Murder at the PTA

by Lee Hollis

  Instead, he just feigned annoyance and whined, “Mom!”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  On their way home, Sandra made the snap decision to turn right instead of left at the intersection, heading in the opposite direction of their house. Jack sat up in his seat and looked around.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see,” Sandra said, gripping the wheel, with a steely look of determination.

  When she turned onto a quiet road dotted with a few houses, Jack figured out their destination and a smile crept across his face.

  “Thank you . . . ,” he whispered.

  Sandra looked at him and nodded, then turned back, keeping her eyes on the road until they pulled up to a modest single-level house in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint, a yard that hadn’t been mowed in weeks, if not months, and a red rusted Mustang parked out front that hadn’t seen too many more better days than the house.

  Jack eagerly flung open the passenger’s side door and jumped out. He ran across the overgrown grass to the front door and rapped on it with his clenched fist. Sandra got out, and by the time she could catch up and join him, the door had slowly creaked opened and Joel Metcalf stood there. His perturbed expression melted away at the sight of Jack.

  “Sorry we didn’t call first,” Jack said.

  “Don’t be silly,” Joel scoffed. “Kevin will be so happy you’re here.”

  He enveloped Jack in a brief bear hug and then stepped aside and ushered him into the house. “He’s in the living room watching TV.”

  Jack scooted inside as Joel gave Sandra a half-hearted smile. “Looks like we both have kids at home for the foreseeable future.”

  “You already heard?” Sandra asked, surprised.

  “News travels fast in these parts.”

  “Yes, but we literally just left the school. You should be working as a reporter for the Portland Press Herald.”

  “My politics are too conservative for them,” Joel laughed. “Come on in, I’ll put a pot of coffee on.”

  As Sandra entered the house and headed to the kitchen, she had to pass the living room, where she spotted Jack sitting on the couch with his buddy Kevin. The boys were already engaged in an intense conversation. Kevin looked rail-thin, drawn, and tired. He had on a pair of grungy gray sweatpants and a wrinkled black T-shirt with the number 83 on it, which was the same number as his football jersey.

  “How are you, Kevin?” Sandra asked.

  He turned and stared at her with a blank expression, almost as if he had no idea who she was. After blinking a few times, he registered a slight hint of recognition. “Fine, thanks, Mrs. W.”

  Joel herded Sandra into the kitchen before she had a chance to say anything else and pulled out a chair for her at the small rickety table. He then moved to the coffeemaker and began pouring a bag of grounds into the top. “It’s been rough going. He got home from the hospital, and I’m supposed to put him in a rehab program, but we have some insurance issues, and it’s not as easy as people think. So basically I’ve been the one helping him get detoxed.”

  “On your own? Joel, that’s crazy. You need professional help,” Sandra said, concerned.

  “If you know of anybody who works for free, be sure to let me know,” he growled before catching himself and softening his tone. “It’s just hard.”

  Sandra stood up and walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. “If there is anything I can do . . .”

  He turned to face her, his eyes moist with tears. “I hate to ask . . .”

  She knew what was coming.

  She had heard it many times before.

  “Stephen . . . ,” she whispered.

  Joel nodded. “Yes. People will listen to him. Maybe he can cut through some of the red tape and get us some state aid or something, just speed up the process so Kevin doesn’t fall too far backward.”

  “He flew back to DC last night, but I will call him and see what he can do. I promise.”

  “I appreciate it,” Joel said, eyes lowered, embarrassed.

  “Do you have any idea when Kevin might be well enough to go back to school?”

  Joel shrugged. “I honestly think the boy would be better off if he never did go back. I swear, Sandra, if I wasn’t a high school dropout, I’d homeschool him myself.”

  “I really don’t think that’s the answer. Kevin would miss out socially. He has lots of friends; look at Jack—”

  “Yes, Jack’s a good kid, but have you heard what those other snot-nosed bastards in his class are saying about him?”

  “It wasn’t one of his classmates. It was just some dumb player from the visiting team.”

  “I’m not talking about what happened at the game on Saturday. Have you seen this?” Joel asked as he scooped up a laptop from the counter and set it down in front of Sandra on the kitchen table.

  Sandra stared at the screen. It was the Dirty Laundry website and the latest headline. Just above the salacious allegations about Stephen’s sexual harassment scandal was a teasing story about Kevin Metcalf’s losing battle with drug addiction.

  “Go on, read it,” Joel barked. “They’re saying he’s practically dead and buried already!”

  Sandra read the first few sentences but could not go on any further. She closed the computer. “You shouldn’t be reading this filth, Joel. We both know there is not a shred of truth to anything this person writes.”

  Joel’s fury grew. His face turned a deep red, his eyes were blazing, and the veins on his neck began to pop out. His finger shook as he raised it and pointed it at her. “I swear to you, Sandra, if I find out who is behind this despicable site, whether it’s one person or a dozen . . . I will hunt them down, and, I swear to God, I will wrap my hands around every last neck responsible and squeeze as hard as I can . . . until I hear the last gasps of air come out of their big, lying mouths . . .”

