Mayhem, Murder and the PTA

by Dave Cravens

  “As long as you’re sure.” Bill blew out his lips. “Maybe I should go to this thing. I could do it at the end of my shift. I’ve a feeling you’re going to need back up. You’re smart, Parker. But this guy or girl or whatever this killer is – they’ve been a step ahead of you the whole time.”

  “You don’t need to rub that in.” Parker grimaced. “But tomorrow night? That’s when I catch up.”

  80.

  A converted warehouse on the outskirts of town, the bar known as The Dive appears precisely as its name would imply.

  The Dive boasts only two features, neither of which have anything to do with the quality or taste of its drinks. The first, is a giant neon sign depicting a shapely woman diving into a pool sized beer stein. The second, is the bar’s sizeable pit that serves as a dance floor, making it a favorite destination amongst Oak Creek women seeking to escape the pressures of their jobs, husbands and families. A modest stage rises above the front of the pit, keeping whatever band is playing safely out of the reach of screaming mothers. Thursday night, that band was Slippery When Wet, and Parker Monroe couldn’t have been more excited.

  “Holy hell, these guys are really good!” shouted Parker as she navigated the crowd to bring two pitchers of beer to Glory, Julie, and Holly who sat at her circular wooden table left of the stage.

  “What?” yelled Holly, who had stuck cotton balls in her ears to protect them from the booming bass of Living on a Prayer. Her eye practically twitched with the beat.

  Parker sat down next to Holly and leaned toward her. “I said, we should book these guys for Boo Fest!”

  After a rousing chorus, Slippery When Wet triumphantly finished their song, prompting the lead singer to pump his fist to the heavens and give a hearty “Thank you!” The bar erupted with cheers.

  Parker beamed at the sight. “My god, that guy looks just like Jon Bonjovi. Right down to that cocky dumb-ass adorable smirk.”

  Julie poured some beer into her mug. “You’re dreaming, girl, that’s not Jon Bonjovi.”

  “I know that, Julie, I just think he looks like Jon Bonjovi,” insisted Parker. “I mean, how crazy would it be, if the actual Bonjovi dressed up as a cover band and covered their own songs in disguise so they could intimately reconnect with their fans without the pressure that comes with their fans! Omigod, I just blew my own fucking mind!”

  Julie remained unimpressed. “That’s not Jon Bonjovi.”

  “Maybe,” a man’s voice interjected. The new player poured himself some beer from the other pitcher at the table. “It’s Jon Bonjovi’s half-brother, Juan Bonjovi, in disguise.”

  Parker tilted her head, horrified both at the thin, middle aged man in a blue turtle neck that she did not recognize, and the ridiculously offensive joke that he had just made. “Um, we do not mock Bonjovi here. Who are you?”

  Turtle neck smiled and enthusiastically put out his hand to shake Parker’s. “Oh, I’m Brad! Brad Jameson! I teach third grade!”

  “Are you with the PTA, Brad? Because this is a PTA event, and I don’t remember seeing you at the last PTA meeting.” And believe me, I’m keeping track. Especially tonight.

  Brad looked to Holly for an explanation. “I, uh, couldn’t make it that night. Am I not supposed to be here? I thought all of PTA was invited.”

  Holly gingerly patted Brad’s arm. “You’re fine, Brad. Parker is just—” she looked at Parker, searching for the word.

  “Curvy?” tried Glory.

  Parker was just intoxicated enough to appreciate Glory’s comment. “Bless you, Glory.”

  “Intense.” Decided Holly. She then smiled as if to soften the blow. “Though I don’t know what I’d do without her help on Boo Fest. She’s been amazing! I can hardly believe we’re only weeks away!” The thought seemed to trigger more eye twitching. Holly tried to maintain her toothy smile, but it was clear the stress was getting to her. “I’m going to go powder my nose.” The PTA President stood up and headed toward the ladies’ room near the back of the bar.

  Brad bobbed his head to the filler music as he tried smiling at Glory, Julie and Parker. “Yeah, groovy,” he said awkwardly. He continued to bob his head to the beat, flustered that no one else seemed to appreciate his rhythm. “Yup. I’m going over there.” He pointed without looking and stood up to leave.

