Mayhem, Murder and the PTA

by Dave Cravens

  Bill’s jaw clenched. He blurted out an awkward laugh. “What? How the hell would I know?”

  Parker closed the refrigerator door, revealing the small six-shot revolver in her hand. She aimed the gun directly at Bill’s head. “Because you sent what’s on Joe’s phone from yours.”

  97.

  Parker firmed her grip on the revolver.

  The same revolver she’d asked Valerie to stash in the refrigerator before evacuating the kids from the house on her drive back from the hospital.

  Mendez threw her hands in the air at the sight of the gun. “Ms. Monroe!”

  Bill let out a calm but annoyed snort. He kept his hands to his sides. “You’re bluffing. You don’t even know what’s on that phone, do you?”

  Parker swallowed. “I’m guessing they’re pictures. Shocking pictures of Gerome with young boys he claimed to ‘love.’ Sick pictures that would throw Joe Ward into a blind rage. You read his file. You knew of his violent history, you even told me about it. All Joe needed was a push. Then, when you tasered and cuffed him, you slipped Heller’s phone into his back pocket to make it look like he’d had it the whole time.”

  Bill smirked. “Parker, you have no idea what you’re doing.”

  “And you have no idea how pissed off I am,” growled Parker. “I hate guns, and for me to be holding one on you? Right now? Chafes my ass in the worst fucking way.”

  Bill extended his hand for the pistol. “Come on. Hand it over. Before someone gets hurt.”

  Parker expertly cocked the hammer of the colt .38. “My mother has been a member of the NRA for over forty years. Against all reasonable judgement, she saw fit to have me trained to shoot by the age of ten. You go ahead and try me, Bill, or you can finally admit that you royally fucked up.”

  Bill smirk widened. “I didn’t fuck up.”

  “You did. You fucked with me.”

  “Parker, look around you!” Bill threw his arms open wide to the room. “You’re holding a gun on an officer of the law and the principal of an elementary school! You’ve presented a two-year old’s crayon drawings as evidence of – what exactly?” He turned to Mendez. “This looks crazy, right?”

  “How’s this for crazy?” asked Parker. “There was only one person tied to every aspect of Heller’s murder more than Bernstein, and that person was you. You had access to my Highlander when it was impounded at your office with plenty of time to crack the alarm. You were at the PTA meeting the night Heller was murdered. You were always first on the scene when things got hairy, acting like some goddamn hero. God, as sheriff you had access to everything!”

  “Parker!” Mendez pleaded. “Why would the Sheriff be involved with any of that?”

  “Yes, Parker,” added Bill. “Why?”

  Parker adjusted her grip on her gun. “It goes back to that sappy, bullshit story you told me about when you caught Bernstein smuggling a young boy and his mother into the country. Yeah, you didn’t turn them in, but not because you felt ‘conflicted.’ You saw Bernstein as an ‘opportunity.’ You saw him as a future partner.”

  Mendez’s eyes widened. “A partner for what?”

  Parker swallowed. The very idea made her sick. “Human trafficking.”

  “Wow,” Bill slowly reached for a chair at the kitchen table. “This is a fascinating story. Even Mendez is starting to buy it. You mind if I sit down?”

  “Keep standing,” Parker ordered, jabbing the gun in Bill’s direction. “Bernstein’s ranch is the perfect way-station to funnel illegals especially when the local law enforcement is ordered to steer clear. Bernstein and his wife already had the connections you needed. Traffickers could run their operation without any harassment in exchange for a piece of the pie. You’ve gamed both sides of the law this whole time.”

  Bill frowned, unimpressed. “That’s quite a stretch.”

  “Not really. When Heller stumbled onto the truth, you murdered her. You tried to frame me for it, and when that didn’t work, you framed Joe.”

  “And you can prove all this how?”

  “Bernstein implicated your name at the hospital. It’s over.”

  Bill chuckled. “You’re taking the word of a man hopped up on pain killers?”

  “The real evidence is locked away on the phone Mendez is holding.” Parker pointed to Joe Ward’s cell phone in the principal’s hand. “I bet if we marched down to the station right now and presented Joe with it, he’d have no qualms unlocking it for us, that is, if he isn’t still sedated to keep from talking. So in the meantime, your phone will do just fine, Sheriff. Care to show us what’s on it?”

