Inside, Richard sat in a high-backed chair, his desk empty except for a neat stack of papers on one corner and a month-at-a-glance calendar in the center. A matching credenza against the back wall held a computer and several pictures of an attractive woman, presumably Mrs. Watson. In front of the desk were two comfortable-looking visitor chairs.
Richard Watson looked every bit the part of a bank vice president. A silk tie complemented his expensive suit. When he came around the desk to shake their hands, the shine on his black shoes spoke of one who appreciated good clothing and took care of it. He might have just stepped off the cover of GQ.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Richard said. “We haven’t officially met, but I recognize you from church last Sunday. Have a seat. Louise, would you close the door, please?”
Conner sat in one of the chairs facing the desk, and Dennis took the other. He pulled a small notebook and pen out of his pocket, ready to record any pertinent information the interview revealed.
“Now, what can I do for you?”
Conner sat with his elbows resting on the arms of the chair, his fingers steepled before him. “We’re investigating the murder of Mrs. Alice Farmer.”
Richard shook his head, his lips drawn into a sad frown. “The news has rocked our church, I can tell you. It’s hard to believe anyone would harm her.”
The sympathetic smile—the one that said I’m your friend, you can tell me everything—appeared on Conner’s face. “We actually received a tip that we need to check out with you.”
“Me?” Richard’s eyebrows rose.
“Yes. You see, we’ve been made aware of a possible, shall we say, extramarital relationship that could have a bearing on this case.”
Dennis watched closely. The surprise that leaped into the man’s face could not be faked. Jackie must be right about the affair.
“You must be joking. Me? Having an affair?” He sat back in his chair and gave a low laugh. “That is ridiculous.”
Conner spread his hands. “Nevertheless, we do need to follow up on every lead. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course. But tell me, who am I supposed to be having an affair with?”
Conner’s expression did not change, but Dennis felt his intensity increase as he focused on Richard’s face. “A member of your church and an employee here at the bank. Mrs. Kathy Dorsey.”
Richard threw his head back against the high backrest and laughed out loud. “You’ve got to be kidding! Where in the world did you hear that?”
Conner’s smile tightened. “From someone who saw you going into her house Wednesday night.”
At that, Richard sobered. He leaned forward and looked Conner directly in the eye. Dennis watched for any sign of dishonesty, any hint of guilt. Maybe he wasn’t having an affair, but if he was stealing from the bank, surely something would show in his face.
“Kathy is having some trouble here at the office. She’s been put on probation for mistakes at her window. I know she is upset about it. As the sole supporter of her two boys, she can’t afford to lose her job.” He took a breath, and then continued. “I did go by her house, to let her know I am willing to help any way I can. I intended to talk to her at church that night, but was tied up here at the bank and didn’t make the Wednesday night Bible study. I was there not more than fifteen minutes.” His lips twitched. “Hardly time for an extramarital fling, especially with her boys running around.”
Richard swiveled his chair and picked up a picture from the credenza. He held it toward Conner and Dennis. “Do you see this woman? She is the sweetest, most loving wife a man could ever have. I would never do anything to hurt her.”
Dennis shifted in the comfortable chair. Now would have been the perfect time to bring up Richard’s comment about Mrs. Farmer’s accusations dying with her. Conner would be irritated when Dennis told him later. They’d have to pay Richard another visit.
Conner’s fingers tapped against one another. “Did you like the victim, Mr. Watson?”
“Mrs. Farmer?” Richard shrugged and placed the picture on the edge of his desk. “Not particularly. She was a sour woman, always finding fault with people. I didn’t dislike her, either. Certainly not enough to murder her, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Dennis detected nothing in Richard’s manner to make him doubt the truth of the man’s statement. He did not flinch, nor did he flush. He held his gaze steady, and that wasn’t easy to do while being examined by the best detective in the state.
“Do you have a computer at home, Mr. Watson?”
