Mayhem, Murder and the PTA

by Dave Cravens

  Man-child nodded to Valerie as she rushed up to Parker. He grinned. “That your mom?”

  Parker sighed and dropped her head. Shit. “Yes.”

  “Moved back in with her, did you?”

  Parker’s head dropped lower as Valerie lovingly wrapped her arms around her. Somehow it melted the anger within her, leaving only raw shame. “Yes.”

  “So, to be clear, you want one tall white mocha over ice with bitter cream, two pumps of look in the mirror and a side of deep regret, is that about right?”

  Parker took a moment to appreciate the epic counter-punch. “That would be perfect.”

  The man-child smiled confidently as he ran Parker’s card and set about to create the drink.

  Valerie’s jaw dropped. “What was that all about?”

  “He gets me,” said Parker. She tugged Ally’s hand and headed with Valerie over to a small circular table. “How was brunch with the girls?”

  Ally climbed into Valerie’s lap, happy to see her Grandma. “Oh, I canceled that. Did you call the Sheriff? What did he say?”

  Parker shrugged. “That my car is probably in Tijuana by now.”

  “I don’t understand. Didn’t you lock it last night?”

  Parker glared at her mother. “Yes, Mother, I always lock it!” Parker blurted the statement out as fact, but quickly checked the back of her mind to be sure. “I know I locked it.”

  “I’m just saying, your juggling a lot of balls,” said Valerie. She smiled at Man-child who served Parker’s iced white mocha in a tall open glass with a straw. Intrigued by the drink, Ally clapped her hands.

  “No, Ally, that’s for Mommy,” explained Parker.

  Ally pouted, the first time all morning, followed by a persistent whining.

  “Here, play with my phone,” Parker cued it to Candy Crush and handed it over.

  Valerie winced. “Wow.”

  “Are you kidding? She’s a Candy Crush savant!” Parker took a sip of her mocha milkshake. “Beats my score all the time. I just—can’t handle the whining right now. I need a moment to think.”

  “Cars get stolen. The Sheriff even warned us that car theft was on the rise.”

  Parker took another sip. “There ever been a car stolen in your neighborhood since you’ve lived here?”

  Valerie looked off to the side, dipping into her memory. “Packages, yes. Mail, sometimes. No cars that I can remember.”

  “Don’t you think it’s weird that my car was the first? The very night after my PTA presentation was sabotaged and I had a major blowout with Karen Heller?”

  Valerie chuckled. “Why do you think everything is always about you, Parker?”

  Parker frowned. That’s just what Joe said. “I don’t think that.”

  “Don’t invent a conspiracy,” suggested Valerie. She turned to Ally, who smiled back – then promptly dumped Parker’s phone into the tall white mocha.

  36.

  After a short drive home…

  Parker tossed her mocha soaked phone into a can of dry uncooked rice. “I feel like I should have seen that coming,” she grumbled. The rice was Parker’s go-to Hail Mary for drowned phones. With a little luck, after a day or so the rice will have absorbed all the moisture out of the phone allowing for it to recharge.

  Ally stood on a chair next to the counter, watching her mother bury it with rice. “Awwww, phone hurt?” she asked.

  “Phone hurt.” Parker sighed as she caught herself staring blankly at the rice can. There was a sudden stillness in the air that seemed to stem the flow of time. Parker noticed she held her next breath, as if some part of her worried what exhaling might bring.

  “Are you okay?” asked Valerie.

  Parker blinked. “Kurt taught me the rice can trick.” Her lungs became heavy. “I’m ashamed to admit I had to think for a moment to remember that.”

  Valerie offered a warm smile as she put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

  Parker looked to the ceiling, holding back her tears. “He made this parenting thing look so easy, you know? He was a natural.”

  Valerie chuckled. “Are you kidding? He called me in a panic all the time.”

  “What?”

  “Kurt was a very nice man, and a great father, but after Maddy was born, he felt like he was drowning in diapers and baby vomit. I’d have to talk him off a ledge about once a week.”

  Parker’ stomach turned. “Kurt never told me about that.”

