Murder by Mushroom (20 page)

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 recorder.

“—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.”

A
t 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.

“Psst. Jackie.”

Jackie’s step slowed as she approached the corner of the stone building that housed the deli. She surveyed the small parking lot, but she didn’t see anyone.

“Over here.”

From inside a dark blue sedan, Dennis gestured for her to approach. When she drew near, Jackie leaned down to look through the open window and saw Detective Conner in the driver’s seat. He did not wear a smile today. In fact, he was glaring at her.

“What are you doing here, Miss Hoffner?” he demanded. “You’re supposed to be at work.”

“I know.” Jackie looked around with a quick glance. If someone saw her talking to the cops, her cover would be blown for sure. “I couldn’t stand it. Margaret might need my help.”

“Help with what?” Dennis asked. “She looks perfectly capable of eating lunch without assistance.”

Jackie rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. Mrs. Palmer is going to have lunch, period. She’s not going to ask any questions. She’s not going to do anything except eat a sandwich. You know that.”

Yes, Jackie knew the plan they’d hatched last night in Samantha’s hospital room. Though they had enough evidence to pick Laura up for questioning, everyone agreed that was sure to cause a media extravaganza. Better to avoid that until they had solid proof. So Dennis and the detective were to wait until today’s lunch was nearly over and then they would enter Kessler’s through the delivery door in the rear and ask the server to retrieve Laura’s water glass as unobtrusively as possible. They’d decided to wait until the meal was nearly over so as not to cause undue stress to the server, who might give away the scheme with nervous behavior.

Then they would take Laura’s fingerprints from the glass. With luck the prints would match the ones they lifted from the rubber gloves and hoped to lift from the mushroom encyclopedia. Then they would have enough evidence to arrest her.

All morning Jackie had been unable to concentrate on her paperwork. She’d put forth so much effort on this case. After all, her casserole and her car were used to commit the crimes. It wasn’t fair that Margaret got to be there for the grand finale, while she sat stuck behind a desk, going through week-old mail.

She nudged her lower lip out a tiny bit and looked from Dennis to Detective Conner with wide, hopefully innocent looking eyes. “I just want to be there. I can eat a sandwich as well as Margaret. I promise I won’t say anything.”

Conner heaved a resigned sigh. “See that you don’t.”

Dennis watched Jackie disappear around the corner of the building, a feeling of unease churning deep in the pit of his stomach. That girl was too nosy for her own good. Yes, she had led them to the person he firmly believed was the murderer. But Mrs. Watson had killed once and attempted to kill a second time. What if she tried a third time, with Jackie as her target?

“I don’t like it,” he said, staring at the edge of the building.

Conner sighed. “I don’t, either. But short of handcuffing her in the backseat, I don’t see how we could have stopped her.”

Esther and Julie had already arrived and selected a round table near the big picture window to the left of the front door when Jackie entered the restaurant.

“Why, Jackie,” Esther exclaimed when she stepped inside, “I didn’t know you planned to join us today.”

Jackie forced a smile and tried to look normal. The police had arrived after Esther’s departure last night. The older woman knew nothing of the importance of today’s lunch, and Jackie wasn’t about to spill the beans.

“I had such a good time last week I decided to come today, too.”

Julie waved to the server and called across the small room, “Can we pull up another chair? There’s plenty of room.”

At that moment Sylvia came through the door with Audrey Coates. They proclaimed themselves delighted over Jackie’s presence. Just as they were about to be seated, the door opened again.

Laura Watson, wearing an elegant dark blue suit with an immaculate white silk blouse, stepped into the restaurant. Jackie’s heart skipped a beat as she willed her breathing to remain steady.

“Laura, sit here,” she said, indicating the seat beside her. Her voice came out sharper than she intended. The ladies’ heads turned to give her an odd look. “I’ve been…saving it for you,” she finished with a lame smile.

“Why, thank you, Jackie. That’s so sweet of you.”

