Murder by Mushroom (18 page)

Time to cut this interview short.

“Speaking of my investigation,” Dennis said, “I’ve got to get going. Lots to do, you know. It was nice to meet you, Kelly Jean.”

“You, too.” She risked another quick smile in his direction. Dennis got the impression she was relieved to have the awkward introduction over. Not as relieved as he was.

Deep furrows appeared between Mom’s eyebrows, but he ignored them and stepped forward to place a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He headed toward his car as a huge rush of relief washed over him. What had his mother been thinking? That girl was so shy she couldn’t even look at him. Not his type at all. He preferred a woman with a little spunk. Someone like—

Dennis shook his head. What was the matter with him? Jackie Hoffner was not his type at all. She was far too bullheaded.

“That was a close call,” Dad said, falling in beside him. “Your mother was planning to invite you both to lunch. You got out just in time.” His chest vibrated with a chuckle.

“I was afraid something like that was about to happen.”

“Might still.” Startled, Dennis cast a quick look at his dad, who shrugged. “When your mother gets her mind set on something, you have to pull her off it with a winch.”

“Yet you’ve managed to live with her all these years,” Dennis said, his thoughts whirling. Why had he never noticed how…determined Mom was? Dad was right. If she wanted to do something, she didn’t let anything stand in her way. She’d always been that way.

Dad shrugged. “She keeps life interesting. Never a dull moment.”

His smile said it all. That was the look Dennis had seen all through his boyhood, one that proclaimed, “This is real. This lasts. I love this woman.”

Even if she was bullheaded.

“Hello, Jackie.” Lucy McKinley, seated behind the library’s front desk, looked at her over the top of a pair of half glasses. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy the past week or so,” Jackie said with a smile of greeting.

“We got some new books in a few days ago, and there are a couple I think you’ll like on the New Arrivals shelf.”

“Great, thanks.”

Jackie went to the row of computers and opened the online catalog. She typed in the word
mushroom
and clicked the search button. The computer returned a list of five titles. Three were fiction, but the last on the list looked like exactly what she needed:
The Mushroom Identifier, an Illustrated Encyclopedia.
The status was listed as available. A stack of scrap paper and a short pencil lay beside the computer, and Jackie jotted down the call number.

She made her way through the 500 aisle, scanning the numbers until she came to the right place. The book was not there. A quick search of the surrounding shelves turned up nothing.

Her pulse picked up speed as her mind ticked through reasons the book might be missing. Maybe Lucy or one of the other librarians had shelved it in the wrong place. Or maybe the computer was wrong, and someone had checked it out. But who?

She stopped. The murderer, that’s who. More than likely, he’d just taken it. Of course, a killer wouldn’t want a record of his research on file at the public library.

Her jog up to the front desk drew curious stares from a couple of patrons. She ignored them.

“Lucy, can you check something for me?”

Lucy looked up from her book. “Sure. What is it?”

“This.” Jackie slid the paper across the desk. “The computer says it’s available but I can’t find it.”

“Well, let’s see.” Bright pink fingernails flew across the keyboard. Lucy’s brow puckered. “Mushrooms, huh? The police called earlier in the week to ask about books on mushrooms. I checked the catalog then and told the officer this book was available. It should be there. Are you sure it isn’t?”

“I’m sure.” Jackie tried to sound casual. “Maybe someone has it. Can you see the last time it was checked out?”

Lucy’s mouse clicked. “That book hasn’t been checked out in over five years, nor have any other books about mushrooms. I told the police that, too.” Her brow creased. “I don’t understand. The book should be on the shelf.”

“Has someone asked for it recently? Maybe they walked out with it by accident.”

“No.” Lucy shook her head. “I don’t remember anyone asking about mushrooms except that police officer. It has to be there. I’m sure you just missed it.”

She rose, and Jackie followed her back to the 500 aisle where they both conducted a thorough search.

The mushroom encyclopedia was nowhere to be found.

The moment she got home, Jackie ran for the phone. Her fingers shook as she punched in Dennis’s number. This information was too important to leave on voice mail.

“Hello, Hoffner J,” he said when he picked up the phone on the third ring. “What are you up to this beautiful Sunday afternoon?”

It always threw Jackie when someone knew her name before she identified herself. She did not have caller ID, but everyone else in the world seemed to.

“You’re not going to believe what I found out,” she blurted.

She told him about her trek through the woods and her visit to the library.

“You went wandering in those woods alone?” Dennis sounded angry. “That was stupid, Jackie.”

Sudden heat made her go damp under the collar of her T-shirt. “Did you just call me stupid?”

