The Secret Desires of a Soccer Mom

by Robyn Harding

  “If Karen really was murdered,” I added.

  “Well, for the purposes of obtaining an order of protection, we’ll be focusing on the fact that her death is still under investigation.”

  “Right. Of course.”

  “I’ll be in touch with a court date.”

  I felt a sudden surge of panic. “Will I have to testify? Will Javier—the defendant” —be there?”

  “The first step is a temporary, order of protection hearing. The judge will ask you some questions about the stalking, but Mr. Rueda won’t be in attendance. If we progress to a permanent order, there will be a more formal hearing, and the defendant will be able to attend.”

  “I hope we won’t need to go that far,” I said.

  “Me, too.” His smile was reassuring.

  “Thanks for all your help.” I shook Ed’s hand.

  Paul appeared from his study. “You all finished here?”

  “It’s taken care of,” Ed said, gathering the papers.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Paul offered.

  When he returned, he joined me at the kitchen table. “You okay?” His voice was still cool, but I was touched by his concern, nonetheless.

  “Yeah… I just wish I didn’t have to go to court and everything…”

  “Yeah? Well, I wish you hadn’t been seeing a strange, potentially dangerous man behind my back, but you were.”

  Obviously, he was still pissed off. I took a deep breath. “I don’t know, Paul,” I said, frankly. “I’m not one hundred percent sure Javier’s the killer. He certainly seems obsessive and a bit… misguided, but…”

  He stood up. “We’ll see what the police have to say. They’ll be here in an hour.” Jeez… when Paul said he was taking control of things, he wasn’t kidding. I went upstairs to freshen up a bit, and then put on a pot of coffee.

  Detectives Portman and Conroy showed up punctually at eleven. Paul ushered them inside, shaking hands and exchanging introductions. I hung back, standing awkwardly at the edge of the grand entryway. “And, of course, you know my wife, Paige,” Paul said, with a hint of derision.

  “Ms. Atwell,” Detective Conroy said, nodding in my direction.

  Portman cleared his throat nervously. “Yes… hello.” His greeting was overly formal. The poor guy seemed really uncomfortable being around my husband and me. When we were seated at the kitchen table with mugs of coffee before us, Conroy began. “So, Paul… You said on the phone that you have some additional information on the Sutherland case that might be of interest?”

  “Yes. My wife hasn’t been entirely forthcoming with you. …Have you, Paige?”

  “Well… no. I mean, I wasn’t purposely being deceitful. I just didn’t think it was relevant, before, but Paul says—”

  Paul cut me off. “Karen Sutherland was having an affair with Javier Rueda. My wife struck up some kind of friendship with him…” his eyes darted quickly, accusingly to my face. So did Troy Portman’s. “He’s been coming by the house… leaving her notes, dropping off gifts… He’s obviously got an obsessive personality.”

  “What kind of gifts?” Conroy asked.

  “Oh…” I shrugged. “Just a pressed flower… some bath products and… an iPod.”

  “Loaded with Spanish love songs,” Paul added.

  Troy was back in professional cop-mode. “Do you still have any of these gifts?”

  “Yes.”

  “Go get them,” Paul ordered. His take-charge attitude was rapidly moving from sexy to just plain bossy, but I complied. When I returned, I laid the burgeoning wicker basket and the iPod on the table before them. Both detectives inspected the bounty.

  “Did you use any of these products?” Conroy asked, noticing that the Scentual Woman basket was in disarray and the plastic wrapping removed. His tone wasn’t particularly accusing, but it set my nerves on edge. I really didn’t like Detective Conroy, and I really didn’t like him asking if Paul had licked edible body mousse off my breasts.

  “Uh…” I blushed, and looked to my husband for help.

  “Before I knew they were a gift from Rueda, I suggested she use one of them, yeah,” he said.

  Portman was inspecting the iPod. “This is an expensive model. And these songs… You say they’re Spanish love songs?”

  “Well, I’m not fluent but… they appear to be.”

  “We’ll get them translated. There could be some message in them.”

  “Yep,” Conroy said. “We’ll need to take all this stuff in with us for closer inspection.”