  “I’d always assumed you knew.” Valerie shook her head, sensing this news was not the comfort she’d meant it be. “Maybe he didn’t want you to worry.”

  “But I’m his wife.”

  “You were also a star reporter on the rise. Maybe he thought you had enough on your plate.”

  You’re missing the point. Parker clenched her lips, struggling to make sense of this news. “Why call you? Why wouldn’t he call his own mom if he wasn’t going to call me?”

  Valerie tossed her head back into mock laughter. “Oh, please – her? You know how that conversation would go.”

  Valerie’s dislike for Kurt’s mother was no secret. She was a hard woman for even Kurt to love, and competitive as Valerie was, she relished the fact that her son-in-law sought her advice over that of his own mother. Still, this revelation, for reasons she didn’t fully understand yet, seemed to shake Parker to her core. All this time I had no idea. What else did Kurt never tell me?

  “I didn’t mean to upset you, Parker,” assured Valerie. “I just thought you’d like to know it wasn’t easy for Kurt either. Every parent struggles.”

  “I’m not—upset,” Parker lied. At least, I can’t think of a good reason to be upset. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. It’s been a long week and—” The doorbell rang granting Parker a welcome pardon from the conversation. “I need to get that.”

  Parker caught a glimpse of Sheriff Bill’s car parked at the curb through her front window and rushed to the door.

  “Hello, Bill,” she greeted, opening the door.

  “You are here,” said Bill with a smile. “I tried to call before coming over.”

  “My phone died.”

  Bill whistled. “Ouch! Your car and your phone in the same day?”

  “Yup. Sucks.”

  “Good afternoon, Sheriff.” Valerie greeted, walking into the entry way. “I presume you’re here about my daughter’s stolen car?”

  “I’m just following up.”

  Valerie smiled. “You two carry on,” She jingled her car keys. “I’ll run and pick up the kids from school.” Valerie gave Parker a quick squeeze on her way out the door.

  “Thanks, Mom.” said Parker.

  “Is this a bad time?” asked Bill, sensing the frailty of the moment.

  Parker waved her hands. “No, no, it’s fine. Ally? Why don’t you come out front with me and the Sheriff, okay?”

  Ally ran to her mother from the kitchen and followed her out the front door to the driveway with Bill.

  Bill frowned as he watched Valerie race down the street in her Jaguar. “Your mom has a hell of a lead foot,” he observed.

  “Always has.” Parker wasn’t interested in small talk. “What did you find out?”

  “We canvased the neighborhood. Nobody heard or saw anything,” answered Bill, scanning the area once again. “And you said you didn’t hear a car alarm go off. So, this clearly wasn’t any smash and grab or some kid finding a joyride. This was a pro.”

  Parker presumed as much. She was hoping for more. “Why my car?”

  Bill lifted his shoulders. “Why not? I told you there was an uptick in car thefts. You park outside. It’s easy bait.”

  Parker wagged her finger. “No, no, no.” What bothered her so much in the morning, the thought she couldn’t articulate with her kids making her crazy, finally surfaced. “Look around. This is SoCal. Hardly anyone parks in their garage because they’re so full of shit.”

  “Shit!” Ally repeated jumping up and down.

  Fuck. “I’m mean, stu
ff, Ally,” she corrected her toddler. “Stuff.”

  “Shit!”

  Parker huffed. “My point is, why not choose that BMW parked over there?” Parker pointed to the silver Beamer parked in the driveway across the street. “Or that Camry up the road? Why did a pro go after my Highlander?”

  Bill shrugged again. “I don’t know. Maybe the perp liked the color of your car, or was drawn to the roses in your mom’s flower bed, or maybe he was sideswiped by a Highlander one time and wanted revenge or—”

  “Maybe she was a member of the Oak Creek PTA,” Parker blurted.

  “That’s not funny.”

  “It’s a little funny.” Parker noticed Bill’s face was dead serious. “Oh come, on, you don’t think it’s a little odd that the morning after Heller reveals me as her parking gremlin that my car is stolen?”

  “Parker,” Bill bit his lip. “Have you spoken to Heller since last night? Communicated with her in any way?”

