Stiff Penalty (A Mattie Winston Mystery)

by Annelise Ryan

  I followed her to a back area of the store, where there was a rack of bathrobes that ranged from petite to Orson Welles size and shelves covered with a variety of two-piece pajama sets and nightgowns. She grabbed several items and handed them to me.

  “Go try these on,” she said. “I’ll dig up some more stuff in the meantime.”

  I went into the dressing room, and as I stripped off what I was wearing, my cell phone rang. Again I had a moment of trepidation, and again it was only Richmond.

  “Hey, Richmond, what’s up?”

  “I called that witch Principal Knowles and asked her about the PTA. She gave me the name of the president, the vice president, and a few other members. I called the president, a woman named Marsha Hatton, and she has access to the books. She said she can get a copy of the financials for me today.”

  “That’s great,” I said, standing in my undies and eyeing my expanding frame in the mirror. “I’m willing to bet there’s money missing somewhere.”

  “I hope so. Your theory does make sense. But I haven’t given up on Jacob yet.”

  “Jacob didn’t do it. I’m sure of it. The PTA connection makes the most sense. Derrick was a math teacher, so he’d be familiar with accounting. And he was involved with the PTA. If he discovered there was money missing and said something to her about it, there’s your motive. She said money was really tight, and that it was a struggle to raise the kids on what she makes, and as the treasurer, she had access to all those funds.”

  “Okay, okay, you’ve convinced me.”

  “Get with this Hatton woman and get the proof we need.”

  “I hope it’s all those crazy hormones of yours that are making you so bossy.”

  “You wish.”

  I disconnected the call, tried on a pair of pajamas, and stepped out of the dressing room. Priscilla was standing just outside the door with a disapproving look on her face.

  “What? Do they make me look too fat?”

  “Those are all wrong,” she said. “Try these.” She thrust a pile of new stuff into my arms and then pushed past me into the dressing room. She gathered up the other pajamas that were in there and carried them out.

  I went back into the dressing room, set down the new pile of clothes, shut the door, and gave myself another appraising look in the mirror. I didn’t think the ones I had on looked that bad. Maybe Priscilla wanted to steer me toward more expensive stuff. I glanced at the price tag on the ones I had on and compared it to the others she had given me. The set on top of the pile was actually cheaper. So I took off the first set and put on the cheaper one. When I went to open the dressing room door to see what Priscilla’s opinion was on this set, the knob turned but the door wouldn’t open. I tried again, pushing harder, but the door wouldn’t budge.

  “Priscilla?” I hollered. “There’s something wrong with the door. I can’t get it to open.”

  “That’s because there’s a chair in front of it,” she said. Her voice came through the door crystal clear. I could tell she was standing just the other side of it. “I heard what you said in there on the phone. How did you figure it out?”

  I frowned, not knowing what she was talking about at first. Then it started to come to me. I flashed back on my previous conversation with Priscilla, and how she’d also said that money was tight and she and her husband were struggling to raise all their kids. She’d also said she was involved with the PTA.

  I thought fast and said, “Derrick didn’t die in his house. He was still alive after he was stabbed. He managed to stagger out into the street, and some neighbors helped him. He wasn’t able to say much, but he said enough to let us know that it had something to do with the PTA.”

  I waited for a response, but I didn’t get one.

  “Priscilla? Are you still there?”

  “I’m sorry, Mattie. I wish you hadn’t figured it out, but now that you have, I need to do whatever I can to get away.”

  “How did Derrick figure it out?” I asked her.

  “That damned Terwilliger woman,” she said. “She couldn’t get the books to come out right, so she asked Derrick to help her with it.”

  “But how did you get access to the money?”

  “It’s easy enough when you’re the treasurer. I have a business degree, you know, and I’ve learned how to cook the books over the years with this damned store.”

  “I thought Mandy was the treasurer.”

  “She is now, but she just took the job over a few months ago. I was the treasurer for four years before that.”