  “Yup. Brad’s the killer,” announced Julie as she drew a long sip from her beer.

  “No, Brad just kills moods,” said Glory. He scanned the crowd around him. “You really think the killer is going to show up tonight?”

  “I do,” answered Parker. She’d been reading the crowd all night, making sure she’d greeted every PTA and school related person she recognized who paid the cover charge. Silver Fox and Baby Face even showed up, sitting together at a table in the far corner of the bar that was diametrically opposed to Parker’s. More noticeable were the absentees. No Mendez, and no GI Joe.

  “Well, nobody’s died yet.” noted Glory.

  “I don’t think that’s how this is supposed to go,” explained Julie. She guzzled the rest of her beer and wiped the foam off her upper lip. “How is this supposed to go?”

  “We observe. Look for anything out of place.” said Parker. Speaking of which -- Her eyes suddenly spotted the semi-familiar face of a man ordering a drink at the bar. “I’ll be back.”

  Parker approached the young man with brown hair and an athletic build from behind, so he wouldn’t see her. Clearly bored, the man fiddled with his cell phone as he waited for the bar tender to finish filling his mug from the tap. “Deputy Michaels,” greeted Parker. “I almost didn’t recognize you without your uniform.” Parker had only seen him a handful of times. He was the first on scene to break the news to Ken Heller that his wife had been murdered. Bill spoke fondly of him as a “dependable right-hand man.”

  Michaels smiled at Parker and reached up to tilt the brim of a deputy’s hat that was absent. He blushed when he couldn’t find it and settled for a nod. “Ma’am.”

  “Are you here off duty because you’re a closet Bonjovi roadie?”

  “Bonjovi—is that who’s playing?”

  “Oh boy. Then you’re here ‘undercover’.” Parker was sure to use air quotes.

  The bar tender slid a full beer mug into Michael’s firm grip. The deputy took a sip. “Technically, I’m off duty. But Bill asked me to keep an eye on things until he could show up. He thought the uniform might taint your ‘experiment.’” He took another sip. “Any luck?”

  “Not yet. You?”

  Michaels lifted his free hand to reveal several slips of papers held between his index and middle fingers. “I’ve had four different phone numbers stuffed into the back of my pants like dollars in a G-string.”

  “So, a slow night for you too.”

  Michaels chuckled. “Bill said you were funny.” Michaels took another sip of his beer. “Can I get you something?”

  Parker kept her flirtatious smile in place as she studied Michaels’ eyes. She couldn’t help but find the timing of his appearance tonight rather suspicious. Then again, a quick text to Bill would quickly solve it. “I’m good, thank you.” Parker pulled out her phone and texted Bill straight away:

  You send Michaels?

  Michaels nodded to Parker’s phone, clearly aware of what she was doing. “Tell Bill, I said hello.”

  Parker’s phone buzzed with Bill’s reply:

  Yup. He’s good.

  “If you need anything. If there’s any trouble. I’m right here, okay?” assured Michaels.

  The crowd erupted into cheering as Slippery When Wet once again returned to the stage. “Hello, Oak Creek!” yelled fake Jon Bonjovi. “We’ve got a few more to go if we wanna get paid, so let’s say we crank this to eleven!”

  Parker patted Michaels on the shoulder. “I’m going to check in on Fred and Daphne.” As the band started up again with a rousing rendition of It’s My Life, Parker pushed her way through the crowds to make it back to her table where Glory and Julie sandwiched a newcome
r at the table – Joe Ward the Gym Teacher.

  “He was an 80’s action hero!” Julie protested loudly at Joe. “You’ve seriously never heard of him?”

  Joe greeted Parker with wide eyes and a plastered smile, the universal signal for help. “Parker! Omigod! Please! Please join us!”

  Parker grinned mischievously. “Glad you could finally make it, Joe!”

  Joe blinked as if in pain. “Just trying to support the cause!”

  Parker’s eyes narrowed at the vacant seat next to Julie. “Where’s Holly?”

  “I thought she went to the bathroom,” dismissed Julie.

  “That was, like, fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Maybe she had the taquitos,” added Glory, who eagerly bit into another one of the appetizers.

