by Lee Hollis
“Maya! Have you come back to rescue me from my dreary existence, like Richard Gere in his white military uniform, who marches in and scoops factory worker Debra Winger up in his arms and carries her off to live happily ever after?”
“Is that a movie you’re talking about?”
“An Officer and a Gentleman, 1982.”
“That’s like ten years before you were even born.”
“Big film buff, especially the classics.”
“Well, I appreciate you making me the hero and you the love interest. That’s very enlightened of you.”
“I’m very giving that way.”
“I need a favor.”
“You know I am hopelessly in love with you and willing to do anything to curry favor with you on the off chance you might someday go out on a date with me.”
“You too? What is with you guys? Hasn’t the Me Too movement taught you anything?”
“Well, since you are no longer an employee here, technically you can’t accuse me of sexual harassment in the workplace.”
He dropped the soiled napkin in the trash bin and then moved to the small refrigerator and opened it. “We’re out of club soda. I guess I’m going to have to live with the stain. At least it will now match most of my other shirts at home.”
He shuffled off down the hall to his small, cramped office. Maya followed him and sat across from him as he settled back down at his desk. He took a sip from his paper cup of hot coffee and burned his lip. Maya suppressed a smile. She really did have an affection for him, especially his gawky demeanor and lovesick-puppy personality.
“There is a website out there hurting a lot of people. Do you think you can trace the IP address?” Maya asked.
“In my sleep.”
“I’ll need it as fast as possible.”
“I can stay late tonight if you bring me dinner.”
“I’m serving my kid leftover lasagna from last night. You okay with that?”
“I have a craving for takeout from Saeng Thai House.”
Maya sighed. “Crab rangoon and crispy pad thai?”
“You remember! See, we belong together.”
She stood up. “Thanks, Oscar. I’ll be back later.”
“It will be our first date.”
“Sure,” Maya said, laughing.
“So how far do you usually go on a first date?”
“No kiss, but maybe after you give me the IP address, I’ll scoop you up in my arms and carry you to your car so you can at least pretend you’re Debra Winger.”
“Deal!”
He was around five feet four and a 135 pounds. Maya figured she could carry Oscar around, so it was a relatively easy concession to make, and it would be a good story for Oscar to tell his buddies with whom he played all those fantasy-adventure games.
And for that very small price, she would know the name of the mean-spirited mastermind behind the Dirty Laundry site.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Step down?” Sandra whispered frantically as she stared into the frightened eyes of Assistant Principal Maisie Portman in the hallway outside the administrative offices at the high school.
Maisie shifted uncomfortably, upset over having been tasked with this delicate assignment of requesting Sandra’s resignation as PTA president.
“But I’ve barely even started,” Sandra argued, still stunned by what she had just heard.
“I know, and if it was up to me, I wouldn’t even be standing here asking you to do this, but as you know, this is not up to me. I’m just following his orders.”
“On what grounds does Mr. Hicks have for wanting me to quit?”
“I think we’re both fully aware of the reason,” Maisie muttered.
“The Dirty Laundry piece? Oh, come on, Maisie, there is not one shred of truth to those ridiculous rumors, and everyone knows it. I already spoke to him about this, and he said not to worry.”
“Yes, but that was before John met with the school board. They’re scared by any whiff of scandal, and with all the publicity about your . . . predicament . . . swirling around, they . . . I mean, he just thinks it might be a good idea for someone else to take over temporarily . . . just until all that nasty business blows over.”
“But if we give in now, it will only embolden the person behind the Dirty Laundry website to keep printing lies about the teachers and students and administrators. Who knows, Maisie? You could be next.”
If Maisie had been wearing pearls, she would have clutched them at that moment. She vigorously shook her head, aghast. “But I haven’t done anything. . . .”
“Neither have I,” Sandra said evenly.
“I appreciate your point, and I agree wholeheartedly that it’s simply not fair. But I’m sorry, Sandra, my hands are tied. This is what Johnny wants.”
“Johnny?”
Maisie cleared her throat. “I mean Mr. Hicks.”
“Whatever happened to ‘innocent until proven guilty’?”
“Unfortunately this is a classroom, not a courtroom,” Maisie said.
Sandra pondered this for a few moments, considered her options, and then smiled at Maisie. “You’re right.”
Maisie breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I think it’s for the best.”
“Hicks is a principal, not a judge. He can’t force me to do anything. I’m not resigning. If he wants me gone, he’s going to have to force a school board vote to have me removed, and believe me, if you think I’m above making a stink in the press, you’re dead wrong. How about this for a headline? ‘U.S. Senator’s Wife Fired from PTA Over Unsubstantiated Rumors by Skittish Principal and Scared School Board!’”
Maisie blanched and her mouth dropped open.
“And I’m not just talking about Dirty Laundry, I’m talking about the Washington Post. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a PTA meeting to run.”
