Chapter Sixteen

Meredith woke with eyes swollen from crying and lack of sleep. She stared in the mirror and touched several newly developed lines on her face. Fine wrinkles now etched the corners of her eyes, a former crease in her forehead was a canyon and the corners of her mouth took on the appearance of craters.

I’m twenty-four and feel like I’ve lived a lifetime already. Her mouth sagged downward as she studied her reflection. Chin up, girl. Honey’s down home sayings were cheery but they didn’t pay the bills.

One day at a time. The mantra didn’t cheer her. The day in front of her was impossible. Her roof was collapsing and the chemistry final exam was tomorrow. Studying was the last thing she wanted to do. What was the point anyway there was no likelihood now she’d ever be able to afford another class?

Life is messy. It’s how you handle it that counts.

Her mother’s words didn't help either. Of course, life was messy. She’d learned this well enough.

She recalled a middle-aged woman who’d worked at the Wild West Motel, one of the many such places she’d lived in as a child. The woman, with hard shiny eyes boring into whoever walked by, had a constant bitter attitude, always negative in outlook no matter what the topic.

“Good morning,” Meredith’s mother would sing out as they passed.

Not today it isn’t,” the woman would say each time, her mouth cemented into a constant scowl.

Her mother secretly nicknamed her the wicked witch of the Wild West and they laughed together over the name.

That’ll be me. Bitter and mean. The wicked witch of Hay City. She scowled into the mirror and then turned away quickly. Her impression of the woman from the motel was a little too precise.

****

Deli boy coughed delicately into his hand, then wiped it against his apron. “You’ve probably noticed I’ve been gone awhile.”

“No.” Meredith skipped the deli counter on most of her shopping trips now. Cutting her weekly half pound of deli turkey and ham not only saved her the aggravation of seeing the offensive kid, but also cut her grocery bill. A pound of hamburger, at half the cost of deli meats, could be stretched into a meatloaf dinner, spaghetti sauce and several days of meatloaf sandwiches. Jamie complained and clamored for her favorite turkey, but Meredith remained firm. They would have deli turkey for sandwiches once a month, as a treat.

Probably unhappy at not being missed, deli boy’s tone turned indignant. “I’ve been really sick.”

He waited. She paused and then obliged him with the smallest amount of sympathy she could muster. “Too bad.”

“I could’ve died.” He raised his eyebrows at her, indicating he expected alarm. “But I didn’t.”

“So I see.”

He glared at her and her lack of dismay. She marveled at his belief she would care, after all they’d been through together, all his barbs and nastiness. Deli boy was a blight upon Hay City, corrosive and evil, in her opinion.

“It wasn’t my fault, picking a destroying angel,” he continued, determined to tell his death-defying story. “They look a lot like button mushrooms. Tricky buggers.”

Despite herself, Meredith was drawn in by the unusual name. “Destroying angel?”

Deli boy straightened up, happy to have finally piqued her curiosity and having the opportunity to exhibit authority on the subject. “They’re just like those mushrooms in your cart there; hard to tell the difference unless you’re really paying attention. I was focusing on the chanterelles, the money mushrooms, but picked a few buttons along the way. Darned if I didn’t slip in a destroying angel. Could’ve been lights out for me, forever.”

He thumped his skinny chest. “Good thing I’m tough. Barfed them up right away. Got most of the poison out of my system quick. Still, I’d have to say it was touch and go there for a while.”

She frowned, glancing down at the mushrooms in her cart. There was a very good reason she’d avoided mushrooms all her life; slimy, disgusting, and poisonous as well. This was the first time she ever decided to buy some, thinking she could chop them fine and add them to meals to add a bit of meaty texture and extra nutrients, as Honey suggested.

A strange idea occurred to her. As much as she disdained talking to the noxious teen, she had to ask. “These poisonous mushrooms…you just found them out in a field somewhere?”

He gave her a withering glance. “Forested area. That’s all I’ll tell you. I don’t give away my hunting grounds for chanterelles. I make some good money picking them every year.”

“The destroying angels. Do they make you throw up?”

“Like the dickens.” He opened his mouth and mimicked throwing up on the deli case.

“Poison,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Killers.”

Meredith remembered Jacob saying something about Brooke going for long walks. Would she have picked destroying angels along the way? It would have been easy enough to slip a few poisonous mushrooms into a meal. Poor unsuspecting Jacob and Father Karl. They would have eaten the mushrooms, thinking they were the ordinary everyday button kind, the type you see in grocery stores everywhere. She needed to tell Curtis. She didn’t know why Brooke killed her husband and the priest, but now she knew how.

“Hey, you getting your turkey and ham? Half pound of each, right?”

She stared down at the mushrooms in her cart and swallowed. The fact deli-boy finally remembered her order, the same order every time since they’d moved to Hay City, didn’t give her a sense of victory. There were more important things to think about.

“Just the turkey, quarter-pound only today.” She turned to Jamie. “Hey kiddo. Stay here a moment and get the turkey, okay?”

Jamie appeared pleased with the responsibility. “I’m in charge of Atticus, too?”

She nodded, grabbed the bag of disgusting fungi out of the cart and strode off to the produce department. She had a return to make.