He ignored her question. “What were you thinking? There’s a killer running around town, and apparently he knows you because he’s trying to frame you for his crimes. You know he’s familiar with those woods. What if he followed you? He could make short work of you back there without a single witness.”

Fuming, Jackie drew herself up. “Well, excuse me, Trooper Walsh. I thought you might be interested in what I found.”

“So a book’s missing. So what? Unless someone saw who stole it, that doesn’t do us any good.”

Did she have to spell it out for him? “You could search people’s houses. If you find the book, you’ll have proof.”

“And whose house would you suggest we search?”

“Esther Hodges,” Jackie shot back. She told him about the message she’d left earlier for Detective Conner. Dennis did not sound impressed.

“That woman is not a killer anymore than you are. And besides, that’s a really common place to hide a spare key. Anyone could have found it there.”

She twisted a stray lock of hair. Was it? She thought she’d been clever to think of it. “Then what about searching Richard’s house?”

“For your information, your friend Richard Watson has an airtight alibi for both crimes. His and the bank’s security records verify his claim that he worked late and went straight home the night the mushrooms were planted. And he registered at a hotel in Paducah Friday night.”

Jackie chewed furiously on a nail. “Maybe he checked into the hotel and then came back here. Or maybe someone checked in for him, did you think of that?”

“Actually—” Dennis’s voice sounded condescending “—we did. We faxed a photo for the desk clerk to verify. Mr. Watson checked in late, at ten-thirty Friday night. And it’s a four-hour drive from Versailles to Paducah. There was no time for him to get back here. Besides, the clerk on duty said no one could get in or out of the hotel in the middle of the night without being seen.” He paused. “We know how to do our jobs, Jackie. We don’t need a civilian to tell us how to search for clues. You need to just back away from this and leave the investigating to us.”

His tone sent shivers of anger down her spine. So patronizing, so…paternal. Apparently, he had been taking lessons from Detective Conner in how to make people feel insignificant.

“I see. Well, I’m sorry to have bothered you. Goodbye.”

“Jack—”

She slammed the phone down. If that’s the way he wanted to be, fine. Jackie didn’t need him. That was the last time she would call Dennis Walsh for anything. Ever.

D
ennis stared at the telephone in his hand, his stomach churning. The conversation hadn’t gone the way he hoped. That girl was infuriating! Here he was, halfway considering asking Jackie out on a date after this case was over, and what did she do? She pushed her nose in even further.

Her discovery of the missing library book was a development, no doubt about it. But it would only encourage her to continue meddling. Conner’s warning echoed in his mind. Nothing But Trouble. A more apt description of Jackie could not be found. That girl seemed determined to find a new method of throwing herself in harm’s way every day.

Still, he shouldn’t have called her trip to the woods stupid. Bad word choice. He didn’t blame her for being upset. He pressed the talk button, then let his finger hover over the numbers before finally hanging up again. In five minutes he needed to leave the house, and a conversation to appease an angry Jackie would take more time than he could spare. He’d have to call her tomorrow. Maybe she would have calmed down by then.

He went to the bedroom to finish dressing. His Kevlar vest was standard police issue, and he hated wearing the thing. But the instructors who had taught his police academy class harped on the importance of wearing some form of protection—so much that he’d developed a healthy respect for body armor. Even in a sleepy town like Versailles, a bulletproof vest might save a life.

Especially tonight. Dennis felt his pulse quicken. Tonight he and Conner had been invited to participate in a drug raid. The invitation had been reluctant, but Conner’s call to Colonel Smith in Frankfort had resulted in a second call to the captain of the narcotic enforcement unit investigating a drug ring in Woodford County. The same drug ring, it turned out, who used to sell marijuana to Sharon Carlson.

In Dennis’s opinion, a connection between these drug dealers and the teenager’s hit-and-run accident was unlikely, but the timing of the tip was incredibly good. The narcotics team planned to send in an undercover officer to buy drugs tonight, in search of enough evidence to convict the dealers. Mrs. Carlson’s phone call to Conner yesterday had given Dennis the opportunity to get involved in yet another aspect of police work with which he had no experience. As far as he was concerned, the more times his name came up in front of the bigwigs in Frankfort, the better.

He buttoned the shirt of his gray uniform over his vest. Back in the other room, he looked at the telephone. Yeah, that’s what he’d do. He’d call Jackie tomorrow and apologize for upsetting her. And he’d tell her in no uncertain terms that she needed to stay out of their case. For her own safety.

That decided, he strapped on his belt and pulled the door closed behind him as he left.

