The Pumpkin Muffin Murder

by Livia J. Washburn

  “Not at all,” Phyllis said quickly, although in truth she hadn’t ruled out that possibility. She needed Barbara as an ally, though, so she tried to smooth the waters by saying, “I was thinking about some of the other people involved in Logan’s business. Do you happen to know, was he a one-man operation, or did he have some associates?”

  Barbara seemed slightly mollified by Phyllis’s explanation. “It was Logan’s business, all the way. He had a secretary and a bookkeeper, but he was the only agent at his firm. He always said that he liked being a lone wolf. That way all the responsibility was his, but so were all the rewards.”

  Phyllis nodded as she filed away that information. The fact that Logan didn’t have a partner who could take over for him or anything like that removed one possible motive and suspect.

  Unfortunately, that brought them right back to Logan and Dana’s marital troubles as the most likely motive for his death.

  “What about Logan’s family? Where was he from? Did you know about all his medical problems and his drinking?”

  “His drinking?” Kendra repeated. “I don’t think I ever saw Logan take a drink.”

  “He always seemed very fit to me,” Jenna said. “What sort of medical problems?”

  Phyllis looked around at them and realized that they didn’t know how Logan had been killed. No one had told them the details of the case, so all they really knew was that Dana had been arrested. Detective Largo had given Phyllis the results of the autopsy and the forensics tests in confidence, and against her better judgment, as she had made clear. Phyllis wasn’t sure she felt comfortable about betraying that confidence, even though she had already done so to a certain extent by bringing up Logan’s medical history.

  “I can’t really say any more . . . ,” she began.

  That brought a chorus of angry objections from the four teachers. “We’re Dana’s best friends,” Jenna declared. “If you know something about how Logan died, you can tell us, Mrs. Newsom.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I don’t want to jeopardize her defense.”

  “Or maybe you just want to make sure that if anybody gets the credit for solving his murder, it’s you,” Barbara said. She clasped her purse tightly and stood up. “I think we should go.”

  “Please don’t,” Phyllis said. “I understand how you feel. It’s not like I’m trying to keep secrets from you. I was told some things in confidence, that’s all. And it might really help if you told me everything you know about Logan.”

  Barbara looked at her friends. Jenna shrugged. Barbara sighed and sat down again. “I probably knew him better than anyone,” she said, “since Ben and I were friends with him and Dana for quite a while.”

  “We just saw Dana, mostly at school,” Taryn put in. “So I never knew that much about Logan.”

  “He talked a lot whenever he was around,” Kendra added, “but he never really seemed to say all that much, if you know what I mean.”

  Phyllis knew, all right. Logan had had a natural saleman’s ability to keep up a conversation. He could run quite a line of bull, as Sam would put it.

  “Logan never revealed that much about himself, even to their friends like Ben and me,” Barbara said. “He would brag about his business, or talk about sports, or almost anything else. I know he grew up somewhere around here. Granbury, I think. He and Dana met while they were both in college at North Texas.”

  Phyllis knew that Barbara was talking about the University of North Texas in Denton, which had been North Texas State University when she went there, and when Dana and Logan did, too.

  “So they were college sweethearts.”

  “Not really,” Barbara said. “They knew each other, but they didn’t start dating until they were in their thirties.” A smile touched her lips. “It seemed to be a good match, though. They were suited for each other. Logan could be a little . . . brash . . . and Dana was just always so sweet, but they got along well.”

  “Dana said she couldn’t have children.”

  “That’s right. She worried that Logan would be disappointed, but I never got the sense that he was.”

  That jibed with what Dana had told Phyllis. She asked a few more questions, standard things like whether or not Logan had any enemies they knew of, or whether there had ever been any serious trouble between Logan and Dana until a couple of nights earlier. None of the four knew anything that looked promising.

  “We’re just spinning our wheels here, aren’t we?” Jenna said suddenly. “There’s not any evidence against anyone else. The police are going to put Dana on trial and convict her.”

  “No!” Barbara said. “There has to be something.” She cast an appealing look toward Phyllis. “Doesn’t there?”

  Phyllis sighed. “Right now, I don’t see anything to cast suspicion on anyone else. But I’m sure Ms. Yorke will dig into Logan’s background, and if there’s anything there, she’ll find it.”

  “What about you?” Carolyn asked. “Does this mean you’re giving up?”

  Phyllis shook her head. “No. I’ll keep digging, too. Maybe it’ll help when I can talk to Dana again.”

  They all looked so downcast that Phyllis wanted to raise their spirits. “I have some pumpkin muffins in the kitchen,” she went on. “I’ll get them.”

  “We really ought to be going . . . ,” Jenna said.

  “Please. Stay and have a muffin.” Phyllis managed to laugh. “If you don’t, my grandson will just try to eat all of them.”

  “All right,” Barbara said with a smile. “I’ve heard that you’re a great baker, Mrs. Newsom.”

  Carolyn cleared her throat, prompting Barbara to add, “And I know you are, Carolyn.”

  Phyllis brought out the muffins and passed them around on small paper plates. Jenna was the only one who turned down a muffin, citing a diet she was on. Phyllis didn’t think Jenna weighed enough to be worrying about a diet, but that was none of her business.

