Fred’s friend, Princess. I didn’t want her feelings to be hurt so I made a bunch to look like her. I’m going to give them to her owner.”

  He held a Chihuahua cookie with pink icing and a sparkling collar.

  Helen said, “I made the cookies, but Tommy did all the decorating. That glitter is edible.”

  Stanton took the Princess cookie and pulled out one of Fred. “Tommy, you’re really talented. I’d recognize Fred anywhere.”

  A loud tail-on-floor thumping let us know Fred had heard his name.

  The deputy placed the cookies back in the bag. “Thanks, Tommy. This will definitely help me through the day, too.”

  Daniel walked in, holding a box. We’d been so busy I hadn’t noticed his arrival. But this wasn’t the Daniel I was used to seeing. There was no cheerful greeting or wide smile. His face was expressionless.

  He inclined his head toward the officer. “Deputy Stanton.”

  “Good morning, Daniel,” Stanton responded.

  “Kelly, here’s the rest of the order we were waiting on.” He placed the box on the floor next to the back door.

  “Thanks, Daniel.”