Sandra marched down the hall toward the high school auditorium, leaving a defeated Maisie in her wake. She felt bad for Maisie. After all, she was just the messenger, but Sandra was in no way going to be bullied by Principal Hicks and punished for a false story. Even if the rumors about Stephen’s scandal had been true, it had nothing to do with her. In her mind, it was outright misogynistic for Hicks to go after her, of all people. The wife! She had actually liked Hicks in the beginning, but now his true colors were showing, and she was not going to be a victim of his and the school board’s rash, self-serving decision-making.
As Sandra rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. Down the hall, Ryan had a pretty girl pushed up against the locker. Ryan’s head blocked the girl’s face, but they were both pelvis to pelvis and their lips were locked tightly together as they swapped spit and groped each other. His hands were firmly planted on her butt, and Sandra let out an audible gasp. Luckily they didn’t hear her because the sudden shouting from the auditorium easily drowned it out.
Ryan and his girlfriend ignored the commotion, never even bothering to come up for air, but Sandra knew that whatever conflict was unfolding in the auditorium had to do with her PTA meeting, and, as president, she needed to be there. She would just have to deal with her son’s sexually aggressive and very public behavior later at home.
Sandra scurried through the doors to the auditorium in time to see two men down near the stage, standing so close to each other their noses were almost touching, screaming at each other. She raced down the aisle, but before she could even inquire as to what it all was about, one of them, a bald, brawny bear of a man with a goatee lunged at the other man, who was also big and flabby but clean-shaven, so his multiple chins were pronounced, and wearing a Red Sox ball cap to cover up some of his greasy long hair. The two men, suddenly locked in a hug, looked as if they were dancing at first, but then they crashed into a crowd of worried onlookers, mostly women, and fell to the floor, where they rolled around, punching each other as hard as they could while wheezing mightily from the effort.
Sandra tried pulling the bald one off the flabby one, who was flat on hi
s back now, covering his face with his hands as Baldy pummeled him with his fists.
The guy was at least three times the size of Sandra, so she had no luck stopping the fight. When a few of the other fathers, transfixed by this unexpected wrestling match, finally realized a pint-size woman, a U.S. senator’s wife no less, was physically trying to stop this all on her own, their sense of duty finally kicked in, and they all converged to help her. One of the men managed to get Baldy into a headlock while a couple of the other dads helped haul Flabby to his feet and restrained him by pinning back his arms. Both men were red-faced and still fighting mad.
“What the hell is this all about?” Sandra shouted.
“His druggy daughter gave opioids to my youngest, a freshman!” Flabby screamed.
“That’s a lie, you fat bastard! It was your punk kid who was the one selling pills to her fourteen-year-old classmates in the lunchroom!”
Sandra turned to one of the mothers, Mrs. Brandt, who was watching the whole scene with a horrified look on her face. “Where is all this coming from?”
“Where else?” Mrs. Brandt said. “Dirty Laundry.”
Suddenly Flabby tore away from the two men holding him by the arms and slammed into Baldy, reigniting the brawl all over again. They tumbled into the first row of seats as a gaggle of women scattered to avoid getting body-checked.
Sandra had seen enough. After shouting one more warning, which unsurprisingly went unheeded, she snatched her phone from her purse and called 911.
She knew once the police arrived to break up the fight, her scheduled PTA meeting would have to be canceled. There was no way they would be able to get any school business done now. She would just have to postpone until everybody had a chance to cool down.
She could already hear Principal Hicks spinning the outburst as Sandra’s inability to control her own meeting, how it might be best to have a stronger presence in charge in order to avoid another unfortunate incident such as this one. There was no doubt in her mind that this was going to be a gift to him. But despite her diminutive stature and ladylike demeanor, Sandra was a scrappy fighter and fully capable of defending her turf.
So bring it on.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
After talking with the police officers who immediately managed to calm down the situation and send the two men home with a stern warning about how they would be arrested and charged if they ever resorted to physical violence again, especially on school grounds, Sandra excused herself and walked outside to her car. As she rummaged through her purse for her handy bottle of Advil, she ran smack into someone, who was staring at her phone and didn’t see the collision coming either.
“Oh, I’m sorry . . . ,” Sandra said to the surprised woman.
“No, totally my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” the woman said with an apologetic smile.
Sandra was struck by how pretty the woman was, not pretty exactly, more beautiful, like a tall runway model, except much more casual. She fit perfectly into a tight pair of jeans and the white blouse and suede jacket she wore matched her long, curly raven hair and gorgeous brown complexion.
The woman quickly pocketed her phone and kept going. Sandra watched her head off and then called after her. “Do we know each other?”
The woman stopped and turned around. She seemed to recognize Sandra. “We went to high school together.”
“We did?” Sandra asked, studying the woman’s face. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember. Sandra Wallage.”
The woman smiled, not surprised. “I’m Maya Kendrick, but my maiden name is Ramirez.”
“Maya Ramirez, of course! I remember you now! Do you have a kid who goes here?”
“Yes, a daughter.”
“How have we not run into each other before this?”
Maya shrugged. “I don’t make it to a lot of the PTA meetings unfortunately because of work.”
“What are you doing now?”
“Private investigator.”
Sandra perked up. “How exciting.”
“It’s really not.”