“This should be pretty cut-and-dried, boys.” Sergeant Felter sat behind the wheel of an unmarked car, eyeing Dennis in the backseat through the rearview mirror. “We’ve been working on this for months. The supplier over in Louisville’s getting nailed at the same time, so that’s one drug gang shut down in Kentucky.”

Dennis nodded. “Good job. I’m glad we’re getting in on the bust.”

Felter caught his eyes in the mirror. “Just remember. You’re here as observers.”

Beside Dennis, Conner answered, “Don’t worry, Felter. We’ll stay out of your way. We just want to watch, and maybe ask a question or two.”

“You coulda met us down at the station to ask your questions,” Felter muttered.

Apparently not in a mood to rise to Felter’s bait, Conner chose to ignore the comment and looked out the window.

On both sides of the deserted two-lane country road grew tall trees crowded with leafy underbrush. Twilight darkened the interior beyond the first few trees. The undercover officer, a guy named Ben Holmes, had disappeared around a wide curve ahead to make the final deal. Behind him, Dennis saw three state police cruisers, each with a pair of state troopers waiting for the word to move in. A glance at his watch told him Holmes had been gone almost twenty minutes. It seemed like hours. How long did it take to buy drugs, anyway?

Apparently, about twenty minutes. A car rounded the bend heading toward them. Holmes.

He executed a U-turn and rolled to a stop directly ahead of them. His hand stuck through the window, waving a thumbs-up.

“Here we go, boys,” said Felter, and he started his engine.

He pulled out behind Holmes, and the convoy of cruisers fell in behind him. Dennis glanced toward Conner. A casual observer would think him as calm as ever, but a twitch in his jaw told Dennis the detective’s teeth were clenched tightly together.

On the far side of a deep S-curve, Dennis saw their target—a single-wide trailer, its tin roof crusted with rust. Cardboard and masking tape covered one window. Three cars were parked on the grass in front of the trailer, and a rickety set of metal stairs led up to the front door.

Felter pulled across the dirt driveway behind Holmes to block any attempted escape. The cruisers rolled off the road onto the grass behind him. Doors opened and everyone got out, taking care to move through the yard toward the trailer as silently as possible. No one closed a door. If the occupants hadn’t heard the engines, there was no sense in alerting them to their presence before they were ready.

Heart pounding, his senses on high alert, Dennis stepped from the car onto the hard-packed soil. The troopers converged and moved toward the front door, weapons drawn. Silently, Felter nodded at two of them and jerked his head toward the far corner of the trailer. The two troopers crept quietly around to guard the rear exit.

Felter waited a moment to allow his team to get in place. Dennis saw the man’s shoulders rise as he drew in a breath, and then with a glance toward Holmes, he mounted the metal stairs and pounded on the door.

This was the most dangerous time of the raid. The sight of uniformed police officers outside their trailer might cause the dealers to panic. If they were desperate enough, they might open fire. Dennis whispered a prayer. Never had he felt as much need for the Lord’s protection as now. He unsnapped his holster strap. Observer or not, he wanted to be ready in case he needed to retrieve his weapon quickly.

The door opened. From where he stood Dennis couldn’t see inside, but he watched as Felter held up his badge.

“Kentucky State Police. Do you mind if we come in?”

Dennis heard the response, an insolent snarl. “Not unless you have a warrant, dude. I know my rights.”

Without turning his head, Felter extended a hand out behind him. A trooper stepped forward and slapped a paper into it. Felter held it toward the man inside the trailer.

“As a matter of fact, we do.”

Forty minutes later, after three male Caucasian suspects in their late thirties had been led away in handcuffs, Dennis and Conner stood in the crowded living room while Felter’s team bagged crack and marijuana. It was enough to put the dealers away for a long time.

“I guess you were wrong about these guys being involved in your hit-and-run.” Felter’s mouth twisted into what had to have passed as a smile for him.

Conner shrugged. “We’ll question them in more detail back at the station.”

Felter snorted. “Don’t know why you’d bother. You saw the reaction when you mentioned the Carlson chick. Nothing. Those faces were as empty as my wife’s bank account.”

Conner turned toward Dennis. “Did you search the kitchen?”

“Yeah.” Dennis shook his head, trying to hide his disappointment. “No knives resembling the one we found.”

Conner chewed the corner of his mustache. “Well, it was a tip. We had to check it out.”

“Yeah, tough luck,” Felter said. “But keep at it. I’m sure you’ll crack that case sooner or later.”

Before they left, Dennis made one last search through the tiny trailer. He didn’t really expect to find anything, but the intensity of Jackie’s voice on the phone this afternoon forced him to at least look for the mushroom book.

As he expected, it was not there.