  “Joel, please . . . ,” Sandra whispered urgently, not wanting to hear any more.

  She shuddered to think he was capable of such violence, but in her gut, she knew he was dead serious.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Maya took the check from her client Jessica Farrow, who sat across from her in a hard-back chair, a satisfied smile on her face. Maya glanced down at the number of zeroes in the amount scribbled on the check and tried hard not to break out into a wide grin.

  “Thank you,” Maya said gratefully.

  All of the bills were now going to get paid this month.

  “It was a job well done. That photographic evidence you captured of Cyrus sucking face with that silicone-infused dimwit he’s been boffing on the side just secured me the house on the cape in the divorce settlement.”

  Whatever makes you happy, Maya thought to herself. She folded her hands and rested them on the desk and decided to drive home her usual sales pitch. “If you ever find yourself in need of our services again . . .”

  Jessica Farrow stood up and extended her hand. “I will be sure to keep you in mind. I have many wealthy girlfriends, most of whom are also married to horny cheating husbands, so I’ll be sure to keep your number on hand.”

  “I certainly appreciate it, Mrs. Farrow,” Maya said, jumping up from her chair and shaking her hand.

  “Jessica, please. I thought about going back to my maiden name after the divorce papers are signed, but then I thought, the name Farrow also gets me a good table at most of the finer restaurants in the Old Port.”

  “Wise thinking.”

  “Are you married, Maya?”

  “Yes, I mean, well, no, not anymore—”

  It was such a simple question, why did she always fumble it so badly?

  “One of the smart ones, I see,” Jessica said with a wink.

  Maya wasn’t too sure about that. She could barely cover her electric bill, and Jessica Farrow was about to secure the deed to a sprawling mansion situated next to the Kennedy compound in Cape Cod.

  Jessica turned to leave, when there was a quick knock on the door. It flew open and Vanessa s
tood in the doorway.

  “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were with a client,” Vanessa said sheepishly.

  “Why aren’t you in school?” Maya asked.

  “It’s almost four thirty. School was over an hour ago,” Vanessa sighed.

  Maya checked her watch. “Oh. I guess I lost track of time. Don’t you have theater rehearsal or something?”

  “Not until six. I told you that this morning.”

  “That’s right,” Maya smiled apologetically. “I remember now.”

  “Is this your daughter?” Jessica asked, taking a step toward Vanessa, who still hovered in the doorway, not sure if she should come in.

  “Yes, this is Vanessa,” Maya said.

  “She’s gorgeous,” Jessica exclaimed.

  Maya and Vanessa both spoke at the same time. “Thank you.”

  “I have to run. Thanks again, Maya. I’ll be in touch,” Jessica said, breezing past Vanessa, down the hall, the clicking of her high heels fading as she rounded the corner toward the elevator.

  Vanessa waited until she was completely gone before slipping into the office and closing the door behind her. “Did she give you a check?”

  Maya held it up in front of her. “Five grand.”

  “Awesome!” Vanessa said. “Now I won’t have to study at night by candlelight. I can actually use a lamp with a light bulb and electricity and everything.”

  “Don’t be flippant,” Maya scolded. “What are you doing here?”

  “Can’t a loving daughter just pop by her mother’s office to say hello after a long day of learning at school?”

  “Of course. But you’re not that kind of loving daughter. You would only swing by here if you needed something.”

  “That hurt,” Vanessa said, putting on a fake pout.

  “It was meant to,” Maya said matter-of-factly. “So what do you need?”

  Vanessa contemplated pretending some more that her motive for this unexpected visit was pure, but she quickly gave up on that and came clean. “I need a favor.”

  “I’m listening . . .”

  “This Dirty Laundry site is getting way out of hand. It’s literally tearing my school apart.”

  “I’m very aware of that. But it’s only thriving because every student is clicking on the site constantly to read the latest gossipy headline. If everybody at your school boycotted it, the site would lose oxygen and finally wither away and die. It’s a very simple solution.”

  “Well, we both know that’s never going to happen. People can’t help themselves. They’re too curious to know what story the site is going to break next.”

  “Including you,” Maya said.

  “Yes, including me. All my friends, they check it out three, sometimes four times a day. I have to keep up.”

  “What can I do?”

  Vanessa took a deep breath and then planted both of her hands down on her mother’s desk. “I want you to investigate the site and find out who’s behind it.”

  “You want to hire me?”

  “Yes. Well, obviously I can’t pay you anything.”

  “Obviously.”

  “But you’re a really good detective, and if anybody can finger who is hurting people at the school and causing so much pain, it’s you.”

  “I appreciate the flattery, but you know I don’t have the time to do it.”

  “What are you talking about? You just wrapped up your only case. You made five grand.”

  “Yes, and that five grand will pay for all the bills I didn’t pay in September and all the ones pouring in now for October. I also have November to worry about now. I need to focus on finding a paying client with real, honest-to-goodness money.”

  “Can’t you multitask? You’ve always been so good at that.”

  “Vanessa, I can’t . . .”

