Murder by Mushroom (5 page)

Of course, clothes weren’t the only thing the other girls in high school had talked about behind her back. No matter how hard she tried to fit in, Jackie always managed to say something stupid. Once she’d joined a cluster of classmates standing in the hallway outside Mrs. Kavanaugh’s room her sophomore year, talking about some hot guy named Justin Timberlake. Jackie had asked innocently, “Who’s that, a new kid?” Even now, the memory of the looks they turned her way, the rolled eyes, the snickers, made her cringe.

“He’s a lousy singer anyway.”

She sniffled into her pillow. Friendships back then had been too hard to figure out. She got along better with Aunt Betty’s friends. Older people didn’t care if you wore clothes that had gone out of style five years ago.

But Jackie wasn’t a teenager anymore. You’d think at twenty-four she’d be able to make friends with women her own age. There were several at church she could spend time with, if she wanted to. Maybe go to a movie or shopping. Instead, what was she doing? Running over to an eighty-year-old’s house to do a good deed that only got her into trouble.

Irritated at the turn her thoughts had taken, Jackie sat up in bed. She pulled Linus into her lap and stroked his fur until he began to purr.

No matter what Margaret said, her name would be linked to Mrs. Farmer’s death until the police caught the killer. Who would want to hang out with Typhoid Jackie?

“And I know that detective thinks I had something to do with it.”

The memory of his arrogant smile, his direct stare as Trooper Walsh searched her refrigerator made her jaw tighten. Would they even bother looking for other suspects while they wasted time trying to find traces of poisonous mushrooms on her kitchen utensils? Probably not. Even an idiot could see that the poisonous mushrooms had been added after Mrs. Farmer got home with the leftover portion of her casserole. Otherwise they’d have people dropping dead—or at least getting sick—all over the church. But it looked as though the police were going to drag this thing out for months by running tests and chasing false hunches that led to dead ends.

If she was in charge, she’d handle things differently. She’d go visit all the old ladies in the church. They’d talk to her, she was sure of that. Old people liked to talk to young women. In fact, she’d talk to
all
the women in the church, even the younger ones. They’d open up to her like they never would to that conceited detective.

Jackie’s hand stopped midstroke and rested on Linus’s arched back. That wasn’t a bad idea, actually. Women
would
talk to her, would tell her things Detective Conner and Trooper Walsh could never find out. She could probably have this case solved in a matter of days.

But she couldn’t just show up at people’s houses and say,
Excuse me, but do you know who poisoned Mrs. Farmer?
She’d have to lead into it casually. Since she was new to the church, she really didn’t have the kind of relationship with anyone that would allow for a social visit.

But
Margaret
didn’t need an excuse. The pastor’s wife could show up on anyone’s doorstep for a casual chat, and no one would think a thing about it. And if Jackie just happened to tag along…

She jerked the blanket aside and Linus leaped out of her lap as she turned to put her feet on the floor. She’d do it! Somehow she would convince Margaret to help her, and she would track down the killer.

Then, when she had cleared her name, maybe she could even start gossiping about one of those stupid reality shows on television.

“Please, Margaret. You’ve got to help me. I can’t do it without you.”

Jackie stood in the cookie-scented front room of the parsonage later that afternoon, staring into the stunned faces of Pastor Palmer and his wife.

The pastor’s gaze connected with Margaret’s for a second before he spoke to Jackie. “Don’t you think the police are better suited to handle the job?”

Jackie shook her head. “You saw the two who’ve been assigned to the case. That detective obviously doesn’t know what he’s doing, and Trooper Walsh is only on the case to do the detective’s grunt work.”

“Detective Conner seemed capable to me,” Margaret said.

“You didn’t see the way he acted at my apartment. He’s convinced I had something to do with poisoning Mrs. Farmer, and he’s going to spend his time chasing empty leads while the real murderer walks free.”

“But Jackie, you’re not a detective.” Margaret shook her head. “You don’t know anything about solving crimes.”

“True, but I’m a woman and I’m a member of the church. Someone is bound to know who has a grudge against Mrs. Farmer, and I think they’ll tell me.” She gave Margaret what she hoped was an imploring look. “Especially if you’re with me.”

“But what about your job? Visiting people is quite time-consuming.”

“I’ve got some vacation time coming. My boss will let me take a week off, no problem.” She spoke with more confidence than she felt. Her boss was an easygoing guy, and the rules about time off at the state government office were fairly lax, but she would have to do some fast-talking to get permission to take a week off with no notice.

