The Case of the Poison Mushrooms

 

Sketch by Debra She Who Seeks

Bill, the beat cop, knocked on my door one fine spring morning. Since he was off duty, I poured two glasses of Scotch and prepared to listen. “What do you know about mushrooms”, he said.

“Some days, I think I am one. I am usually kept in the dark and fed horse manure”.

“We have a problem. A man died from eating poison mushrooms his wife made him, but we don’t know if it was accidental or not”.

“I had a case where a woman lost two husbands to poison mushrooms, and a third one by drowning. I asked how come he drowned, and she replied he wouldn’t eat his mushrooms. Can you imagine the first people to eat mushrooms? This one tastes like beef; this one killed Gary, and this one made me see angels for a week”.

“His wife is from Moscow. They go crazy in mushroom season and every year a dozen people get lost in the forest picking mushrooms. They pick and dry mushrooms by the kilogram”.

“Maybe an accident, maybe not. Did he have life insurance?”

“He took out a large policy a couple years ago naming his wife as beneficiary”.

“Not too bright. Mine is in my oldest’ name. She used to work with street gangs. Maybe I should worry too?”

“We seized her supply of dried mushrooms. Different kinds in different bags. She said her husband picked the bag that killed him. It was likely on top of the pile. Deliberately or coincidentally, we don’t know. She is pleading ignorance that they were poisonous.”

“Not bloody likely. Muscovites know their ‘shrooms. I only know meadow mushrooms in the wild and they are the same as the ones in the shops.”

“Me, too. As a kid on my grandmother’s farm, after a spring rain, I would only pick the meadow mushrooms. White tops, flesh coloured underneath”.

"You could never get this to stand up in court since she said he picked the bag of mushrooms and you have her word she did not know they were poisonous. You either have an unfortunate accident or the perfect murder."