  Paul said, “We’re taking out a restraining order against him. We might need the gifts as evidence at the permanent hearing.”

  “They can be made available to you, if need be,” Conroy explained. He stood up. “Thanks for bringing this to our attention.” He was addressing Paul of course, his body angled purposefully away from me.

  When Troy spoke, he excluded me as well. “Rueda’s behavior toward your wife is definitely cause to take a closer look at him.” Oh sure… now that Paul had taken charge, they were willing to investigate. Suddenly, it was no longer just a simple accident.

  “Don’t forget about Doug Sutherland,” I added. “I saw him at the mall buying sexy lingerie for his sister.”

  All three men looked at me like I was speaking in tongues. “Right,” Conroy said dismissively. “We’ve got it under control.”

  When they were gone, my husband silently helped me pick up the coffee cups. “Are you going into the office now?” I asked, a little hesitantly. He was obviously still mad about the whole stalker business; I hoped he hadn’t picked up on the fact that Detective Portman “enjoyed my company”.

  “I’m going to work at home for awhile,” he said, tipping the remains of Conroy’s coffee into the sink. “At least until we get the restraining order sorted out.”

  I stopped and looked at my husband. His shoulders were tense and his jaw was set in a tight line of anger, but he was still the man I loved. He felt my eyes upon him. “What?”

  “Nothing. I just love you. That’s all,” I said. “I just… really love you.”

  Chapter 28

  So it was over. Paul and Ed Alahan escorted me to court where I managed to convince a judge that Javier constituted a threat to me and my family. With Javier not allowed within ten feet of me, Paul felt comfortable going back to work, the kids continued to go to school, and life went back to the way it was before… way before, when Karen was alive and I had nothing to be suspicious or concerned about. I had promised my husband that I would let the police handle the investigation from here on out, and I meant it. I would not call Troy Portman to check on their progress. I would not contact Javier (obviously). I would not spy on Doug, or visit Jackie Baldwin under the guise of buying my mom a new condo. I would focus on Christmas, which was now less than two weeks away.

  Paul and I agreed that we basically had to get Chloe an iPod. It would have been too cruel to tease her like that. I purchased one very similar to my gift from Javier, and loaded it with songs by her favorite singers—avoiding all lyrics pertaining to getting dirty, getting sweaty, or getting your freak on, of course. Spencer would receive his coveted Bionicle set; Paul, his new golf bag; and I’d even found a beautiful brooch for Pauline. At least I thought it was beautiful. If she didn’t agree, I’d just tell her that her beloved son picked it out.

  I threw myself into the Christmas preparations with a fervor bordering on mania. Three consecutive days were spent at the Aberdeen Mall purchasing gifts, a new red tablecloth and matching Christmas napkins, Christmas crackers, and various twinkle-lights and decorations. I cleaned. I decorated. I baked. The house was spotless, festive and gingerbread-scented. It was a veritable winter wonderland… and there were still five days to go until my in-laws arrived.

  Intent on keeping my word to my husband and not obsessing about the case, I had to find something else to occupy my mind. It needn’t be a huge project: the children would soon be out of school for the holidays. But it had to be eng
aging enough to keep me from calling Troy Portman, peeking through the front curtains to observe Doug’s comings and goings, or driving by The Old Grind hoping to catch a glimpse of Javier. I was far from cured, but I was taking it one day at a time.

  I was in Paul’s study, placing some cheerful sprigs of holly on top of his computer when I noticed the pile of books. I had completely forgotten about the stack of paperbacks Carly had virtually forced upon me. Reading was the perfect solution! Sifting through them, I selected a mystery. The blurb on the back said it was the story of Patty Hanover, a beautiful, blond divorcée whose ex-husband was found floating in her pool. Did Patty kill him, as the police suspected? Or was it beautiful young nanny she’d brought over from Britain, Annabelle Swinton, who was in line to become the third Mrs. Hanover? Of course, a butler with a mysterious past, a disgruntled business associate and Patty’s intensely passionate new lover served to complicate the case. Could Patty solve the murder before she ended up in jail?