Jackie clasped her hands together and held them up to her chin. “Please, Margaret.”

Margaret threw a helpless look toward Pastor Palmer, whose eyebrows had embedded themselves in his hairline. Jackie watched the silent husband-and-wife communication going on between them. Then Margaret sighed.

“I visit the church shut-ins on Mondays. If you’d like to tag along, I guess that’ll be okay.”

Jackie bounced on her toes, grinning at them both. “Great! Maybe we’ll have this case solved by the end of the week.”

J
ackie slumped behind the steering wheel and watched people file into the church. Yesterday’s confidence had slipped a little. Man, she dreaded going into that place. What if Beverly Sanders stood waiting inside the door? What would she say? Or worse, what if she didn’t say anything at all, but only stared from across the sanctuary, whispering with the other women about Typhoid Jackie?

I’ve got to get a grip. Margaret says they’re not talking about me at all.

But she didn’t believe it, not really. Without a doubt, Mrs. Farmer dying from potluck leftovers was the juiciest piece of gossip this church had heard in years. Of course they would discuss every aspect of the incident, and much as she hated to admit it, Jackie was an aspect.

Still, she wouldn’t accomplish anything by sitting in her car. She had her response ready. She’d practiced all morning. With a sigh, she gathered her purse and umbrella and stepped out, glancing toward the dark cloud cover overhead. Threatening but, for the moment, dry. She picked her way carefully over the gravel parking lot. The glass door opened as her foot touched the concrete sidewalk.

“Good morning,” said a cheery male voice.

Jackie looked into Bob Murphy’s smiling face. He was wearing a name tag identifying him as the day’s greeter. “Hi, Mr. Murphy.”

He leaned through the door to examine the sky. “Think it’ll hold off until we get home?”

“I doubt it.”

“Yeah, me, too. But it’s good for the garden, I suppose.”

Jackie squeezed by him into the church. She almost breathed a sigh of relief when she saw no sign of Beverly Sanders. Instead, Jean Murphy, wearing a name tag identical to her husband’s, stood beside the table with the guest book. If a visitor happened to make their way to HCC this morning, Mrs. Murphy seemed determined to ensure that their presence would be duly recorded.

At the moment, no visitors were in sight. Mrs. Murphy crossed the floor in two steps, her hands held toward Jackie.

“My dear, how awful for you.” She grabbed each of Jackie’s shoulders in a firm grip. “I just can’t imagine how you must feel.”

Inwardly, Jackie winced. But she forced herself to bestow a calm smile on Mrs. Murphy before delivering her rehearsed response.

“It’s terrible,” she agreed. “I’ve hardly slept a wink since the police told me how poor Mrs. Farmer died. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to hurt an old lady like her.”

Mrs. Murphy leaned forward to speak in a low voice. “Well, you know, she wasn’t very well liked in this town.” She cast a quick glance around the empty narthex. “Or even in this church, truth be told.”

Aha! My very first conversation about the case, and I’ve already hit pay dirt!

“Really? But why not? I thought she’d been a member here her whole life.”

“That’s the thing. She knew practically everything about everybody. And she didn’t mind making use of any tidbit of information that came her way, either.”

Mr. Murphy stepped up beside them and laid a hand on his wife’s arm. A look passed between them before he turned a friendly smile on Jackie.

“You’d better get on in there and find a seat. The service will start in a minute or two.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

As Jackie turned toward the open sanctuary doors, she congratulated herself. She hadn’t been here two minutes and already she had discovered a valuable source of information. Before the day was over, she intended to get Mrs. Murphy in a corner and question her further.

From the front of the sanctuary, Pastor Palmer said, “Let’s bow together in prayer.”

Startled, Jackie glanced at her watch. He had, indeed, preached for his usual forty minutes, but she couldn’t remember a thing he’d said. Her mind had been too busy planning her questions for Mrs. Murphy and any other lady who seemed willing to chat about Mrs. Farmer. She bowed her head and whispered an apology to the Lord for ignoring the sermon, ending as Pastor Palmer said, “Amen.”

After four verses of “Beneath the Cross of Jesus,” the congregation slapped their hymnals shut. Jackie gave her full attention to her pastor, who stood holding his Bible and letting his gaze sweep the congregation.

