Murder at the PTA

by Lee Hollis

  A few seconds later, Frances opened it.

  “Maya, what are you doing here so late?”

  “Were you expecting Mateo?”

  “Mateo? What are you talking about?”

  “It’s over, Frances. I know everything.”

  There was a moment’s hesitation as Frances considered her next move, but it only took another glance at Maya’s hardened face, the disappointment and feeling of betrayal in her blazing eyes, for Frances to believe it truly was over. She grabbed her belly, and Maya thought she was going to fake labor pains in order to gain some last-minute sympathy, but she didn’t. She just held on to her pregnant belly and looked down, ashamed of herself.

  “Where is he?” Frances whispered.

  “Down in the van. Sandra’s watching him. He tried to kill us.”

  Frances gasped and looked back up. “What?”

  “He was trying to take care of loose ends. Like you did with poor Maisie Portman.”

  “I never wanted any of this to ever touch you, Maya, I swear. Mateo promised he wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “He lied,” Maya said coldly.

  At that moment, a woman appeared at Maya’s side. She was rather stern-looking, in her midforties. She wasn’t wearing a uniform, but she still gave off the air of a police officer. “This is Sally Jordan from Internal Affairs. Have you two met yet?”

  Sally didn’t offer her hand or greet her with a smile. She just pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

  “I called Sally on the way over here and let her know what was going on. She’s here to take you in.”

  Frances didn’t argue. She simply opened the door to let them both inside.

  “Give me a minute to change before we go, would you, please?” Frances quietly asked.

  Sally nodded and replied gruffly, “Make it quick.”

  Suddenly Coach Vinnie ambled in from the bedroom. “We got any more Bud Lights in the fridge, babe?” He stopped at the sight of Maya and the strange nonresponsive woman next to her. “Hey, Maya, you’re just in time. Bottom of the seventh. Red Sox up by two.”

  “We can’t stay, Vinnie,” Maya said softly.

  Vinnie looked around, his eyes settling on his shattered girlfriend, who was barely managing to hold it together at this point. “Frances, is something wrong?”

  Maya knew then that Coach Vinnie had been in the dark this whole time about his fiancée’s criminal misdeeds.

  And she hated to have to be the one to break the news to him as IA officer Sally Ross escorted Frances into the bedroom to get her changed and to make sure she didn’t try to climb out a window to flee down the fire escape.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  The United flight from Portland to Washington, DC, was predictably delayed, taking off almost ninety minutes past its scheduled departure time due to a vague maintenance issue. Once Sandra was buckled into her first-class seat and the small commuter jet was finally airborne and heading south to the nation’s capital, she wondered if this rash decision had been the right one. She had been up all night, unable to sleep, but by morning, after getting the boys off to school, she had decided it was the right time to do this. She cleared her calendar, booked the flight at the last minute on her laptop, and then, without packing an overnight bag, she got in her car and drove straight to the airport.

  When the plane landed just after noon, she walked straight outside to the taxi line, and within minutes was riding in the back of a yellow cab zipping along Interstate 66 east, listening to her driver drone on about the latest band of protesters outside the White House clogging up traffic on Pennsylvania Avenue. Forty minutes later, she was dropped off in front of the Russell Senate Office Building on Constitution Avenue. After alerting security that she was there to see her husband, the junior U.S. senator from the state of Maine, she waited in the magnificent rotunda area, watching the hustle and bustle of press, lobbyists, pages, and politicians conducting business and interviews on what appeared to be a particularly busy day.

  Finally, after almost fifteen minutes, Sandra spotted the smug smile of her husband’s aide Preston Lambert approaching.

  “Mrs. Wallage,” he said brightly. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

  She knew what he really wanted to say was, What the hell are you doing here? But he was too smart to let his real feelings come into the light.

  “I need to speak with Stephen,” she said coldly.

  He was a little thrown off guard by her abrupt demeanor but worked hard to cover with a breezy air of jocularity. “Does Stephen know you’re in town, because I swear I heard him mention you were home in Portland this morning?”