An abrupt switch to a new topic. Dennis recognized this tactic, used to throw the subject off balance. Richard’s expression did not change.
“No, I don’t.” He nodded toward the one on his credenza. “I use this one for business, and the occasional personal e-mail. It’s a notebook, so I can take it home if I need to.”
“Would you mind if we take a look?”
Richard shook his head. “I’m sorry. I have access to confidential bank records. I can’t let you use my computer without a search warrant.”
“We’ll get one if we need it. Of course that means we’ll return with a sheriff to serve it.” Conner smiled. “Sheriff’s deputies aren’t exactly quiet when it comes to delivering warrants, you know.”
For the first time Richard’s expression changed. An angry red flooded his cheeks. “What do you want to see on my computer?”
Conner’s shoulders twitched upward. “Just your Internet history.”
“If you’re looking for porn sites, I’m not into that. Anyway, we have a filter here that prevents us from accessing sites like that.”
“Does it block you from Web sites on poisonous mushrooms?”
His lips a tight line, Richard glared across the desk. “Fine. Check it right now, with me watching.”
At Conner’s nod, Dennis set down his notebook and rounded the desk. Richard swiveled his chair around to watch as Dennis opened Internet Explorer and displayed the history list. The guy obviously didn’t do a lot of surfing. The list only showed about two dozen sites, mostly financial Web sites and news, like USA Today. Nothing that looked like a site on mushrooms. Dennis clicked over to the Options window, then turned to look at the detective.
“It’s set to keep history for seven days.”
Conner gave a humorless smile. “Inconclusive, then.”
Richard’s face remained impassive. Dennis closed the window and returned to his seat as Conner resumed his questioning.
“Do you mind telling me where you were from noon on May sixth until five-thirty in the afternoon on May seventh?”
If the detective hoped to rattle Richard’s composure by bouncing from topic to topic, it didn’t seem to be working. “As you well know, that was the day of the church picnic. We left there around, oh, I’d say one or one-thirty. I took my wife home, changed clothes and came to the office.”
Conner’s eyebrows rose. “On Sunday?”
“I am a vice president,” Richard reminded him. “I don’t always have the privilege of keeping banker’s hours. I had an extremely important investor’s meeting the next day and needed to prepare for it. I didn’t leave here until after ten o’clock Sunday night.”
“Was anyone else here with you?”
Richard shook his head. “But if you need proof, I’m sure the bank’s security cameras recorded my arrival and departure. In fact, when I got home, Laura had already turned on our home alarm for the night. You can probably get the records from our security service and see when I turned the alarm off to get in the door, and then back on just a few minutes later from the bedroom. I didn’t turn it off until I left for work the next morning.”
Dennis didn’t need Conner’s glance to tell him to write down that piece of information in his notebook.
“Who is your security service, sir?” Dennis asked.
“Sugarcreek. I’ll call and tell them to give you whatever you need.” He looked at the detective again. “I came straight to w
ork, and arrived here around eight-thirty, as I always do. Any number of people saw me. I worked until well after five-thirty that night.” He leaned forward. “All I ask is that you be discreet as you verify my statement. I’m an officer in this bank, and any hint of a scandal will be picked up by the media. I don’t want my wife upset by this ridiculous accusation.”
“Of course,” Conner assured him, and then rose.
Dennis got to his feet, as well, pocketing his notebook and pen.
Richard stood but remained behind the desk. “I have an early committee meeting with the Kentucky Bankers Association in Paducah tomorrow, and I planned to drive down this evening to spend the night. Leaving town is acceptable, I assume?”
Tight lines around the edges of his lips were the only signs of the man’s anger at having to ask permission to leave town.
Conner shrugged and then gave a single nod. “We’ll be in touch,” he said as he opened the door.
Even to Dennis, it sounded like a threat.
SIXTEEN
Jackie woke to the tickle of a deeply contented purr vibrating her left ear. Without opening her eyes, she reached up to stroke Linus’s soft fur.