As Laura hung her handbag over the chair back, Margaret came through the door. She looked nervous. A smile flashed onto her face and disappeared just as quickly. Her eyes darted around the table, stopping when they came to Jackie.

“I thought you were working today.”

Jackie shrugged. “I’ve wanted to try this place. What better way than with a group of friends from church?”

She avoided Margaret’s eyes, aware that the older woman looked as if she wanted to snatch Jackie by the hair and march her out of the restaurant. The others watched the two of them with varying expressions of curiosity.

Jackie picked up a menu and allowed her smile to sweep around the table. “What’s good here?”

“The pork tenderloin sandwich is to die for,” Esther said, peering at her own menu.

“And their coleslaw is the best,” added Laura. “It’s homemade.”

“Turkey and avocado for me.” Julie slapped her menu closed.

The server approached to take their orders, pen poised over a small notepad.

“We need water,” Jackie demanded.

Heads swiveled toward her. Had her voice been a little too loud? She felt jumpy, her nerves stretched to the limit. She took a breath. If she didn’t calm down, she would blow the whole thing.

“I’m parched,” she explained with an apologetic shrug.

They placed their orders, and the server left. Jackie turned in her chair to stare after the woman. She seemed distracted but not necessarily nervous. Obviously Dennis and Conner hadn’t enlisted her help yet.

Within minutes, she returned and set a glass of ice water in front of each of them. They all watched as Jackie picked hers up and drank noisily. She eyed Laura’s glass. The smooth surface would hold a fingerprint perfectly. Good.

“Any word on poor Samantha?” asked Laura.

Jackie’s head jerked toward the elegantly dressed woman. What nerve, running over the girl and then asking about her in that oh so concerned voice. And why wasn’t she drinking her water?

“She’s out of intensive care,” Esther announced. “Looks terrible, but that’s to be expected.”

“She’s barely conscious,” Margaret added quickly. “You can hardly understand a word she says, because she’s drugged.”

Jackie stopped herself in the act of disagreeing when Margaret glanced nervously toward Laura. Of course. Margaret didn’t want Laura to think Samantha was conscious and talking coherently.

Esther, however, was not in on their scheme. She frowned at the pastor’s wife. “I understood her perfectly well.”

“Oh, no,” Jackie insisted. “She’s definitely still foggy. And doesn’t remember a thing before the accident.” She cast a glance sideways. “For weeks and weeks before.”

Margaret caught her eye and gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head.

What? Jackie was only trying to protect the girl from a vicious killer.

One who still had not touched her water glass. Jackie picked up her own glass again. Maybe seeing someone else drink would make Laura thirsty. Her hand shook with nerves as she held the rim to her lips.

“Her poor parents,” said Julie.

“And Vince,” added Audrey. “I’ve never seen him looking so tired. I’m afraid he might make himself sick with worry.”

Jackie drained her glass. Everyone else had at least taken a sip or two, but still Laura made no move to drink her water. What was the woman, a camel?

“My goodness, Jackie,” Laura exclaimed. “You are thirsty.”

She turned, her hand partially raised to signal the server to refill Jackie’s glass. But the server had left the dining room, probably to turn in their orders.

“Here,” Laura said, a gracious smile on her tastefully colored lips, “have mine.”

Time seemed to stumble. As if watching a slow-mo replay on television, Jackie saw Laura’s arm extend. She opened her mouth to protest, but Laura’s hand grasped the glass, all five fingers touching its smooth sides. She picked it up and set it down in front of Jackie.

“I drank a bottle of water in the car on the way here, so I’m not thirsty.”

A tornado spun in her mind. Laura not thirsty? That meant she wouldn’t request another glass of water. And when Detective Conner and Dennis asked for her glass, the server wouldn’t know to give them the one row in front of Jackie.

The one with Laura’s fingerprints on it.

She looked up to see Margaret staring at her across the table through eyes the size of grapefruits. Their plan lay before Jackie in shreds. She had to do something. Something drastic.

She turned a smile on Laura. “Thank you.”