  “I know it’s been tough with Frances gone so much, and I’m willing to drop out of the musical and come work at the office every day and night after school to help out if that’s what it takes.”

  “You really want me to do this?”

  “Yes, I do. I believe in you, and what this person who runs the site is doing is wrong, and I really want to expose him or her.”

  “How did I raise such a conscientious daughter?”

  “It was mostly Dad,” Vanessa joked.

  “I’m not even going to touch that one.”

  “It was a joke. Everyone knows Dad’s in prison. I honestly think he would find that funny. I get my dark humor from him.”

  Maya leaned forward in her chair and tapped her fingers on the desk, thinking.

  Vanessa folded her arms. “If you’re really worried about the money, you can take your retainer fee from my college fund.”

  “What college fund?”

  Vanessa sat upright. “I don’t have a college fund?”

  Maya cracked a smile. “Your father isn’t the only one with a sly sense of humor.”

  Vanessa laughed. “So you’ll do it?”

  “I’ll do it,” Maya sighed. “But if a paying client comes along, that case takes priority. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Vanessa quickly agreed.

  Maya couldn’t believe she had just been hired by a new client.

  Her own daughter.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  This was Maya’s first time back in the precinct where she once worked since the day she had handed in her letter of resignation to the acting captain, cleaned out her locker, and marched out the door, ignoring the mix of sympathetic and judgmental looks from her fellow officers. It had been a painful time, an exceedingly stressful period in her life. She had thought she had finally managed to purge all the broiling emotions that she had felt during those final days as a police officer—her feelings of failure, of complicity in her husband’s crimes by turning a blind eye to all the signs. But to her surprise, they still lingered and came bubbling to the surface every so often, especially now as she entered the building.

  Her mind replayed that awful scene, that fateful day when she was sitting at her desk, typing up a report on her computer, and federal agents flashing their FBI badges stormed into the precinct and placed her boss and husband, Captain Max Kendrick, under arrest. She would never forget the look on his face as they carted him away, an uneasy combination of shame and defiance. He stared straight ahead, not making eye contact with anyone, not even his wife, who called out to him, who at the time was naively confident that this had to be some terrible mistake.

  But of course it wasn’t. And after she was confronted with the evidence and had to accept that her life as she knew it was officially over, there had to be major changes, the first of which was quitting. She could never carry out her duties as a police officer with the shadow of her husband’s crimes following her everywhere. And so her dream of becoming Portland, Maine’s first female chief of police had come to a swift and bitter end.

  “Looking for me?”

  Maya spun around.

  It was Detective Mateo Reyes.

  Frances’s fix-up.

  The really hot one.

  “No,” Maya said, perhaps a bit too quickly.

  He looked slightly wounded but covered with a smile. “Aw, I was sure you realized you had made a huge mistake by not giving me a chance to take you to dinner sometime and so you came here to ask me out.”

  “Sorry,” Maya said, although there was a small part of her that wondered if she should take a chance and do just that.

  But she was on a mission and didn’t have time to indulge in a rom-com scene with Frances’s friend, despite the fact that he was so startlingly good-looking and, on the surface, perfectly charming.

  “Okay, heartbreaker, how can I help you?” Mateo asked.

  “I’m looking for Oscar Dunford.”

  “I see. So you prefer the bookish computer-geek type?”

  “I don’t have a type. I just need to talk to him.”

  She didn’t have time to play games. Maya knew she was probably coming off as cold and distant to this gu
y, and she felt bad about that, but if she let her guard down, then she just might probably relent and agree to go out on a date with him. And she had no intention of even going there.

  At least not right now.

  “Is he still in the same office?” Maya asked.

  Mateo nodded. “Yup. Day and night. The guy never leaves this place. I’m guessing it’s due to a lack of a rewarding social life.”

  Maya cracked a half smile, and then turned on her heel and headed down the hall.

  “Nice seeing you again, Maya,” Mateo called out after her. “I’m just going to stand here now and pretend I’m not dying inside from yet another rejection.”

  Cute.

  But not cute enough to get her to turn around and keep the conversation going. She walked all the way down the hall to the last office on the left, otherwise known as the cybercrimes unit. It wasn’t a real unit, just in name only. The South Portland Police Department could hardly afford to fund a whole unit dedicated to solving cybercrimes. They basically had one guy who was good with computers.

  Oscar Dunford was more of an IT guy than a cop, but they gave him a badge because his services proved invaluable when it came to investigating computer-related cases. He was an unabashed nerd and spent his free time role-playing in some avatar fantasy adventure that Maya didn’t even pretend to understand. But they had become fast friends from the day he showed up for his first day at work and got Maya’s decades-old desktop computer running smoothly again after it froze up on her with just a few quick clicks.

  As she rounded the corner, she spotted Oscar standing by a communal coffee station, holding a cup of steaming coffee in one hand while wiping off some he had just spilled on his shirt with the other. His face was red, and he looked as if he was silently cursing himself for being so clumsy.

  “Check the fridge for some club soda. That should get the stain out,” Maya offered.

  The tension in Oscar’s face melted away at the sight of Maya.