  “You want me to show you what’s on my phone?” scoffed Bill. “To prove, what, I’m some kind of criminal mastermind?”

  “Please, you’ve been playing the last few weeks by the seat of your pants,” answered Parker. “Trying to distract me. Sending me on wild goose chases. Feeding me bullshit leads to keep me off your scent. You’ve been scrambling. Running scared. You’re no mastermind. You’re a fucking hack.”

  Bill took a long deep breath and stared at the floor. “Heh,” he laughed awkwardly. “I’m a hack?” His face turned beat red. “I’m the hack?” Bill jabbed his finger angrily at Parker, losing his cool for the first time ever in Parker’s presence. “I played you, Parker. Played! You! You’re the goddam hack!”

  “So, it’s true?” gasped Mendez. “You murdered Karen?”

  “Oh, look who just did the math?” spat Bill. “Shall I spell it out? I-killed-Karen-Heller!” Bill proudly announced, as if he were yodeling from the top of a mountain. “I shot her in the back of the head. Pop! She never saw it coming. Good luck proving any of it!” Bill took a deep breath to calm himself, realizing his mistake. He pulled out a chair and slowly sat himself down.

  “I told you to keep standing,” ordered Parker.

  Bill smiled. “You’re not going to shoot me.” Bill laced his hands behind his head and placed his feet onto the table, shoving Ally’s pictures onto the floor with the soles of his boots. “You would’ve done it already if you had the balls. Besides, you’re curious. You think you’ve got the who, the what and the when, but you’re still not sure about the how.”

  Parker’s eyes narrowed. “When Heller left the PTA meeting, she was rushing off to meet with you. To give you what her investigator found on Bernstein.”

  “Don’t strain yourself,” scoffed Bill. “Bernstein insisted on meeting Heller that night. He couldn’t understand why after all those years of working together, Heller would fire him because of ‘budget cuts.’ He wanted to confront her face to face.”

  “But she was afraid of how Bernstein might react, so she asked you to come for protection, is that it?” added Parker.

  “Ironic, right? I’ll admit I didn’t know the extent of what Heller’s investigator had dug up. I even broke into the school looking for the files.”

  “Ah hell, of course!” Parker wanted to kick herself. “You ransacked the music room and stole instruments to divert attention from what you were actually looking for! Heller’s files on Bernstein!”

  Bill dismissed Parker with a wave of his hand. “Turns out they weren’t much. Just some complaints of parents of former music students who came home feeling woozy after lessons with Bernstein. Still, it was all circumstantial. But when Heller confronted him about it that night, Bernstein got all emotional and whiny. He started crying, then practically admitted to Heller he loves little boys. Always has. Once that came out, I had no choice. I had to kill her. Heller knew enough to ruin years of my work.”

  “So, it’s true!” Mendez snapped to Parker. “We need to call the police!”

  “Yeah, do that!” chuckled Bill. “Oh wait! Shit, they’re already here!” Bill clapped his hands together as he laser focused on Parker. “The truth is, Parker could’ve done that on the car ride over, but she didn’t. Because after what Bernstein told her in the hospital, she didn’t know how deep the well went. She didn’t know who she could trust. She still doesn’t. But she call
ed you, didn’t she, Mendez? I wonder, what’s so special about you?”

  “I needed another witness to your confession,” Parker explained.

  “All you did was add to tonight’s body count,” said Bill. “Now I’ve got to take care of you, your family and Mendez. It’s not going to be pretty.”

  A thunderous crack sounded as Parker’s gun exploded to life, startling both Mendez and Bill as a hole tore into the kitchen ceiling. “I’m the one with the gun!” Parker reminded.

  Mendez held a trembling hand to her forehead. “Oh god!”

  Bill smiled. “Fine. What’s your next move? You going to shoot me?” He pointed to his face. “Better aim for the head, because you know the vest I’m wearing is gonna stop what’s coming out of that pop gun. Maybe you should call the Highway Patrol? Or the San Diego County Sherriff? Of course, they’ll both check in with my office first which won’t bode so well with you.”

  “Shut up,” demanded Parker.