“If you’re on the men’s softball team, Phil has copies of the game schedule and will be in the narthex handing them out, so be sure to see him. Also, don’t forget that we’re starting a new Bible study this Wednesday night, so please come out and join us.”

He paused, and the smile melted from his face. Jackie clenched her fists. Was he going to mention Mrs. Farmer?

“As you all know, a long-time member of our congregation, Alice Farmer, passed away on Tuesday.”

Blood rose slowly to heat her face. Was it her imagination, or had the heads of half the congregation swivelled toward her? She kept her eyes forward, focused on Pastor Palmer.

“Her passing is especially disturbing because it appears as though someone tampered with some food she took home from our church picnic last Sunday. Because of that, I’ve been asked to request that anyone who took leftovers and experienced any sort of stomach upset this week contact Detective Conner of the Kentucky State Police. Detective Conner is here this morning and will be in the back of the sanctuary if you’d like to talk to him.”

Jackie twisted to look behind her. Here? Detective Conner was here, in her own church? He must have come in after the service started, because she would have seen him if he’d been there when she arrived. Sure enough, her eyes were drawn immediately to the unfamiliar sight of a uniformed figure on the back pew. Trooper Walsh. Perhaps drawn by her movement, he looked straight at her and, with a slight shrug, smiled. Her stomach experienced that same tingling sensation it had the day she met him. Flushing, she looked away, to his left. Beside him sat Detective Conner, wearing the same ugly tie he had worn when he came to her apartment. Her face went cold at the hard stare he leveled on her.

She turned her back on him, swallowing hard. The nerve of that man, coming to
her
church! How dare he follow her around like this! Stalking, that’s what it was. Police weren’t allowed to stalk people, were they?

Jackie filled her lungs with a calming breath. On second thought, maybe his presence was good. She needed to tell him of her plans to clear her name by finding the murderer. Maybe they’d even share clues with her, though she doubted it. She’d seen enough television to know that was unlikely.

Pastor Palmer’s voice reclaimed her attention. “…hip surgery, and also Mr. Lewis as he recovers from a broken wrist. And now…” He raised his hand toward the congregation and gave the benediction.

The first person out of her pew, Jackie beelined across the sanctuary toward the place where Jean Murphy stood chatting with Ellen Clarke. As the center aisle filled, Jackie slipped into the pew behind the pair and waited quietly for their conversation to end. When Mrs. Clarke turned away, Mrs. Murphy, wearing an expression of polite inquiry, shifted her focus to Jackie.

Jackie cleared her throat. “Um, Mrs. Murphy, I’ve been thinking about what you said this morning. You know, about people not liking Mrs. Farmer.”

Mrs. Murphy glanced quickly toward the end of the pew, where her husband stood talking to two men. “I really shouldn’t have said that. Bob says I talk too much, and I’m sure he’s right. I don’t want to gossip, you know.”

“Of course not.” Jackie gave her a reassuring smile. “But in this case, with Mrs. Farmer dead and all, any information might be helpful in finding the person responsible. Or,” Jackie went on quickly when Mrs. Murphy’s brow creased with alarm, “in clearing the members of our church of suspicion. I’m sure the police being here this morning means they think someone here knows something.”

“Oh!” Mrs. Murphy paled as her eyes flew toward the back of the sanctuary. “I don’t want to be questioned by the police!”

“Trust me,” Jackie assured her drily, “you don’t. But if you know anything, perhaps you could tell me and if I think it’s important, I’ll pass it along as an anonymous tip.”

“Well…” The woman’s face took on a cautious expression, and she lowered her voice. “I don’t want to cast suspicion on anyone. But it’s no secret that Alice was known for having a…well, a rather judgmental attitude. She was quick to find fault, and she held a grudge.”

“Against who?”

“Practically everyone. With my own ears I’ve heard her criticize everything from the placement of the flowers on the altar to the selection of hymns for the order of service. She even found fault with Pastor Palmer’s audition sermon because he preached on the subject of God’s love instead of calling people to repentance.” Warming to her topic, the woman leaned close, giving Jackie a whiff of stale coffee breath. “She was the single dissenting vote in offering him the job. I’ve even heard her talking about getting up a petition to have him removed. Of course, everyone loves Pastor Palmer, so that would have failed. But that wasn’t always the case.”

Her mouth snapped shut abruptly. Jackie looked into her rounded eyes and prompted, “She was successful sometimes?”

