The Pumpkin Muffin Murder (31 page)

Barbara didn’t know that she had it backward about which of the Powells was in poor health, either. That had to mean something, Phyllis told herself.

Before she could puzzle out what it was, more mourners began to arrive. Not surprisingly, Jenna, Taryn, and Kendra were together. They filed into the same row where Phyllis, Eve, and the Loomises were sitting, and with a solemn smile, Jenna asked, “Can we join you?”

Ben stood up. “Why don’t you ladies sit together?” he suggested. “I’ll just move farther back.”

“Oh, no, Ben,” Barbara said quickly. “That’s not necessary.”

“I think it is,” he said, clearly struggling to keep a curt note out of his voice. He waved a big hand toward the bench. “Ladies.”

The other three teachers moved past him and sat down. If Phyllis had had any doubts about there being problems between the Loomises, they were gone now.

As soon as Kendra sat down, she took a handkerchief from her purse and began dabbing at her eyes. Phyllis saw how she kept looking at the closed casket sitting in front of the altar at the front of the chapel.

She wasn’t the only one, though. Taryn and Jenna were staring at Logan’s casket as well. It was difficult
not
to look at the casket when you were at a funeral, Phyllis thought, but the three teachers—four if you counted Barbara, who was also starting to look teary eyed—seemed to be regarding it with more than the usual intensity. It was almost like they had come not to support Dana in her grief . . .

But to say good-bye to Logan Powell.

Phyllis closed her eyes. The thoughts that began to whirl through her head were insane, and she knew it. Carolyn had said a couple of days earlier that if Phyllis was going to suspect Barbara of having an affair with Logan, she might as well suspect every teacher in the school.

Not
every
teacher, Phyllis thought now. But maybe four in particular.

On the other hand, suppose that wild theory was right. Phyllis had just come up with even more reason for Dana to hate her husband enough to kill him. It would have been bad enough if Logan was playing around with one of her close friends. But all four of them . . . ?

That would be enough to drive some women to murder, all right.

And if Dana really had killed Logan on Friday night, what better way to try to throw suspicion off herself than to show up at the park on Saturday morning looking for him and acting scared that something had happened to him? It hadn’t worked, of course, but it was the sort of thing that someone might think, especially someone desperate with guilt. The more Phyllis turned everything over in her mind, the more it all fit.

But if it was true, then wasn’t it possible that sooner or later Dana might try to strike back against the women who had befriended her and then betrayed her? Phyllis caught her breath as she looked along the line of grieving teachers. All four of them might be in danger.

She couldn’t very well warn them in the middle of a funeral, though, and the service was about to get under way. The music had just gotten louder. Sad-faced men and women filed in from a side door and took their places on one of the front benches reserved for family. Those would be Logan’s relatives, Phyllis thought.

A moment later, the funeral director brought Dana and Carolyn in. Phyllis saw the angry, suspicious glances that Logan’s relatives directed toward Dana. They probably didn’t know many of the details of the case, only that Logan was dead and Dana had been arrested for his murder. Yet here she was, out of jail and at his funeral. No wonder they felt considerable resentment.

The chapel was only about half full as the service started with a prayer. Phyllis recognized some of the mourners as teachers, while others were probably business associates of Logan’s. Dana and Logan weren’t regular churchgoers, but like Carolyn, they were members of one of the local Methodist churches, so the pastor from there conducted the service. There was no such thing as a “good” funeral, Phyllis supposed, but this one was more awkward and uncomfortable than most because of the circumstances.

It was made even more so for her by the speculation that filled her mind. Maybe Logan really had been a womanizing, philandering snake. That just gave his wife more of a reason to want him dead. And there was no getting around the fact that Dana was the only one who knew that switching his regular peppermints for sugar-free ones would probably kill him.

Even though she felt terrible about it, Phyllis resolved to keep a very close eye on Dana while the woman was staying at her house. She almost wished now that she hadn’t agreed to it.

The funeral service really wasn’t very long, but it seemed interminable. Finally it was over, though. Dana must have requested that the casket not be opened for a last look, because it remained closed. Everyone filed out to get in their cars and drive to the cemetery for the graveside service. Dana and Carolyn rode in the funeral director’s car, directly behind the hearse, and Phyllis’s car was the third one in the procession.

The clouds had continued their gray march across the heavens while the funeral was going on. Phyllis had to turn the windshield wipers on once to clear mist off the glass, but nothing was coming down when they got to the cemetery. The sky continued to threaten, however, so the minister didn’t waste any time once everyone was gathered under the canopy that had been set up next to the open grave. He said a few words thanking everyone who had come, read a scripture, and said a prayer. The pallbearers added their boutonnieres to the flowers arranged on top of the casket, the mourners filed by and shook hands with Dana and with Logan’s relatives—they had kept an empty folding chair between her and them, and her eyes were turned straight ahead and never wavered—and then it was finished. People scattered, heading for their cars.

Carolyn had sat with Phyllis, Eve, and the teachers from Loving Elementary during the graveside service. She stood up and went over to Dana, taking her arm. “We’ll take you back to the house now,” she said quietly.

“Yes. Thank you.” Dana paused, though, and looked over her shoulder toward the casket as it sat on the apparatus that would lower it into the ground when everyone was gone except the cemetery workers. Phyllis tried not to look at the bulldozer that sat unobtrusively about fifty yards away and tried even harder not to think about how it would soon be used.

A long sigh escaped from Dana’s lips. Tears streaked her cheeks. She had cried quietly during both services. Now she turned away from the grave, lowered her head, and allowed Carolyn to lead her back to Phyllis’s car.