  I tried the door again, but it wouldn’t budge. Then I heard an odd sound, some kind of splashing noise. “Priscilla? Please open the door. I’ll talk to the DA and explain that you didn’t mean to hurt anyone. Maybe you can work out some kind of deal. Pay restitution or something like that.”

  I heard Priscilla scoff. “Pay restitution? And just where the hell would the money come from? Do you have any idea what a sinkhole for money kids are? It’s never-ending.”

  I could still hear the splashing sound and then a strange smell came to me. When I realized what it was, panic set in.

  “Priscilla, I smell gasoline. What are you doing?”

  “Creating a diversion. I need time to get away from here.”

  “You’re going to set the store on fire, aren’t you?”

  No answer.

  “Priscilla? Please, let me out of here. I’ll give you time to get away, I promise. But please don’t leave me in here and burn the place down. I’m pregnant, remember? You don’t want to do that.”

  “I don’t have a choice, Mattie. I’m truly sorry. This is the way it has to be.”

  I remembered my phone then and whirled around to grab it. My purse, and the phone that was in it, was gone. Then I realized that Priscilla must have grabbed it when she did the switch with the clothes.

  My panic rose, and I threw myself against the door. It didn’t budge. My baby seemed to sense my panic because suddenly I felt a flurry of movement in my belly.

  “Damn it, Priscilla, don’t do this,” I pleaded.

  I listened, waiting for a response, trying to figure out what she was doing next. She didn’t answer me, and then I heard the sound of the back door closing. Seconds later I smelled smoke.

  Frantic, I kicked at the door to the dressing room and yelled at the top of my lungs. Junior was parked out front in the street. Maybe he would hear me. I yelled louder and kicked harder. The smoke smell grew stronger. I screamed and screamed as loud as I could. And then I thought I heard a pounding noise.

  After that, everything went black.

  Chapter 39

  “Obviously you got out,” Maggie says to me.

  “I did. All my screaming and panic made me hyperventilate. Add being pregnant on top of that and you have a good solid faint. As it turned out, Junior had to pee, so he got out of his car right around the time Priscilla was blocking the dressing room door with the chair. He walked up to the front door, found it locked, and peered inside. Priscilla was too preoccupied with the chair to see him, but he knew right away she was up to no good, so he got on his radio and called for help, and then went around to the alley by the back door. The minute Priscilla came out, Junior grabbed her, but she tried to run, and in the scuffle the back door closed. The only way to open it is with a key, and fortunately Priscilla had it with her since it was on the same ring as her car and house keys. By the time Junior got the keys, other cops had arrived, and someone was trying to beat the door down. That was the pounding noise I heard, I think. Anyway, by the time I knew what was happening, I was outside in the fresh air, lying on the ground in a pair of brand spanking new pajamas. And I kept them. I figured that was the least Priscilla owed me. The fire was blazing pretty good at that point, but it was mostly toward the front of the store. They were able to get it under control before it destroyed the whole place.”

  “It’s a good thing Junior was there.”

  “Yes, it was. And I’ve decided to quit hating my bladder bec
ause of that day. The need to pee may have saved my life—even if it wasn’t me who needed to do the peeing—so I’ve come to terms with my bladder’s need to empty itself every hour and decided to forgive it.”

  “I’m sure your bladder is grateful,” Maggie says with a smile. “I take it Jacob was exonerated as a result of all this?”

  “He was, and both he and his mother were very grateful. They insisted on thanking me publicly and tried to do an ad in the local paper, but Alison Miller convinced them to participate in a large article about the whole case instead. I think she did that so she could slip the fact of my pregnancy in there somewhere, but it was something that was becoming more obvious with each passing day anyway. To be honest, I was more bothered by the fact that the article made me out to be some kind of hero when in actuality I was wrong about the whole thing.”

  “Not the whole thing,” Maggie insists.