“Good morning, fur ball,” she mumbled.
The purr increased, and Jackie let a sleepy smile steal across her face. If a more pleasant way to wake up in the morning existed, she didn’t know about it.
Then she opened an eye and glanced at the clock. Five forty-seven.
“Ugh!”
She snatched up the extra pillow and pulled it over her face, which sent Linus scurrying away. No fair. Saturdays were supposed to be for sleeping in! Her last morning to sleep late before returning to work on Monday, and that pest had woken her up before six o’clock in the morning?
For a moment she thought she might drift back to sleep, but then she remembered yesterday. Kathy’s sobs. Margaret’s injured stare. With a sigh she sat up.
“Might as well get moving. Thanks, you rat.”
She tossed the pillow at Linus, who leaped out of its way and gave her a reproachful look before sashaying out of the room, his tail held high.
Jackie stumbled into the kitchen to turn the coffeepot on before heading for the bathroom. By the time she emerged from her shower, feeling much more alert, the rich smell of freshly brewed coffee permeated the apartment. She slipped on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, then poured a mugful and took it into the living room, her hair still wrapped in a towel. Sinking onto a corner of the couch, she turned on the television.
“…where a late-night accident has left a teenager in critical condition. Mike?”
The picture switched to a shot of a television reporter standing in front of Central Baptist Hospital in Lexington, a microphone clutched in his hand.
“That’s right, Carl. Late last night, a Versailles teenager was struck by a hit-and-run driver a little past midnight. Fifteen-year-old Samantha Leigh Carlson was airlifted—”
“What?” Jackie sat straight up, slopping coffee into her lap. She barely noticed the hot liquid. A growing horror spread through her as the reporter continued.
“—intensive care with multiple internal injuries. A spokesman for the Woodford County Sheriff’s Department said a few moments ago that the driver of the car that struck the teenager has not yet been apprehended. Samantha’s condition remains critical. We’ll keep you informed as updates are given, Carl.”
The television picture returned to the newsroom. Her fingers nearly numb with shock, Jackie pressed the mute button. Samantha Carlson in critical condition? Her mother must be frantic. Jackie shook her head to dispel the memory of Sharon’s face peeking at her over the cubicle wall. And what about Samantha’s grandfather, the choir director?
Jackie scrambled off the couch and dashed to the phone. The clock read a little before six-thirty, but so what? Pastor Palmer and Margaret needed to know what was going on.
There was no answer. Jackie hung up without leaving a message. They were probably at the hospital already. And Jackie wanted to go, too. Maybe she could help with…well, something.
Midway down the hallway to finish dressing, she stopped. Sharon would probably not appreciate her showing up at the hospital.
Seized by indecision, she returned to the living room and dropped onto the couch. What should she do? She still owed Sharon an apology, but now probably wouldn’t be the best time to deliver it. Plus, the Carlsons were high on the police list of murder suspects, according to Dennis.
But would this development change that? Could this be related to the murder case?
A knock at the door interrupted her troubled thoughts. For a moment, Jackie sat frozen on the couch. No one would show up at her apartment so early in the morning, unless…
She dashed across the room to the peephole. Sure enough, Detective Conner’s smug smile filled the lens.
This could not be good. What in the world did that nasty man want this time? Was it something to do with Samantha’s accident?
With a deep breath to clear her mind, Jackie opened the door. Two uniformed police officers stood in the breezeway behind Detective Conner. One, a stranger, wore a brown uniform. His badge labeled him as L. Byers. The other hung back, avoiding her eyes. Dennis.
“Good morning, Miss Hoffner,” the detective said. “May we come in?”
Suddenly conscious of her towel-wrapped hair, Jackie hesitated.
“That depends. What are you doing here at six-thirty in the morning?”
The detective’s smile deepened. “We have some questions related to an accident that occurred last night.”