Phyllis noticed that Ben Loomis hadn’t come to the cemetery. Either he had gotten a ride with someone else who wasn’t going to attend the graveside service, or else Barbara was going to leave here with one of her friends. The four of them stood there with wet, hollow eyes, waiting near Phyllis’s car. Each of them hugged Dana in turn when she came up to the vehicle. Dana seemed to accept the embraces and return them with gratitude, but Phyllis was no longer quite so sure about that.

Jenna rested both hands on Dana’s shoulders and said, “We’re going to put all of this behind us now, Dana, do you understand? We’ll be at Mrs. Newsom’s tomorrow for Thanksgiving, and we’ll see you there.”

Dana managed to nod. “I wish I could put it all behind me,” she said. “I really do.”

“You can,” Jenna told her. “It may take a while, but you can and you will.”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know anymore.”

Phyllis watched closely. Did Dana suspect that her friends had been involved with Logan? She couldn’t tell. Dana didn’t act like it, but Phyllis had already been forced to consider the idea that Dana was a consummate actress, always keeping her real thoughts and emotions deeply buried.

More drizzle began to fall. “We’d better go,” Phyllis said.

“What time do you want us to show up tomorrow?” Kendra asked.

“Oh, it doesn’t really matter. Carolyn and I are delivering canned goods and turkey dinners in the morning, and the rest of you are, too, I believe. Just come on over whenever you’re finished with that. We should be back by eleven or so, and even if we’re not, my friends Eve Turner and Sam Fletcher will be there.” Sam had offered to help them with the deliveries, but Phyllis didn’t think that was going to be necessary.

Dana was going to go with them, though, Phyllis decided. She was going to keep a very close eye on Dana Powell from here on out.

T
he cold front moved on out of the area Wednesday evening, taking the clouds and drizzle with it. The skies cleared during the night, so Thanksgiving morning was clear and crisp, with blue skies and temperatures in the upper thirties. As Phyllis walked out into her front yard to pick up the paper, fallen leaves rustled and crunched under her feet. All this day really needed to be perfect was the smell of burning leaves in the air, she thought as she took a deep breath, but of course no one burned leaves anymore, and certainly not in the city. It was against the law.

So was murder, but that didn’t stop people from committing it, she thought.

She had still drawn no conclusions about Dana’s guilt or innocence. She wanted to believe that Dana was innocent, but it was hard to get around the pile of evidence saying otherwise. First thing Monday morning, she was going to call Juliette Yorke and tell the lawyer about the NorCenTex Development deal. The sooner that was fully investigated, the better. It might wind up clearing Dana’s name.

Today, though, was all about giving thanks and doing good. Phyllis had gotten up a little earlier than usual to fix breakfast and get the turkeys in the oven. For breakfast she made bacon and eggs with cranapple rolls. The turkeys could cook during the morning while Phyllis, Carolyn, and Dana were delivering canned goods and turkey dinners to the less fortunate.

Sam and Bobby were talking football at the kitchen table over breakfast when Sam bit into one of the hot cranapple rolls and sighed. “Bobby, your grandmother is the best cook in all of Texas.” Then he went back to talking about the Cowboys, who would be playing the Washington Redskins in the traditional Thanksgiving Day contest. “It’s nearly always a good game,” Sam told the little boy. “Sometimes it goes right down to the final play.”

Phyllis enlisted Eve to keep an eye on the turkeys as they cooked. Eve was a little leery of the idea.

“You know I’ve never been much of a cook, Phyllis,” she protested.

“You won’t actually be cooking anything,” Phyllis said. “Just make sure they don’t start to burn. They shouldn’t.”

“But what if they do?”

“Take them out,” Carolyn suggested dryly.

“Well . . . all right.” Eve’s reluctance was obvious. “But I have somewhere to go later this morning, so you’d better be back by eleven like you said.”

“You’re going somewhere on Thanksgiving?”

“Yes, but I’ll be back for dinner.”

“All right,” Phyllis said. She didn’t pry. What Eve did was her own business.

Dana wasn’t sure she wanted to go along on the deliveries, but Carolyn wouldn’t take no for an answer. “It’s a beautiful day,” she insisted. “It’ll do you good to get out and about for a little while. Anyway, you devoted a lot of time and effort to preparing for this, Dana, and you deserve to reap some of the rewards.”

“What rewards?” Phyllis asked.

“The smiles of the people we’re helping, of course,” Carolyn said. “Especially the little ones. How can you not feel good about providing a Thanksgiving to remember for them?”

She was absolutely right about that, Phyllis thought. Helping others was just about the best feeling in the world.

Phyllis had told Sam they wouldn’t need his help with the deliveries, but she did accept the loan of his pickup when he offered it. She had driven the truck before, so she wasn’t worried about handling it. It would certainly be easier to load and unload the boxes of canned goods and the boxed turkey dinners from the back of the pickup. Carolyn took her car, too, though, so all three of them woudn’t have to crowd into the front seat of the pickup.

Satisfied that everything was under control and proceeding as it was supposed to at the house, Phyllis headed for the Methodist church with Carolyn and Dana following her. When they got there, they found the place busy as people pulled into the parking lot and backed up to the side door of Fellowship Hall to load the boxes they would soon deliver.

Dolly Williamson was there supervising, of course, standing beside the open door with a clipboard in her hand. Everybody was talking and laughing, and holiday spirit filled the air.

“Good morning,” Dolly greeted them. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving to you, too, Dolly,” Phyllis said. “We’re ready to make our deliveries.”

“You have your list of addresses?”

Carolyn took it from her purse. “Right here. I even looked up the streets I wasn’t familiar with on the Internet.” She sounded proud of herself, and Phyllis thought she had a right to. Carolyn had never been that comfortable navigating her way through the Web.