  “Okay, I stand corrected. I was wrong about who the killer was, and it nearly cost me my life. I later learned that Mandy Ter williger really is struggling financially. That car she was driving, the sporty little convertible? It belongs to an uncle of hers who is helping her out. He loaned her the car while hers was being repaired.” I shake my head. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m cut out for this job, and lately I keep wondering if having this child might be a mistake.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Well, the questionable genetics for one. My family history is a hot mess of mental health issues and personality disorders, and given that I keep getting myself into dangerous situations when it comes to work, I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a mother.”

  “Did you have genetic testing done?”

  I nod. “The baby appears to be healthy, with no major flaws, at least physically. There are no prenatal tests for stupidity, insanity, and personality disorders.”

  Maggie leans forward, rests her arms on her knees, and looks me in the eye. “Mattie, I have some concerns about you, but they are minor and have nothing to do with your ability to be a good mother. In fact, I think you’re going to do great. It will be challenging, no doubt, but one of the things in your life that has remained consistent is that you always rise to the challenges. Being a single mother isn’t going to make it any easier for you, but you have a reasonably good support system in place, so I think you’ll be fine.”

  “Thanks for that. Now tell me what your concerns are.”

  “Well, I think you’re afraid to commit yourself to a relationship with Hurley because so many of your previous relationships with men have gone badly. You’re not willing to open up and let yourself be vulnerable.”

  “That may or may not be true, but it’s so much more than my willingness to commit or be vulnerable at this point. There’s this whole mess with my father, and Emily is proving to be a huge obstacle. She’s not only become very disturbed, she’s also wily and determined to make it as difficult as possible for Hurley and me to be together. It’s ironic, in a way, because now that we can be together publicly without having to worry about our jobs, we’re still forced to sneak around so that we don’t upset Emily.”

  “I’m not surprised Emily is acting out,” Maggie says. “I’m sure she’s having a hard time with all the changes in her life. She lost her mother, the only real family she’d had all her life, and now she finds herself thrust into this new life with a father she barely knows, a potential stepmother she’s bound to resent because you’re competing with her for her father’s love and attention, and a new baby on the way, who she probably fears Hurley will love more than he loves her.”

  I stared at Maggie with newfound respect. “Well, you nailed that one,” I told her.

  “She resents you,” Maggie says.

  “Boy, does she,” I say, my eyes wide with the memory of that birthday night. “I hoped with time she would become more accepting, but if anything she seems to be less so. I’ve tried reasoning with her several times, trying to get her to see that I’m not the enemy, but she wants nothing to do with me or my child, who she insists on calling the brat.”

  “Trying to reason with her was your first mistake,” Maggie says, interrupting me. “Teenagers are often short on reason and high on emotion. And those are the ones who haven’t gone through the kind of emotional traumas Emily has. And despite being a teenager, Emily is still a child, with all the hurt, bewilderment, and sensitivity that go with that.”

  I frowned. “I know she’s been through a lot, but I’m seriously concerned about her. This has been going on for several months now with no sign of improvement. I’ve even tried talking her into counseling, either with or without me and Hurley, but she refuses to go, and Hurley isn’t convinced that it’s necessary or that it will be helpful.”

  “Do you think Hurley will make a good father?”

  “I guess, but Emily’s behavior has only gotten worse, and that’s made him a little crazy.”

  “Is she doing something more than trying to ostracize you?”

  “Heck, yes. She’s been sassing back at Hurley a lot, and rebelling against any rules he tries to implement. For instance, he gave her a nine P.M. curfew on school nights, and ten on the weekends, but Emily ignores him and frequently stays out hours later than she should. Several times Hurley has had to go looking for her. To make matters worse, she has a new boyfriend, one with a driver’s license. Hurley has tried to talk to her about sex, and birth control, and all that sort of stuff, but she always cuts him off and says she doesn’t want to discuss it. Half the time she acts like she doesn’t want anything to do with Hurley, but if she thinks he’s off doing something with me, she’ll have a crisis of some sort and call him to come help her. That’s why Hurley had to back out of attending the birthing classes. Emily found out about it, and every time we had a class, she would create some sort of drama so that Hurley had to leave. One time she called him and said that if he didn’t come home she was going to kill herself. Another time she called 911 and said someone was trying to break into the house, but when Hurley and the cops got there, there was no evidence of that at all. By the third or fourth incident, we started to catch on to her timing, and that’s when Hurley regretfully backed out of the classes.”