Sandra couldn’t help but stare at Maya. “Wow. You’re just as beautiful now as you were in high school.”
“Thanks. I honestly didn’t think you would remember me.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, we definitely ran in different circles. You were the fun-loving ponytailed-cheerleader type at the pep rally, and I spent most of high school hanging around the smoking area bumming cigarettes off the bad boys I met in detention.”
Sandra chuckled. “I don’t remember you that way. I recall you being very sweet when we sat next to each other in chemistry class.”
“That’s because I was buttering you up so I could cheat off your paper.”
“That wasn’t very smart on your part. I think I failed chemistry.”
“No, we both got C minuses. For obvious reasons. Luckily my daughter doesn’t take after me academically.”
Sandra laughed. “Neither do my sons, thank God! What’s your daughter’s name?”
“Vanessa. Vanessa Kendrick.”
“I don’t know her. Are you here to pick her up?”
“No, she already has a ride home.”
“Well, if you’re here for the PTA meeting, I’m sorry to say you came for nothing. I had to cancel it.”
“No, actually I’m here on a work-related matter.”
Sandra leaned in to her and in an excited, hushed tone, asked, “Are you working on a case?”
She noticed Maya was being very tight-lipped, but she couldn’t resist asking more questions. “Is someone at the school in some kind of trouble?”
“I really can’t talk about it.”
“Teacher or student?”
“I really can’t talk about it.”
Sandra knew she was being annoying, but her curiosity was piqued, and once that happened, it was very hard to let something go.
“I understand. Maybe you could just nod yes or no. Student?”
Maya smiled, but it wasn’t a full smile. She was just humoring Sandra. She gave a quick shake of her head just to appease her.
“So it’s a teacher,” Sandra exclaimed.
Maya gave her another shake.
“Someone in the administration.”
“That’s all you get. It was nice seeing you, Sandra.”
Maya marched past her toward the entrance to the school. Sandra did an about-face and scurried along to catch up with her.
“I’ll walk with you.”
“I thought you were leaving.”
“I think I left something in the auditorium.”
“What?” Maya challenged her.
“My car keys.”
“I saw your car. You don’t need a key. It automatically unlocks when you touch the door handle.”
“You really are an observant detective.”
Once they were inside, Maya stopped and turned to Sandra. “This is where we part ways. The auditorium is that way, and I’m going this way.”
Sandra was out of ideas on how to stall anymore, so she slapped on a smile and shook Maya’s hand. “I hope we meet again.”
Maya mumbled something, obviously not as keen as Sandra to rekindle any kind of friendship. And then she turned on her heel and walked in the direction of the administrative offices.
Sandra knew she shouldn’t, but she waited a few seconds, and then quickly slipped out of her high heels and quietly padded after Maya in her nylon stocking feet, carrying her shoes by the white leather straps. Sandra stopped just short of the offices right around the corner, pressed her back to the wall, and poked her head around to see Maya knocking on the office door of Assistant Principal Maisie Portman.
Maya waited patiently for almost a minute and then knocked again.
Still no answer.
“Ms. Portman, it’s Maya Kendrick. I need you to open up. We have to talk,” Maya said.
She tried one more time.
Knock, knock, knock.
Nothing.
Sandra watched Maya try the door handle. It was unlocked. She slowly opened it and stepped inside the dark office. A light switched on, and Sandra heard someone gasp.
Unable to take the suspense anymore, Sandra tiptoed over and peeked inside the office.
Maya stood in the middle of the room, on her phone, talking to someone. Behind her, Maisie Portman dangled in midair, hanging from a rope that had been tied around a ceiling joist. There was an upended chair on the floor nearby and she noticed a note taped to the lapel of Maisie’s purple long-sleeve cardigan. Her dead eyes stared right at Sandra.
Sandra heard screaming, which caused Maya to spin around in surprise.
That’s when Sandra realized the screams were coming from her own mouth.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Maya moved quickly to usher the frantic, hysterical woman out of the office before she contaminated any evidence but not before Sandra had managed to push her way far enough inside to read the note pinned to the lapel of Maisie Portman’s purple cardigan. It was hastily scribbled with a black felt marker on a yellow Post-it note.
I am the creator of Dirty Laundry. I am sorry I hurt so many people. The guilt was just too much to bear. Goodbye.
“You can’t be in here,” Maya barked as she gripped Sandra by the arm and led her back out into the hallway. “You might contaminate evidence.”
“It was her . . . ,” Sandra whispered, in a state of shock. “I can’t believe it.... Why would she . . . ?”
“That’s what I came here to find out,” Maya said.
Sandra suddenly snapped out of her haze and zeroed in on Maya. “You knew she was behind the Dirty Laundry site?”
“Yes. I had a friend trace the IP address to a school computer and an email account linked to Maisie.”
“But that’s crazy. She was the last person—”
“It’s always the last person you would expect,” Maya said matter-of-factly.
They could hear sirens approaching in the distance.
“Wait here,” Maya ordered before she headed back into the office to study the body.
“I thought you said we had to stay out here in the hallway so as not to contaminate evidence,” Sandra said, folding her arms.