  “I just arrived.”

  “I see,” he said, trying to read her face and figure out just what this was all about.

  Preston led her into the elevator, and on the short ride up to the office, he tried his hand at some small talk. “I heard the police made an arrest in that nasty business involving the vice principal’s death at the high school up there.”

  “Yes, they did,” Sandra answered politely, but in a clipped tone.

  Finally realizing he was failing miserably at turning on the charm for his boss’s wife, Preston gave up, and they walked the rest of the way down the hall in silence after getting off the elevator.

  Once they were inside the reception area of Stephen’s senate office, Preston absentmindedly adjusted his tie. “Can I get you some coffee?”

  Sandra shook her head. “No, thank you.”

  “He’s just wrapping up a meeting. He shouldn’t be too long,” Preston said, still a little discombobulated by Sandra’s surprise appearance in DC.

  “Hello, Mrs. Wallage,” said a cute, young African American girl in her early twenties from behind a desk. It was another aide, Suzanne. This one she liked, so she offered a warm smile.

  “Nice to see you again, Suzanne. I love that blouse.”

  “Thank you! I got it on sale at Nordstrom Rack! They have the best stuff!”

  Preston grimaced that Sandra seemed more pleased to see a lowly assistant. It would be so much easier for him if he possessed a genuine personality like Suzanne.

  After ten more minutes, the door to Stephen’s office opened and he escorted out a gorgeous woman in her thirties, confident, immaculately dressed in a perfectly tailored business suit. He had a hand resting on her lower back.

  “Get me whatever information you can on the drug trials before the vote,” he said as she turned and shook his hand.

  “Will do, Stephen, I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice,” the woman said.

  Stephen, who had obviously been alerted to his wife’s arrival by Preston, led the woman over to Sandra. “Darling, this is Deborah Crowley from the Commonwealth Fund. This is my wife, Sandra.”

  The woman grabbed Sandra’s hand and pumped it. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Sandra went right into politician’s wife mode. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Crowley. I love the work that you people do.”

  There was a slight awkward pause after they got the pleasantries out of the way as Stephen stared at her, still trying to figure out what she was doing here, like his irritating aide, Preston. Once the daily schedule was set, no one in the office liked any disruptions or distractions. Except Suzanne, who seemed honestly happy to see Sandra.

  Once Deborah Crowley was gone, Stephen took Sandra into his arms, planted a kiss on her cheek, and then whisked her into his office, stopping only to say to Suzanne, “Hold my calls.”

  He shut the door behind them. “Why didn’t you tell me you were making a trip down here?”

  “Because I just decided to come this morning.”

  “Did you drop your luggage off at the apartment first?”

  “I’m not staying. I’ve booked a return flight later this afternoon. I want to be back by the time the boys come home for dinner tonight.”

  “I see,” he said warily.

  They both sat down on the couch.

  Stephen studied
her face. “So what is it? Is it something serious?”

  His eyes flicked away as if he was struggling with how to act, not sure what was coming next, or if he was prepared to hear it.

  Sandra took a deep breath and exhaled. “I think we should separate.”

  The color drained from Stephen’s face.

  She couldn’t tell if it was because she wanted a separation or because he suddenly feared the political fallout of a separation.

  “Why?”

  “Why? Stephen, you know why.”

  “If this is about that false rumor on that muckraking website—”

  “It’s not just about that. This has been a long time coming. I’m not saying we should officially file papers or anything like that, I just need a breather, that’s all. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately, and it feels right to just take a break.”

  “For how long?”

  “I don’t know.”

  His mind raced. He despised not being in control, and right now he was not in control. He reached out to take her hand, but she demurred and moved it away.

  “Wow . . . ,” he said, stunned she had so obviously rebuffed him. “So the fact that I want to work on our marriage and try to fix whatever it is that’s broken, that doesn’t matter to you right now?”

  “I just need time.”

  He knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere with her, at least not now. So he conceded defeat and just nodded his head. “Okay . . . I guess I’ll stay at the apartment here until you figure out what you need to figure out.”