  “If Emily is threatening suicide, then it’s imperative that she get some counseling,” Maggie says, looking concerned.

  “I know,” I say with a sigh. “But Hurley is even more anti-shrink than I am. Nothing personal,” I add with a sheepish grin.

  “I’m not offended,” Maggie assures me. “Does he have a reason for this bias?”

  I nod. “He’s convinced that the shrink his boss made him see when he was working in Chicago and harassing Dilles for killing his wife is the reason he lost his job there.”

  Maggie gives a grudging shrug. “Understandable then, I suppose. But for the sake of Emily, you need to keep on Hurley about it.”

  “I intend to. If I can’t convince him, maybe I’ll kidnap Emily and bring her to you myself.”

  “To me?” Maggie says with a smile. “I’m flattered.”

  Now I’m the one who shrugs grudgingly. “I confess I may have been wrong about the benefits of professional counseling.”

  To Maggie’s credit, she doesn’t gloat. “Is Hurley planning on being there for the birth?” she asks.

  “He wants to, but I have a backup plan in case Emily screws that up, too. I’ve arranged for my sister to be my birth coach, and she finished out the classes with me. Dom offered to do it, but then Izzy got hold of a film that shows childbirth, and Dom passed out trying to watch it. So for now it’s me and Desi. And given the way Emily has been lately, I wouldn’t be surprised if Hurley doesn’t show up at all for the birth.”

  “I wish I had some great words of wisdom to offer you with regard to Emily, but the teenage years are notorious for being challenging under the best of circumstances. Think of it as training and practice for when your own child reaches that age.”

  “Great,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “With any luck I c
an film it all with that stupid birthday present Hurley got me.”

  Maggie frowns. “What’s wrong with the video camera? It helped you solve your case, and it seems like a great gift for an expectant mother, something to mark your child’s milestones.”

  “Sure, except now Hurley wants to film the birth, both for the memories and in case he can’t be there.” I wait for Maggie to comment, and when she doesn’t I give her a questioning look and say, “Hello-o?”

  Maggie shrugs and shakes her head, looking clueless.

  “He wants to film the birth, Maggie. I’ve seen women in childbirth, and it isn’t pretty. At some point, they all turn into Linda Blair in The Exorcist. Camera-ready they are not. They are all sweaty and messy-haired and red-faced. And Hurley wants the actual birth on video, you know, the head coming out and all that. He plans to have either Desi or himself aim that camera at my hoo-ha when I’m leaky, and sweaty, and all stretched out like the universe during the Big Bang.”

  “So?”

  “So?” I echo with disbelief. “Nobody wants to see that. Hell, it’s mine, and I don’t want to see it.”

  “As Hurley once reminded you, he has seen it before,” Maggie says with sly humor.

  “Not like that, he hasn’t. Men are sometimes damaged after seeing that. Sex lives have shriveled up and died after seeing that.”

  “I think you’re blowing this out of proportion. Don’t you think it’s sweet that Hurley wants a record of what will probably be one of the biggest moments in his life?”

  “Yes, it’s sweet, but we can film it all from the head of the bed. No one has to be down there . . . all in it.”

  Maggie bites back a laugh.

  “It may sound funny, but the reality of the situation isn’t. I have to admit, it will break my heart if Hurley isn’t there when this baby comes. After seeing his reaction to the ultrasound, I know he wants to be there. There’s a part of me that wants to get angry and demanding and insist that he put me first, at least with this issue. But I don’t want to complicate his life any more than it already is. So for now I’m going to back off and give him the space he needs to sort things out with Emily, even though I’m afraid she’s going to be a major obstacle for me and him, and for him and this baby.”