  God, it was right up my alley!

  I immersed myself in the mystery, relieved to be focusing on a fictitious murder for a change. The writing was fast-paced and lively; the author, a former detective, was masterful at building suspense. When the phone rang part way through chapter eight, I jumped off the couch, startled.

  “Hello?” I answered breathlessly, my heart still beating audibly in my chest.

  “It’s Carly. What are you up to?”

  “Nothing much… just reading. You?”

  “I’d like to have you girls over for coffee, if you’re free. Just a little pre-Christmas get-together before everyone gets too wrapped up in the holidays.”

  “That sounds great. When?”

  “Now… Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “Great!” She sounded excited. “Trudy’s on her way, and I’m just going to call Jane.”

  I hurried to the kitchen where I loaded shortbread cookies, gingerbread men and rum balls into festive cookie tins purchased for this occasion. Every Christmas we exchanged tokens of our friendship, just a little something heartfelt and homemade. I had only bought three tins this year, one each for Carly, Trudy and Jane. Oh damn, what if Margot had been invited? Surely even Jane would agree that it was a little early to be exchanging heartfelt friendship tokens with her? Since Carly hadn’t mentioned Margot’s name, I surmised that three cookie tins were enough.

  When I arrived, Trudy was already there, and Jane was just pulling up in her Lexus. Everyone had come bearing gifts. We knew that within days the Christmas chaos would descend and it would be impossible to get together. Carly welcomed us all warmly and led us to her kitchen table. Atop the red table cloth overlain with a delicate lace pattern, she had placed a warm, apple-cinnamon coffee cake, a knife and four serving plates. It looked and smelled scrumptious, but before we could dig in, Carly spoke.

  “Thanks for coming on such short notice, guys,” she said, smiling at us each in turn. “I know things are about to get hectic. Paige, you have your in-laws coming; Jane, you’re off to Cancun soon; and I know Trudy, you’ll be busy with Cameron’s seasonal play and Emily’s non-denominational holiday piano recital…” We all nodded our agreement. “So I thought we should do our gift-exchange now… in case we don’t get another chance to get together.”

  “Great idea,” I said, handing out my cookie tins. “Just a little Christmas baking…”

  My friends peeked inside the tins and made the appropriate gushing remarks. “Looks delicious!”

  “Oh, the girls will adore these gingerbread men!”

  “Your rum balls are to die for!”

  Jane went next. She had given us each a nice bottle of red wine in a festive bag made of red velvet and white rabbit fur. In Jane’s case, heartfelt and homemade meant that she picked an idea from a craft magazine and Becca turned it into a thoughtful token of her friendship. But it was a lovely gift, and we were all equally demonstrative with our appreciation.

  Trudy, had of course, outdone us all in thoughtfulness and craftsmanship. “I hope you’ll like these,” she said, placing a plain brown bag on the table in front of her. From it, she extracted a matching hat, scarf and mittens in the finest angora wool. “The charcoal set is for you, Paige.” She passed the set to me. “Jane… yours is winter-white… And Carly…” She removed the final garments from the bottom of the bag. “I thought you’d like lilac.”

  “They’re gorgeous,” I said, trying them on. “When did you have the time?”

  “Oh, I love to knit,” Trudy said, dismissively. “Really… I find it so relaxing.”

  “Well, this is absolutely beautiful,” Jane said, tying the scarf around her neck.

  Carly rubbed the soft wool against her cheek. “I love them, Trudy. Thank you so much.”

  When Trudy was becoming uncomfortable with our heaps of praise, Carly stood up. “Now, it’s my turn. I’ll be right back.” She hurried off to the spare bedroom which I knew was dedicated solely to her craft projects. Moments later, she returned holding three stacked shoeboxes against her chest. “Take one,” she instructed, walking around the table.