  “See, I don’t think you thought this all the way through,” Bill continued to muse. “But I have. A good magician is always two steps ahead of the audience.”

  “Your magic sucks. It’s always sucked.”

  “I fooled an entire city for years. And what’s more, Parker? I fooled you.” Bill sat forward in his chair. “The key to a great trick is to keep your audience engaged. A little dazzled, sometimes confused. But always misdirected so they see what you want them to see. When really, all you’re doing is buying time.”

  Parker heard the sound of a gun being cocked behind her head. She felt the cold steel of a barrel press against her hair. “Drop your weapon, Ms. Monroe,” said a man’s voice.

  Parker’s stomach wrenched into knots.

  Bill smiled. “Every great magician works with an equally great assistant.”

  98.

  “Shit,”

  Parker slowly lifted her revolver toward the ceiling, until it was plucked out of her hand. A powerful arm shoved her toward Mendez. She spun on her heels to find Deputy Michaels out of uniform, his broken arm in a sling, with his good hand holding a Beretta pistol aimed at her heart.

  Bill stood up from the kitchen table. He openly applauded Deputy Michaels. “Perfect timing, Deputy.”

  Michaels nodded appreciatively.

  Parker stared up at the ceiling. “Of course, there was two of you!” she growled. “Michaels was with Ken Heller when he thought he was getting texts from his wife! All he had to do was feed you the answers to Ken’s questions.”

  “You don’t get any points for figuring that out now,” teased Bill. He unholstered his own gun and trained it on Mendez. “In high school you were always so fucking annoying telling us all how smart you are but it was all just talk.”

  “Fuck you.” Parker growled as she put her hands in the air.

  Bill checked his watch and turned back to Michaels. “Are we clear?”

  “I searched the perimeter and checked the house. Place is clean. No witnesses. Neighbors called about the gunshot. I told them I would investigate.”

  “How did you get in?”

  “Forced the side garage door.”

  Bill frowned. “Before or after the gunshot?”

  Michaels grimaced. “I’m—not sure. Is that important?”

  “There’s a motion camera covering that alley. If you broke in before the gunshot, then you’re on camera doing something weird. We’ll have to clean that up."

  “There was no camera,” retorted Michaels. “I checked.”

  “There is a camera,” insisted Bill. “I noted it when I was here the other night.”

  Parker glanced at Mendez.

  “Fine. There’s a camera.” said Michaels. “Whatever.”

  Bill turned from his partner to stare Parker up and down. “Unless,” he angrily marched around the kitchen. “Shit. Where the hell you put it, Parker?”

  Parker innocently hunched her shoulders. “Put what?”

  Bill back handed Parker across the face, throwing her back against the wall. “Don’t play dumb with me!”

  Parker’s head rung like a bell. Fuck, that hurt! She collected herself and glared at Bill. “You just made a huge mistake.”

  “Shut up!” Bill finally spotted it. He reached above the refrigerator to pull down a battery powered motion sensor camera—the same one Glory had installed to cover the alley side door. “Shit!” He threw the camera onto the tile floor, blasting open the case and bouncing parts into the next room.

  Parker parted her bloody lips into a smirk. “Oh dear, do you think it was recording this whole time?”

  “Fuck!” cursed Michaels. “What do we do?”

  Bill’s hammered his fist into Parker’s face so hard her nose spurted blood. He shoved her into a kitchen chair and snapped his fingers. “Gimme the bag!” Bill leveraged his body to pin Parker as he handcuffed her wrists to the armrests of the chair.

  Turning his gun on Mendez, Michaels tossed Bill a small bag. The Sheriff pulled out a needle and syringe as he bore his weight down on Parker. “Stop struggling!”

  Parker’s head still spun like crazy as she tried to resist Bill’s strength. She felt a small stinging in her arm, followed by a burning sensation – and then suddenly, all the pain seemed to float away. As angry as she was at Bill, her heart rate only seemed to slow. “What?” she gasped breathlessly. “What – are you doing?”

  “Pure heroin,” explained Bill.

  “Oh god,” gasped Mendez, nearly in tears.

  Parker struggled to keep her eyes open. She could barely lift her hands.