****

She was breathless as she told Curtis about deli-boy’s close call. She blurted out the story as soon as she entered his office.

He raised his eyebrows in question. “Jeffrey Cole? Mushrooms?”

“He called them destroying angels, but I’m sure there are lots of poisonous mushrooms out there,” Meredith rushed on. “Listen, Jeffrey was out picking mushrooms right about the time Jacob died. There must have been these mushrooms everywhere.”

Curtis rose from his desk and approached the counter where Meredith stood. He rubbed his neck in thought. “A storm’s coming in. The equipment for Jacob’s exhumation won’t go up until the weather passes. Until we can get a full autopsy done, we won’t know if he died from anything other than a heart attack. In the meantime, I’m waiting on a detailed report on Father Karl’s death. I’ll give them a call about possible mushroom poisoning though.”

She huffed in exasperation. “Why does this take so long?” The concern lurking under the surface boiled over. “Brooke will go back to work soon. To Jamie’s school. You need to do something.”

His expression hardened somewhat at her suggestion he wasn’t fulfilling his duties. “There’s been no proof of murder. No witnesses to anything suspicious.”

“Jacob told me…” she broke in, then bit her lip. They’d been through all this before.

“Meredith.” He squeezed her hand. “Do you understand what I’m telling you? It doesn’t matter what I believe; my job is to collect solid evidence. If there’s no evidence, or no confession, no prosecutor will touch the case. In Twin Lakes, there’s no proof of murder.”

“Yet.”

He nodded in acknowledgment. “I’m frustrated, too, by this waiting. I need to know exactly what we’re dealing with.” His voice softened, a gentling. “Have a little more faith in people.”

She withdrew her hand; she wasn’t in a mood to be comforted. She needed to know Jamie was safe and no more people would die. She wanted Curtis to be as mistrustful as her. “You’re too nice to be a sheriff. Too worried about doing the right thing.”

What was meant to be a criticism emerged as a compliment. She struggled to find something more pointed to say. Adjectives flowed through her mind, but they all came back to Curtis’s gentle nature, his continuing belief in the goodness of the people around him. Sheriffs weren’t supposed to be so good-looking, so generous, so kind, offering to build houses for people they met less than a year ago. They were supposed to be embittered by life, quick to recognize the wicked impulses of those around them.

Making an exasperated sound, Meredith turned and stomped out. He would be shocked when Brooke was finally hauled to justice. He would become bitter and mean soon enough. Like me. Consoled by the thought, she headed to Honey’s house for another lesson in marksmanship.

****

She lay in bed the next morning debating whether to drive to Twin Lakes and take her final exam. The roads would be slick and unpredictable, but she was proud of how well she could drive in the icy weather after such a short time. Just a few simple rules and it was easy: Drive slower, turn the wheel in the direction of a slide, and don’t panic. Why didn’t they post these rules on roads in snow country?

There was no point in taking the final test if she wasn’t going to keep taking classes. She couldn’t take classes if she didn’t have money to pay for them. And she didn’t have the money if her house was falling down. Why did it always come back to money? Would she be as obsessed with it as Brian and Gemma?

I’m going to move forward in my life and not let anything stop me.

She wavered for a moment. Words were easy to say; doing was another thing. It didn’t hurt that she wanted a chance to see Brooke again. If Curtis wouldn’t talk to Jacob’s wife about the mushrooms, then she would just have to take charge. He would thank her after Brooke confessed.

Meredith tugged the covers up to her chin, the morning chill more insistent than usual and making her reluctant to budge out of bed. She knew Honey would be willing to watch her kids while she drove to Twin Lakes. Even if the woman was a bit devilish, Honey was accommodating and helpful when one was in a pinch. She was learning it took a healthy amount of forgiveness to get along with people in Hay City.

The afternoon before, Honey was surprised at her request for more target practice. “This may be more of a springtime activity,” she suggested. “There’s more than a foot of snow on the ground and more coming, I hear.”

Meredith jutted out her chin. “I don’t mind going out by myself. The cold won’t bother me.”

“I don’t think you’re quite ready to be turned loose on your own. Let me get my woolens on and we’ll give it a go for twenty minutes.”

They settled Jamie and Atticus in front of the TV with a snack and blankets, and Meredith plugged away, trying aimlessly to hit a cardboard box. Even with the larger target, she missed every time. She knew she would eventually get the hang of it. Reloading came easier now, and she was certain her aim would improve with a few more lessons.

A giggle and a thump startled her out of her daydreaming. There was something about the giggle’s pitch that made her rise out of bed. There were good giggles and the type children gave when they were doing something they shouldn’t. This was definitely the second type.

She headed to her kids’ room, the one they now shared since Jamie’s ceiling collapsed, and realized with a jolt the door to her daughter’s old room was open. A cold breeze flowed through the house and she strode forward faster. The roof was unstable and dangerous in there. Jamie knew she was supposed to stay out.

“Mommy.” Her daughter’s voice was delighted as she saw Meredith at the doorway of her room. “See what we did.”

Meredith gaped at the sight before her in dismay. The tarp blew off the hole above at some point in the night and snow piled into the room. The carpet was a frozen blanket of white. Her children must have arisen early because in the middle of the room, below the hole, they’d built a snowman.