She gripped the edge of the door. “I saw it on television. Do you know what happened? Is Samantha going to be all right?”
Byers stepped forward. “May we come in, ma’am? I need to ask you some questions.”
Detective Conner’s face went blank, giving Jackie the impression he wasn’t happy to have someone else speak in his presence. A quick inspection of Byers’s uniform told her he was with the Woodford County Sheriff’s Department. Not the state police, then, like Dennis and Conner.
Jackie stepped back and gestured for the men to enter her apartment. Without being invited, Conner led his entourage to the dinette table and stood behind the same chair he’d occupied his last time here. Dennis and Byers also selected chairs, but did not sit until she closed the front door and gestured for them to be seated.
Dennis busied himself with his little notebook. Was he avoiding her eyes? Of course, she probably looked awful in her grubby T-shirt and no makeup. Margaret would be horrified. Should she excuse herself to at least take the towel off her head? A look at the serious expression on the men’s faces gave her the answer. She sat in the fourth chair, towel and all. At least she had put on clothes instead of a bathrobe.
Byers spoke first, his eyes holding Jackie’s across the table. “Miss Hoffner, where were you last night?”
Conner’s lips tightened. Clearly, he was unaccustomed to someone else asking the questions. But why were they questioning her? Jackie glanced at Dennis, whose eyes remained on his notebook, his expression grim.
“I was here,” she answered. “All night.”
“Can anyone verify that?” Conner asked.
Jackie cast an irritated glance his way. “Just my cat. I live alone, Detective.”
Byers spoke up. “Neighbors? Friends? Did you talk to anyone on the phone?”
She did not look at Dennis. “Around noon, but not after that. I did walk down to the park at two o’clock, but I was back by three. I doubt if any of my neighbors saw me, though. Most of them work during the day.”
“You didn’t take your car?”
“No.” Jackie turned her head to look at Detective Conner. “What’s this about? You don’t think I had anything to do with Samantha’s accident, do you?”
“Miss Hoffner.” Byers forced her to look back at him. “We believe we have found the car that struck Miss Carlson sometime after midnight last night. It is a gray Toyota, and it is regist
ered to you.”
Jackie reeled. “But…but…that’s impossible!”
She leaped from the table and ran across the living room to jerk the curtains away from the sliding-glass patio doors. Her numbered space in the parking lot was right outside her balcony.
The Toyota was not there. Instead, it was parked two slots away. And it was surrounded by police officers.
“Someone moved it,” she said, whirling back to face the men. “Honest. That’s not my parking place.”
Jackie would have given anything to see a smile from any of the three. Even Conner’s fake friendly smile would be welcome. But no one smiled.
“When did you last see your car in your parking space, Miss Hoffner?” Conner asked.
“Uh, let me think.”
Fog clouded her mind. She couldn’t remember. Had it been there when she returned from her walk? Yes. She was almost certain of it.
“It was there around three o’clock. Maybe one of my neighbors saw it when they came home from work last night. I don’t know the guy who parks in the one it’s in now, but he lives in twenty-three D. He or someone else would certainly notice, because we each have our own space.”
Conner nodded. “We’ll ask them.”
“In the meantime,” Byers said, standing, “I’m going to have to ask you to come down to the station.”
The blood left Jackie’s face. She felt faint. “The station?”
She cast a desperate look at Dennis. She detected a hint of compassion in his expression, but he remained mute. At least he had the grace to look awkward.
Instead, comfort came from an unexpected source. Conner stood and crossed the room to stand in front of her. He did not smile, but his eyes held a measure of reassurance as he looked down into hers.
“You are not being charged with a crime, Miss Hoffner. We simply need your statement. You’ll be there an hour or two at the most.”
Fighting to breathe past a sudden painful lump in her throat, she nodded. “Can I comb my hair and get some shoes on?”
“Of course. Take as long as you like. We’ll wait.”
Murder by Mushroom Page 15