  “But you, Parker Monroe, we’re going to blast you with so much of it you overdose,” said Bill. “See, you’re just a junkie. You got into this because of your friend, Joe Ward. And then you went and lost your shit tonight, pulled a gun on me and the principal, and shot her in the face before I could shoot you. How’s that for a story?”

  Parker’s head started to get lighter. She tipped out of her chair and fell onto the floor. “It sucks.”

  Bill snapped his fingers at Michaels. “You got another dose ready yet?”

  “Coming up,” Michaels traded Bill syringes for another one full of heroin.

  Parker shook her drowsy head and started to laugh as Bill straddled her, armed with another needle.

  “You think this is funny?” asked Bill. “You’re going to die, Parker.”

  “You’re so fucking stupid,” panted Parker.

  Bill smiled. “Yeah? Well, I played you, Parker. And I won.”

  “You played me,” moaned Parker as she felt around the tile. Her brain had never worked like this before. Everything was upside down. She was somehow furious and sad, without her body capable of expressing the emotion. The room spun. She couldn’t even feel the blood rushing down from her nose. All she could do is laugh as she tried to get one last point across. “You played me, and she played us.”

  “She?” Bill paused. “Who? Heller?”

  Parker’s bloodied smile widened. “Mendez.”

  Mendez’s eyes shifted from abject terror to a blaze of sheer hellfire. “Damn you, Parker!”

  Before Bill or Michaels could even react, Mendez had jabbed a stiletto heel into Michael’s left calf while pulling his gun hand across her stomach and directly toward Bill. As Michael’s body crumpled from the pain in his left calf, he fired by accident. The bullet grazed Bill’s arm and shattered the window behind him. Mendez pressed her attack by using her free hand to tug on Michael’s ear so hard she detached the lobe from his head. He yelled, but not before Mendez adjusted her grip and threw his forehead into the edge of the kitchen table.

  I knew it, Mendez! You are undercover FBI!

  Michaels head ricocheted back into the air, loosening his hold on the gun. Mendez kicked the gun away, while lifted her skirt to reveal her own concealed handgun strapped to her inner thigh. She trained her FBI standard issued Glock 22 promptly on Bill, who in turn, trained his gun on her, forcing each to grapple the other’s weapon with their free
hand.

  Parker could still barely lift her own torso off the floor. Through blurry eyes, she found Michaels reeling on the floor across from her. Bill and Mendez struggled to dominate each other, inadvertently aiming one of the guns directly at Parker. The gun’s barrel exploded with flame and thunder.

  Parker watched in disbelief as her right thigh exploded with blood. Holy balls, I’ve been shot! And I can’t even feel it!

  The gun’s aim swung wildly toward Michaels. It fired again, blowing off a chunk of his head.

  Oh fiddle-fuck, I bet he felt that!

  Horrified at his own mistake, Bill smashed his forehead into Mendez’s, startling her to drop her Glock. Mendez backed away, desperately searching the counter space behind her. Bill started to raise his gun to aim at Mendez’s face, but not before her fingers had locked onto the kitchen’s knife block. She flung a steak knife into Bill’s gun arm, then grabbed the butcher knife and sliced open Bill’s gun wrist, forcing him to drop his gun onto the tile.

  Bill, in turn, wildly grabbed for anything in the sink next to him and found the rim of a ceramic bowl. As Mendez pressed forward with her knife, Bill cold-cocked her with the bowl on the side of her skull, sending her reeling into the kitchen table. Mendez slipped on the blood on the floor. Bill loomed over the would-be principal and tossed the ceramic bowl into the back of her neck.

  Mendez struggled to push herself back up. “Goddam, Mendez, you got some moves!” He kicked her in the small of the back, slamming her body down onto the floor. He reached down for the gun he’d dropped earlier, only to find it wasn’t there.

  “Looking for this?” panted Parker. She didn’t bother waiting for Bill’s answer. It took every bit of strength she had left just to pull the trigger. The gun exploded to life, and Bill crumpled over, grabbing his bleeding crotch.

  Damnit. I was aiming for his head!

  “Shit--!” Bill cried, wincing in immeasurable pain. He stumbled out of the kitchen toward the front of the house to the throw the front door open.

  “He’s getting—” Parker panted to Mendez, who continued to groan on the floor. “He’s getting away!”