  Simultaneously, we removed the lids and rustled through the wads of pale pink tissue paper inside. I heard Trudy’s gasp before I’d found my gift, but when I did, I understood her reaction. Nestled in the soft pink bed was a tiny, cloud-shaped pillow. Transferred onto the soft, white fabric was a photograph of Karen. I recognized it from the New Year’s Eve photo of the four of us displayed at her funeral. Beneath her smiling face, Carly had embroidered:

  Karen Sutherland

  Our Angel

  1974—2011

  I heard a ragged sob catch in Jane’s throat and it brought one to mine as well. Normally, I would have found such a creation a little… tacky, too reminiscent of wearing a photo of your dog or your kids on your T-shirt. But under these circumstances, it was incredibly meaningful and touching.

  “It’s for the Christmas tree,” Carly explained, holding Trudy’s cloud up by the loop of ribbon affixed to the top. “I thought it would be a nice way to keep her memory alive.”

  “Of course,” Trudy said hoarsely. “Every Christmas, we’ll put our angel on the tree, and take a moment to really remember her.”

  “Oh, Carly,” Jane said, moving over to hug her. “It’s so special.”

  “It is,” I added tearfully, reaching over to squeeze Carly’s hand.

  “Could we…” Trudy began, before her voice broke. She took a few seconds to compose herself and then continued. “Could we take a moment right now, to remember our friend? I feel like we’ve all been so focused on healing that we maybe haven’t spent enough time… remembering.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Carly said.

  “Let’s join hands and say a prayer,” Trudy suggested. She turned to me. “Paige, I know you’re not one to really pray, but if you’d like to join our circle and just… think positive, loving thoughts…?”

  “Sure,” I said, feeling like a practicing Satanist at a Billy Graham crusade.

  We all joined hands around Carly’s frilly Christmas table, and closed our eyes. Trudy spoke. “Let’s thank the good Lord for bringing Karen to us for as long as he did… and let us pray for the soul of whoever was involved in her mysterious death.”

  My eyes popped open and met Trudy’s. Wordlessly, we shared a moment of complete understanding. It was the first time any of my friends had vocalized the fact that they had suspicions about Karen’s death, too! In a flash, it was over. Trudy closed her eyes and began moving her lips in silent tribute. I looked quickly from Carly to Jane, but they were each immersed in prayer—or in Jane’s case, probably positive, loving thoughts. But I knew what I had heard. Trudy suspected that Karen’s death was more than a simple fall.

  The rest of our visit was more upbeat. When we had adequately recovered from our prayer circle, we dug into the coffee cake and shifted the conversation to Christmas plans. Trudy regaled us with details of th
e upcoming seasonal play and piano concert; Jane talked of her five-star holiday in Mexico; and Carly filled us in on her plans to spend Christmas Eve volunteering at a soup kitchen and then spending Christmas morning with her parents and sister in Highlands Ranch.

  “What about you, Paige? Are you ready for Pauline?” Carly asked, teasingly.

  “I’m ready,” I said. “At least I think I’m ready. I’m sure when she shows up she’ll find a million things that I’ve forgotten to do.”

  “Don’t let her stress you out,” Jane said. “Don’t let her ruin your Christmas.”

  “I’ll try not to.”

  “You’re a great hostess,” Trudy said, patting my hand. “She’s lucky Paul married you.”

  “I’m going to take the next couple of days to rest and rejuvenate before she arrives. If I can get myself into a state of complete relaxation and acceptance, then maybe she won’t bother me so much.”

  “Like a trance,” Jane joked.

  “Basically,” I agreed.

  After another half an hour of lighthearted banter, Jane had to go home and pack. “I’d better get going, too,” Trudy added. “I’m putting the finishing touches on Cameron’s singing snowman costume.”

  “I should go and meditate,” I joked.

  At the front door, we all hugged and wished each other happy holidays. “I’ll probably see you before the big day,” I said to Carly. Since we lived so close, we were bound to cross paths.

  “If you need a break from Pauline, you can always hide out here.”

  When I got home, I didn’t meditate. I cleaned and puttered until it was time to pick up the kids. With my children home, I made their after school snacks, did homework with Chloe, and read stories to Spencer until it was time to fix dinner. We were having tacos: another family favorite that would definitely not pass muster with Pauline. When my mother-in-law was visiting, we had to have a roast of meat and three vegetables for every meal.