Judging by the sudden creases between Laura’s eyebrows, Jackie failed to make her smile look natural. No time to think about that now. Blood surged in her ears in rhythm to an urgent voice whispering
Hurry, hurry, hurry
in her mind.

Jackie made a show of reaching for her own glass, to move it out of the way. In the process, she bumped the full one hard enough to knock it over. Water sloshed across the table like a tidal wave. Margaret leaped to her feet, and Julie and Esther jerked their chairs backward to avoid being drenched.

“Here,” commanded Esther, taking charge, “give me your napkins.”

Grabbing the cloth napkin draped across her lap, Jackie leaped to her feet. Her chair tumbled backward and crashed to the floor.

“I’ll get more napkins,” she shouted, cringing at the unintended volume.

But instead of tossing her napkin onto the quickly spreading puddle, she covered the now-empty water glass and snatched it up.

“Uh, and more water.”

She whirled and ran in the direction of the kitchen, aware that she had drawn the openmouthed stares of everyone in the restaurant. As she burst through the swinging door that led to the kitchen, she heard Audrey say, “My goodness, she’s an odd girl, isn’t she?”

Equipment and people crowded the small kitchen. Jackie ignored their surprised exclamations as she dashed toward the far wall and the door she spied there, carrying the all-important water glass, its evidence safe beneath her napkin.

Outside in the sunshine, she came to a sudden stop, casting her eyes wildly around the back alley. Deserted. Where were Dennis and Conner?

She took off down the alley at a jog. When she reached the corner of the brick building, her eyes were drawn to the detectives’ car and two figures in the front seat. Yes, there they sat, their heads turned away from her, waiting for the right time to approach the restaurant.

At that moment a voice froze her blood.

Laura’s voice.

“Jackie, where in the world are you going?”

“What does she think she’s doing?”

Dennis followed Conner’s gaze to the back of the parking lot in time to see Jackie screech to a halt on the loose gravel covering the pavement.

“No clue,” he answered. “But what’s that in her hand?”

Conner’s jaw tightened. “Looks like a glass.”

Jackie whirled. Laura had followed her through the restaurant’s back door. Her purse clutched in manicured fingers, the elegant killer advanced at a fast walk.

“Uh, nowhere,” Jackie stammered. “I, uh, just needed some air. It was really hot in there.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

Jackie took a couple of steps backward as Laura drew near.

“Stuffy, then,” she corrected. “I needed to take a walk.”

“You’re acting strangely, Jackie. And what are you doing with my glass?”

Jackie’s mouth dried in an instant. Laura still stood in the shelter of the building. If she could just get her to take another step or two, Dennis and Detective Conner would be able to see her. She edged backward.

“Glass? What do you mean?”

Dennis heaved a frustrated breath. Didn’t that girl understand the concept of a plan?

He reached for the door handle. “I’ll get it from her.”

“No, wait!” The urgency’s in Conner’s whisper stopped him the second before he opened the door. “She’s talking to someone.”

Laura took another step. Jackie faced forward, desperately wanting to look in the direction of the detectives’ car but terrified to do so. What if Laura followed her glance and saw the police waiting in the parking lot? What would she do?

“You figured it out, didn’t you?”

Jackie’s heart leaped into her throat. “Figured what out?”

Laura shook her head slowly, her eyes boring into Jackie’s. “I’m guessing everything. Mrs. Farmer, the teenager, the casserole, the car. Samantha talked, didn’t she? She told you about seeing me at the library.”

One more step. Just one more. Blood roared in Jackie’s ears as she edged backward once again.

“Get down,” Conner muttered.

Dennis mimicked the detective and sank down in the seat. He peeked over the door panel and saw Jackie take a backward step. Her body was so tense she looked as if she might shatter into a million pieces any minute. Her hand trembled violently as it clutched the napkin-draped glass.

An unfamiliar emotion rose up inside him. Jackie looked terrified. And extremely vulnerable.

A woman moved into view, her eyes fixed on Jackie as she took a determined step forward.