  “Thank you for understanding.”

  His phone buzzed. It was a text. “Preston is going crazy not knowing what’s going on in here. He’s trying to get me to my next appointment.”

  “Well, I would hate to make Preston’s life more difficult, so I’m going to go now.”

  Sandra stood up.

  Stephen sat on the couch a moment longer, still reeling from Sandra’s sudden and unexpected announcement. But then he hauled himself up and looked into Sandra’s eyes. He had a knowing, guilty look on his face, like he was painfully aware why all of this was happening. Sandra gave him a wan smile and then turned and left the office.

  “Goodbye, Suzanne,” she said as she brusquely passed a confused-looking Preston and walked out the door.

  “’Bye, Mrs. Wallage!” Suzanne called after her.

  As she marched down the hall toward the elevator, she faintly heard Preston exclaim, “What was all that about?”

  She had a few hours to kill before her flight, so she took a taxi to the Lincoln Memorial. It was her favorite monument in all of Washington. Whenever she was in town, she loved to sit on the steps, just under the watchful eye of Honest Abe, and behold all the landmarks. She wondered if perhaps she had been too rash in her decision. The last few weeks had profoundly changed her; her friendship with Maya had opened her eyes to a whole new world she had yet to explore. But did that mean she had to upend her marriage in order to do that?

  Her instinct was telling her this had been the right call.

  But she always could be counted on to second-guess herself.

  However, after a quick lunch alone and some retail therapy at Nordstrom Rack, when she was back in a taxi on her way to Washington Dulles and her flight home to Maine, her phone lit up with a Washington Post breaking-news headline. “U.S. Senator Admits to Using Taxpayer Money to Hush Up Sexual Harrassment Claim.”

  Sandra stared at the headline.

  She didn’t have to open her phone and read the whole story.

  She had already pored over all the details on the Dirty Laundry website, which first broke the story that now a major newspaper was finally confirming.

  She stared out the window knowing that, yes, she had made the right call.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  When Maya asked Coach Vinnie to dinner, she had tried to talk him into meeting her at a nice, fine-dining establishment in the Old Port, but he had politely declined, opting for a hidden corner booth in a loud, cheap diner near his home that boasted tasty burgers and salty fries, but above all, a modicum of privacy. It was true Coach Vinnie was a no-frills kind of guy to begin with, who didn’t like having to wear a button-up shirt to eat, but most important to him these days was that he didn’t want to risk the stares of the locals, who would undoubtedly give him pitying looks, or even worse, come up to him and tell him he was in their thoughts and prayers, or if there was anything they could do to make his life a little easier, to please let them know. Vinnie didn’t want anything from these people, especially their pity.

  After Frances’s arrest, the police had quickly concluded that Vinnie had been an innocent party. Frances had jumped through a lot of hoops to keep it that way. She knew the man she loved was dedicated to his job at the school and in many ways being a football coach defined who he was, and he worshipped the opportunity to make a living doing what he loved most. Maya knew a part of why Frances went to such desperate lengths to put a lid on the scandal that was threatening to boil over wasn’t simply due to self-preservation. She was also protecting her partner from suffering because of her own actions.

  Vinnie fundamentally knew this, but that didn’t make adjusting to life without Frances any easier. He vowed to stand by her during her trial, but Maya was already seeing cracks in this commitment as the allegations and charges came so startlingly into focus after her arrest. Vinnie publicly maintained his support, but she had heard through a few mutual friends that he was stunned by the breadth of crimes Frances and Mateo had been involved with, and he was starting to distance himself. However, because of the fact that they were about to be parents together, he knew that would inexplicably keep their lives entwined forever.

  When she first arrived to find him already pounding down a strawberry milkshake at the diner, she wasn’t sure if she should hug him or just shake his hand, but mercifully he stood up and hugged her first. She sat down opposite him in the cherry-red booth and picked up a menu. There was some awkward small talk about the team’s recent winning streak followed by a polite inquiry about Vanessa and how she had been doing, but once a generous amount of comfort food had been ordered off the plastic menu, Maya got right down to business.