  “No,” Parker snapped her fingers. “That’s a lie, actually, she did try calling me last night.”

  “What time?”

  “I’d have to check my phone to be sure, but I can’t as it’s taking a rice bath. I’d say around 11pm or so. She didn’t leave a message, and when I called her back, she didn’t pick up.” Parker watched as Bill jotted the note down in his note pad. “Why?”

  “We got a call from Mr. Heller late this morning,” said Bill.

  “So?”

  “Karen Heller never made it home last night.”

  37.

  A chill crawled up Parker’s spine.

  “Last night?” she asked. “What about this morning?”

  “She hasn’t come home at all.” Bill clarified.

  Parker’s jaw dropped open. This can’t be coincidence. Can it? Parker’s portrait of shock was quickly replaced with a puzzled expression. “I’m confused.”

  “Karen Heller is missing.” Bill spoke very slowly as if talking to a child.

  “Yeah, I got that,” Parker scorned. “You said Mr. Heller called this morning, but his wife never made it home last night. If that’s true, why would he wait so long to contact you?”

  “Mr. Heller is a very ill man who needs his rest. It’s not unusual for him to be in bed before his wife returns home on a night she’s working late. When he woke up this morning and saw that her car was gone, he assumed she’d already left for school. It wasn’t until the school called asking if Heller was coming in to work, that he knew something was wrong. No one has been able to reach her since.”

  That might explain why Silver Fox was acting so uppity. Parker rubbed her chin. “But, really, the husband doesn’t know for certain if his wife came home at all.”

  Bill squinted. “Yes, he does. She wasn’t there this morning.”

  Come on, Bill, work with me. The devil is in always in the details. “Yes, but if he’s a heavy sleeper, she could have returned home and left in the morning and he never would have known. Which is why he didn’t call. We can’t be sure as to exactly when Heller disappeared.”

  “She’s missing,” Bill repeated. His voice carried a hint of frustration. “Regardless as to when she came home or not, no one knows where she is right now.”

  “Right.” Parker put her hands behind her back and rocked back and forth on her toes. She didn’t want to scare Bill off from giving her any more information. The second a cop’s ego thinks you’re trying to edge in on his or her investigation, they shut you out. “Do you have any leads?”

  “Only the one you just gave me. You’re the only person after the PTA meeting to have received a call from Karen Heller.” Bill screwed up his face. “Wait, why would she call you?”

  To apologize for acting like a world class bitch? “Your guess is as good as mine. I presume she got my number off the PTA list of parents, so we know it wasn’t some random butt-dial. But then why would she not answer when I called her back?”

  “Maybe she couldn’t answer,” Bill postulated. “Maybe she was in trouble. Maybe she needed your help.”

  “Really? She needed my help?” Parker challenged. “If she was in trouble, I’d be the last person she’d call.”

  “You’re right. She hates you.”

  “Well—hate, is a pretty strong word.” For some reason Parker found it uncomfortable accepting the fact that Heller might hate her as much as she hated Heller. “I mean, I’m pretty awesome. Who hates awesome?”

  Bill looked at Parker out of the corner of his eye. “Alright, so why did she call you?”

  “I don’t know.” Parker searched her memory for any clue. A theory was forming inside her brain that sounded preposterous—maybe it wasn’t Heller who called? Maybe it was someone with Heller’s phone? It sounded incredibly paranoid. It’s not always about you, Parker, she reminded herself. Then it hit her. “After the PTA meeting, I happened to notice Heller didn’t go home.”

  Bill scratched his head. “Um, yeah, I think we established that as the problem.”

  “No, I mean she deliberately drove away from the direction of her house up the street. There was no hesitation. This wasn’t some random thing, she drove like she knew precisely where she was going next.” God, do I miss investigative reporting!

  “Interesting.” Bill jotted down the note in his pad. “You got anything else?”

  Parker frowned. Her high on discovery had already faded. “No.” Her eyes lit up. “But I can ask around!”

  Bill smiled. “That’s alright, Parker. I’ve already got a full team working on this.” Bill finished writing and clamped shut his pad. “Thanks for your time.”