Mrs. Murphy’s gaze dropped. “You really should talk to Esther Hodges if you want to know about that. Anything else I can tell you would just be gossip, since I don’t know firsthand.”

This was exactly the kind of information Jackie had hoped to discover. If she could keep Mrs. Murphy talking she was sure to uncover some more interesting tidbits. But at that moment Mr. Murphy turned away from the cluster of men at the end of the pew and glanced toward his wife, who threw a guilty look in his direction. Jackie flashed him her best smile and spoke in a low voice.

“Thanks, Mrs. Murphy. And don’t worry. I won’t say a word to anyone about our conversation.”

Mrs. Murphy gave her a grateful smile before stooping to collect her raincoat and purse. Jackie slipped out of the pew and headed toward the rear of the sanctuary.

Detective Conner and Trooper Walsh stood alone like lepers, the members of Heritage Community Church making a wide path around them. One glance into Officer Walsh’s face told Jackie he felt conspicuous standing there in his uniform beside the smiling detective. The younger man managed to avoid looking directly into anyone’s face. But as Jackie approached, he locked eyes with her for an instant. Those high cheekbones and long, curling lashes drew attention to hidden depths in his eyes. She noticed a tiny fresh cut along his right jaw where he had nicked himself shaving.

She had to stop feeling like a schoolgirl every time she looked at him. In church, no less! She turned to Detective Conner, her chin high.

“Miss Hoffner.” His head dipped forward in a polite greeting while his eyes remained fixed on her face.

“Detective Conner. Trooper Walsh.” Jackie nodded to each of them. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“And why is that, Miss Hoffner?”

“Because it saves me the trouble of calling you tomorrow. Have you gotten any leads on the case?”

Trooper Walsh opened his mouth to answer, but Detective Conner shook his head. “No one has spoken to us besides Pastor and Mrs. Palmer. Were you going to give me a lead tomorrow?”

“Not a lead. Just some information.” She squared her shoulders. “I wanted to let you know that I’m on the case.”

“On the case?” The detective’s eyebrows arched. Next to him, Trooper Walsh hid a quick smile.

Jackie nodded. “I’m taking the week off work to search for clues, and I wanted to tell you I’ll pass along any helpful information I find. I’m hoping you’ll do the same for me.”

“Miss Hoffner, please don’t do that. I assure you, we are trained in investigations of this kind, and we don’t need help from civilians.”

“But I can get information you can’t,” Jackie argued. “I’m a member of this church. I’m a woman. I’m—”

“Don’t,” he repeated with force. “We’re dealing with someone who has committed murder. We don’t know his or her mental state, but the situation could be dangerous. Just leave things to us.”

“But—”

He held up a hand, and Jackie fell silent. Frustrated, she turned to Trooper Walsh, who shrugged. Couldn’t they see how important it was to her to clear her name? It would be so much easier if she could work with the police. They had experts, crime labs, all sorts of things she couldn’t access. Of course, she knew the police hated having civilians involved in their cases, but she couldn’t stand by and do nothing. She would follow her plan, with or without their help.

Watching her face, Detective Conner’s eyes narrowed. “You’re going to ignore me, aren’t you?”

In answer, Jackie gave him the sweetest smile she could manage.

As their feet crunched across the gravel parking lot, Dennis cast a sidelong glance at Conner. The detective’s jaw bulged from the force of his clenched teeth. Dennis knew the reason without being told.

“She has a point, you know.”

“And what might that be?”

“Women talk to other women.” Dennis lifted a shoulder. “They sure didn’t talk to us today.”

It was true. The entire congregation had ignored them, except for Jackie and the Palmers. If Dennis hadn’t seen the members greeting one another, he would have assumed Heritage Community Church was the most unfriendly church in town. But a uniform and a badge had apparently frozen some of their tongues to the roofs of their mouths. He might have gotten a different reception as a real visitor instead of an investigating police officer.

Actually, for a while he had almost forgot he was on duty. Pastor Palmer preached a good message in a compelling style. This place reminded him of his own church in Lexington, where he still attended with his mom and dad every Sunday he didn’t have to work. He’d never really considered finding a place to worship here in Versailles, because the fifteen-minute drive to Lexington was an easy one. But Heritage Community Church might just change his mind.

Except, he reminded himself, someone there was probably a murderer.

“We can’t afford to have that girl messing around in our case, Walsh.” Conner shook his head. “I’ve seen it before. She’s NBT.”

Dennis cocked his head. “NBT?”