  “How have you been holding up?”

  Vinnie chugged the rest of his shake and set the large glass down on the table and shrugged. “Rotten.”

  “I’m sure it’s been tough.”

  “I miss her. That woman I’m reading about in the Portland Press Herald every day is not the woman I’ve been dating for the past three years.”

  “I know . . . I’ve been struggling with the same thing. We worked so closely together. I keep asking myself, ‘How could I not know what she was doing?’”

  “When she was at home, she was so playful and sweet and so excited to be a mother and . . . then to find out she was capable of murder . . .” Vinnie sighed. “I’ll never understand it.”

  “Have you gone to see her?”

  Vinnie nodded. He was a tough, resilient man, not one to outwardly display any kind of emotion, but all of this was just too much for him, and he couldn’t stop himself from crying. He quickly tried to wipe away the tears streaming down his cheeks with his hammy fist. “I had to. We have a lot to talk about, a lot of decisions to make.”

  Maya was afraid to ask, but she had to know. It had been first and foremost in her mind as all of this unfolded. “What’s going to happen with the baby?”

  “I’m taking her. I’m going to raise her,” he said, a smile slowly creeping open as he thought about his soon-to-be newborn. It was probably the first time he had smiled in a while.

  “Her? I thought she was having a boy.”

  “Doctor misread the ultrasound. What she thought indicated a boy was just a shadow,” he chuckled. “You know what? I kinda wanted a girl all along.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “My parents live in Brunswick. They’ll take her when I’m at work. They’re obviously upset about Frances
, but they’re excited to be grandparents and a big part of the baby’s life. She’ll be raised right and be well loved.”

  “I have no doubt,” Maya said, reaching over and squeezing his hand.

  She went to pull her hand away, but Vinnie grabbed it and desperately held it. He wasn’t ready to let go. He needed a friend. They sat there, clutching each other, in silence, until the waitress appeared with their burgers and fries. Maya took a bite of her bacon cheeseburger, swallowed, and then looked at Vinnie. “I’d like to go see Frances.”

  Vinnie held his double burger in front of his mouth. He was chewing, his mouth closed, as ketchup dripped down over his chubby fingers. He stared past her and didn’t answer her question at first, but then dropped his burger on the plate, wiped his hands with his napkin, and said softly, “She’s not ready, Maya.”

  Maya nodded. “Okay . . .”

  “I told her it might be a good idea to talk to you, maybe you can help her in some way, maybe be a character witness at her trial and testify about the Frances who was your friend and coworker, not this monster who was so corrupt and . . .” Vinnie stopped himself and pressed the palms of his hands down on the table and fixed his eyes on Maya. “She’s too guilt-ridden right now about all she’s done. She told me she just can’t face you. . . . Maybe with a little time . . .”

  “Well, I’ll be here when she’s ready.”

  Now it was Maya’s turn to get emotional.

  Like Vinnie, she too was having trouble reconciling the Frances who was about to go on trial for corruption and murder and the Frances who was her closest girlfriend, the girlfriend who worried about her emotional well-being after her husband went to prison, the godmother to Vanessa, the Dolly Levi always on the lookout for a man to fix Maya up with when she became single again. That Frances, her BFF, was the one who she was desperately going to miss seeing every day, and her heart was broken over it.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Sandra knew the boys would take the news of the separation hard, but at the same time, they were resilient and strong and would adjust to the change. By now, the news of their father’s scandal had cycled through two whole news days and was now receding into the dustbin of history along with all the misdeeds of countless other politicians. It had been rough at school weathering the taunts of students, but remarkably the press focused solely on hounding Senator Wallage and not his two vulnerable teenage sons. For that, Sandra was grateful. Jack put on a brave face when Stephen called, chitchatting with his father amiably, ignoring the proverbial elephant in the room. Ryan, on the other hand, was a bit harder on his dad, questioning his judgment and integrity, and to Stephen’s credit, his father stayed on the phone and took it like a man, promising his son he would try and do better.