  Parker’s heart raced. “Wait. That’s it?” You drop all this juicy gossip about the woman I hate and just leave me?

  Bill stared at Parker blankly. He sniffed. “Well, if you remember anything else that you think would be useful, please call me.” Bill started for his car.

  Why did he sniff? “I can help, you know. I’m a hell of an investigative reporter.”

  Bill smiled and opened his car door. “I know. And if I need any help, I’ll call you. And be assured we’re still working on your stolen car, okay? We haven’t forgotten about that.” Bill shut the door and started his car.

  Fuck, Bill, don’t just drive away! Parker found herself pouting. Then, her heart skipped a beat as she saw Bill roll down his window. He smiled smugly.

  “Yes?” asked Parker.

  “By the way,” Bill pointed to Ally. “I think your daughter needs a change.”

  Shit, is he teasing me? Parker sniffed at the sudden odor wafting in from beneath her. She looked down to see Ally pulling at her pant leg.

  “Poopy,” said Ally.

  “Have a nice day!” Bill rolled up his window and drove away, overly pleased with himself.

  “Ha, ha,” said Parker dryly. She brazenly flipped Bill’s car the bird.

  “Ha ha,” Ally repeated. She lifted her pointer finger to emulate her mother’s obscene gesture.

  Parker’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Shit!” She quickly but gently reached for her daughter’s hand to put down her finger.

  “Shit!” Ally repeated.

  Parker shuffled her stinky daughter off the driveway. “Let’s get you changed. And no telling Grandma about this, alright?”

  38.

  Parker stared anxiously at the glowing blue lights of the digital oven clock in her mother’s kitchen.

  “It’s 3:32,” she announced. Her head swiveled to Ally, who doodled with crayons at the kitchen table, completely lost in her work. “Mom and the kids should have been back by now. What the hell are they doing?”

  Ally continued to scribble away.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” agreed Parker. “Probably ice cream or something. Take the edge off a long day.” She turned to the counter and looked at her phone in the rice can. It had only been a few hours since the mocha dunk, but Parker felt naked without her phone. “I suppose, there’s no point in trying to charge that yet. I’ll have to use a landline l
ike some Neanderthal.”

  Ally looked up and giggled at the word.

  Parker nodded. “You said it. This whole thing is a mess. No car. No phone. Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to get out there and sniff around for clues about Heller.”

  Ally flashed her mother a concerned look, mirroring precisely what she saw.

  “I know, I know, Bill said his team had it covered. But come on, those hacks probably couldn’t find their way out of a paper bag. And let’s be honest. Bill’s not exactly Sherlock. He needs my help.” Parker turned back to the clock. “Damnit, it’s still 3:32?”

  Ally slapped her hands to her cheeks. “Oh no!”

  “Then it’s settled,” Parker decided. “We can’t wait any longer. You and I need to rent some wheels. And if it so happens we fly by the school and Heller’s home then all the better.”

  Ally clapped.

  “I knew you’d be game. You’re the adventurous one.”

  Ally cheered as Parker grabbed the bulky cordless phone off its cradle on the kitchen wall and listened for a dial tone before punching the number on an 80’s ride share. After describing her mother’s address to the dispatcher, she rifled through a cluttered drawer to find something to write on. Buried deep in the back behind the AA batteries, masking tape, thumbtacks, yarn, crayons and paper clips was an unopened box of index cards. Parker tore the box open, quickly penned a note in crayon and taped it to the fridge:

  “Ally and I are off to find a rental car. We’ll bring home dinner!”

  Parker cupped the remaining cards in her right hand, testing their weight. They reminded her of the post-it notes she’d sometimes use to sort through ideas when waded through a tough investigation. “Huh. We’ve got about fifteen minutes before the ride share arrives. I’m sure Grandma wouldn’t mind if we used a few more of these.” She turned back to Ally. The three-year-old eagerly stretched for the cards. “You want to draw on some? Can you draw me an evil witch? With lots of warts?”

  Ally scribbled a dark angry mess of black, green and purple onto an index card and handed it back to her mother.