  It reminded her of something, though, and she said, “Were all four of you at the park on Friday night, helping to get ready for the festival?”

  “That’s right,” Barbara said, nodding.

  “Did you happen to see Dana eating a muffin like this?”

  That brought puzzled frowns from all four of them. “I didn’t see her eating anything,” Kendra said.

  “Me, neither,” Taryn agreed.

  “Why do you ask?” Jenna wanted to know.

  “She stopped by here before she went to the park. She had one of the muffins, and I gave her another to take with her. I was just wondering if she got to enjoy it before that argument with Logan broke out.”

  Barbara shook her head. “I have no idea. You’ll have to ask Dana.”

  “Why did she come by here?” Jenna asked.

  Phyllis explained about the missing keys. “I don’t guess she ever found them. She hadn’t when we talked to her yesterday morning, and she hasn’t had a chance to since then.”

  Kendra said, “That’s scary, to think that your house keys are out floating around somewhere.”

  Phyllis nodded. “I’ll say something to Juliette Yorke. The locks ought to be changed on Dana’s house, just to make sure that no one can get in there.”

  Everyone talked about how good the muffins were, and then Phyllis couldn’t think of any other reason to keep them there. They said their good-byes and trooped out, still filled with worry for their friend in jail.

  “That didn’t go well,” Carolyn said when the four teachers were gone. “They didn’t know anything that would help you figure out who really killed Logan. From the sound of it, Dana’s still the only one with any reason to want Logan dead.”

  Phyllis wasn’t sure about that. She wanted to find out more about the NorCenTex Development deal and any possible involvement that Ben Loomis might have in it. It made her uncomfortable to think that she might wind up ferreting out evidence against Barbara’s husband, because she liked Barbara. But she liked Dana, too. And right now, Phyllis’s mai
n interest was in finding out the truth. As Sam had said, she had to proceed like Sherlock Holmes and eliminate the impossible.

  And hope that the only remaining possibility didn’t point straight at Dana.

  Chapter 24

  Despite Sam’s prediction, the Cowboys won their game after all, prompting him to declare that evening that he supposed he wasn’t such a great football prognosticator after all. Bobby seemed to have enjoyed watching the game with him, which was all Phyllis really cared about.

  She was at the computer in the living room at about eight o’clock that night when the phone rang. The caller ID screen told her that Mike was at the other end of the call, two hours earlier in California.

  She hadn’t talked to him since he’d called Friday evening to check on Bobby, so there was a certain amount of eagerness in her voice as she said, “Hello, Mike.”

  “Hi, Mom. How are you?”

  “I’m all right, I suppose.”

  “You suppose?” Mike was quick to pick up on such things. “What does that mean?”

  She laughed. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m fine. There have just been some things going on around here. . . . Not about Bobby, though,” she added quickly, so he wouldn’t worry. “He’s fine. His fever is gone, he’s not complaining about his ear hurting him anymore, and he seems to be having a wonderful time helping me around the house and spending time with Sam.”

  “That sounds great. I know I’ve told you this before, but Sarah and I really appreciate you taking care of him.”

  “How’s Bud doing?” Phyllis hoped that Mike wasn’t calling with bad news.

  “He’s hanging in there. Says he’s looking forward to Thanksgiving dinner.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” Phyllis knew that Sarah’s father wanted to be around for one more Thanksgiving, and if he accomplished that, then maybe he could make it his goal to see another Christmas. Such mental ploys didn’t have any medical reason for being effective, but sometimes the human spirit responded to things that had no medical basis.

  “Now, what’s this about something going on there?” Mike persisted.

  Phyllis sighed. He would have found out what had happened at the Harvest Festival sooner or later, but she would have preferred that it waited until he and Sarah got home. She knew better than to think that she could dodge Mike’s questions, though. He was too good at finding out things, which helped make him such a well-respected law enforcement officer.

  “There was some trouble at the Harvest Festival yesterday,” she said.

  “I’m sure it wasn’t too bad, as long as you didn’t stumble over another dead body.”

  Phyllis didn’t say anything.

  Mike was silent for a moment, too, and when he spoke, his voice had a sharper edge to it. “Mom? You didn’t actually find a body, did you?”

  “Well, I certainly didn’t set out to,” Phyllis replied with a note of exasperation in her own voice. “But then Carolyn and I started to move one of the scarecrows that were set up at the park as decorations, and we discovered that the scarecrow was actually, well, a man who’d been murdered.”

  “A murder victim inside a scarecrow,” Mike said, sounding now as if he were torn between disbelief and resignation. “Of course there was. Are you really all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Phyllis insisted. “It’s not like this is the first time such a thing has happened.”

  “No, unfortunately it’s not. What about Carolyn?”

  “She’s all right. We’re both just worried about the case.”

  “The case?”

  “Of the murdered man. You might have known him, by the way. His name was Logan Powell.”

  “The real estate guy?” Mike sounded surprised now. “Why would anybody want to kill him?”

  “The police have arrested his wife,” Phyllis said. “She’s a teacher.”

  “Which means you and Carolyn probably know her.”

  Mike’s comment wasn’t actually a question, but Phyllis said, “That’s right. Carolyn knows her better than I do, but I’ve been acquainted with her for quite some time. And neither one of us believes that she’s capable of murder.”

  There was a note of genuine alarm in Mike’s voice now as he said, “We’re coming home.”

  “Oh, no!” Phyllis exclaimed. “There’s no need for you to do that. Let Sarah stay there and enjoy Thanksgiving with her dad.”

  “Then she can stay and I’ll come home,” Mike insisted. “I know you, Mom. If you think this lady is innocent but the cops have arrested her for the murder anyway, you’re going to try to prove that she’s not guilty. The only way to do that is to find out who the real killer is.”

  “Juliette Yorke has taken Dana’s case. I’m sure Ms. Yorke will be able to handle things.”

  “She’s good, all right, but I’ve got a hunch that won’t stop you from nosing around yourself.”

  Phyllis looked at the computer monitor in front of her. There on the screen were the results of the search she’d just done for NorCenTex Development.

  “I’m really convinced that Dana Powell is innocent, Mike,” she said. “If there’s anything I can do to help her, I intend to do it. But that’s no reason for you to cut your trip short. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m sure that’s what you thought when you were down at the coast last year, too, and you know what happened there.”

  Phyllis couldn’t dispute that, so she asked, “When were you and Sarah planning to fly back? Next Saturday, right?”

  “Yeah, we thought we’d miss the worst of the holiday travel congestion on Sunday. Of course, that depends to a certain extent on what happens with her dad.”

  “According to Ms. Yorke, nothing is going to happen in the case between now and then except maybe a bail hearing for Dana,” Phyllis said. “So there’s no reason for you to come back early.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Positive.”

  “Well . . . no promises, but tell me about what happened. The full story.”

  For the next half hour, Phyllis did just that, giving Mike every detail she could remember since first becoming involved with Logan and Dana Powell and the preparations for the Harvest Festival. Putting it into words like that gave her a chance to go over all of it again in her mind, but she was disappointed when nothing new sprang out at her. She had hoped she would see some connections she had missed before. When she finished, she had to admit to herself that the evidence was just as damning toward Dana as it had seemed to be starting out.

  Mike must have come to that same conclusion, because he said, “You know that anytime someone is murdered, the spouse is always the first person we look at. There’s a good reason for that.”

  “Yes, of course. And I suppose in most cases the police are right to think that way.”

  “The statistics are pretty overwhelming, actually. Nothing leads to murder as much as love and money, and you have both of those elements in a marriage.” Mike paused. “Although I’ll admit that I’m a little intrigued by this NorCenTex Development connection. I hadn’t heard anything about a mall being built in town.”

  “Neither had I, until this came up,” Phyllis said. “I’ve done some searching on the Internet, and from the looks of it, the company has bought some existing malls in other towns, but they haven’t actually built one before.”

  “So this would be a big deal for them,” Mike mused. “Lots of money involved, more than likely.”

  “I would think so, yes.”

  “That might be worth looking into . . . for Juliette Yorke, though, not you, Mom. And I really shouldn’t say anything else, because the sheriff’s office and the police department are supposed to be on the same side, and I shouldn’t be trying to undermine their case.”

  “Well, I think we should all be on the side of justice,” Phyllis said, “and it’ll be an injustice if Dana Powell is convicted of her husband’s murder.”

  “Not if she did it.”

  Phyllis didn’t sa
y anything. She knew that Mike was right about what he’d just said, but she was stubborn enough to believe that she was right about Dana, too.

  “Tell you what,” he went on after a moment, “I’ll call some of my friends back there on the police force and see what I can find out. Maybe they have some evidence that you don’t know about. If they do, I can’t pass along the details to you, but I can at least tell you for sure that your friend is guilty.”

  “In the opinion of the police. Of course they’re not going to look for anything that contradicts that theory.”

  She felt a surge of anger as she heard him sigh. When you got to be a certain age, your children thought they knew everything again and you knew nothing, just like they did when they were teenagers. She kept herself from making the sharp comment that she wanted to, though.

  “I’ll stay in touch,” Mike said. “You’re right, with Thanksgiving coming up in just a few days, not much is going to get done this week. The bail hearing, maybe the arraignment, that’s about it. I’ll be back by the time the case really starts to get going.”

  “So you’ll stay in California and let Sarah enjoy the time she has left with her dad?”

  “I guess so. If you’ll promise to stay out of trouble.”

  This time she couldn’t hold it in. “Bobby’s your child, Michael, not me.”

  She heard him take a deep breath. “You’re right. Sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  Yes, he had, she thought, but in the interest of keeping the peace, she didn’t say it.

  They said their good-byes instead, and then, feeling vaguely unsettled after she’d hung up the phone, Phyllis went back to the page of hits she’d gotten in response to her NorCenTex Development search. She went to the company’s Web site and got a list of the commercial properties it owned, but the site was lacking in any real information about the company itself beyond a post office box address in Fort Worth, a telephone number, and an e-mail link.