  “I’m going to go look for her,” stated Parker. “You guys keep Joe entertained!”

  Parker pushed her way through the crowd until she hit a long hallway that led to the bathrooms. “Holly?” Parker asked as she pushed the bathroom door in. The women reapplying their lipstick at the sink stared blankly back at her. No feet with Holly’s shoes showed at the bottom of any stalls.

  Parker returned to the hallway and eyed the men’s bathroom door, half tempted to check inside. It wouldn’t be my first journey into one. Then, she felt the cool breeze coming from further down the hall. She followed it to an exit door, slightly ajar as if to keep it from locking shut. Normally, underage teenagers would resort to such a tactic to sneak inside the bar.

  Curious, Parker pushed open the door and stepped onto the cracked tar of the dark rear lot. It sported several large, metal garbage bins overflowing with plastic trash bags. An old beater of a Sprinter RV with the words Slippery When Wet painted on its side was parked off to the side. At the far edge of the lot was an SUV – a powder blue Honda Pilot parked just outside of a street lamp’s circle of light.

  No sign of Holly.

  Parker was about to return to the bar, when she noticed the subtle movement out of the corner of her eye.

  The Pilot was rocking from side to side, ever so slightly.

  81.

  Parker squinted at the rocking Honda Pilot.

  Oh hell.

  Under normal circumstances, she would simply let the matter be. But on a night like tonight, Parker had to know what was going on. She stormed across the lot up to the Pilot, noting the windows fogging over from the activity inside. She could hear a woman gasp in a high soprano voice.

  “Oh god, oh god, oh god—” the woman’s voice steadily climbed each note of an octave.

  Parker pulled on the latch of the rear’s passenger side door. The door was unlocked, and flew right open, revealing the heads of a middle-aged man on top of a woman, pumping away to her obvious delight. The woman looked above her as she climaxed, only to notice Parker’s glowering stare.

  “Oh god! Oh shit!” yelled the woman.

  “Hello Holly,” greeted Parker.

  Brad the turtle-necked third grade teacher looked up and smiled exhaustedly. “Oh, hello!” he said with a proud sigh. “I’m Brad!”

  “We’ve met.”

  Holly was not so proud and scrambled to push Brad off of her. “Oh, shit, oh shit, oh shit!” she mumbled.

  Brad pulled up his pants. “What’s the big deal?” he chuckled. “We’re both married!”

  “Not to each other!” Holly reminded.

  “Brad, I need to speak with Holly,” said Parker. “Alone.”

  “But – I” Brad stammered as he fumbled with his belt.

  “Beat it, Brad!” Parker barked. She jammed her thumb back over her shoulder to show him the way.

  “We’re still on for Saturday, right, Holly?” Brad hopped out of the SUV.

  “Just go!” Holly wined. Brad practically skipped off as Holly buried her head in her hands. “Oh shit. This isn’t what it looks like!”

  “It looks like you’re having an affair with Brad to relieve all your eye-twitching crazy stress in life.”

  Holly dropped her hands to look Parker in the eyes. “Okay, it is what it looks like.” There wasn’t even a hint of her tell-tale eye twitch, a fact the PTA president was eager to point to as if it might justify her actions. “See? No twitch.”

  “You could have sex with your own husband.”

  Holly frowned. “What do you think started the twitch?”

  Parker folded her arms. “I don’t care, Holly. You lied to me!”

  Holly’s jaw dropped open. “I did no such thing!”

  “Really?” Parker furrowed her brow, temporarily distracted by the fact that Holly’s breasts were still hanging out of her bra and opened blouse. “Can you--? Do something about that?”

  Holly blushed and pulled her blouse tight to begin to correct her wardrobe.

  Parker continued. “Tell me, Holly, how long have you and Brad been doing this?”

  “Since last Fall.”

  “Mm hmm. And when did Heller find out?”

  Holly rolled her eyes, realizing Parker had obviously already done the math in her head. “Last Fall.”

  “She threatened to expose you, didn’t she?”

  Holly’s eyes widened in horror. “I didn’t kill her, Parker!”

  “But I’m right, right? She threatened to expose you!” Parker jabbed her index finger at Holly’s heart.

  “Yes, but I didn’t kill her!” Tears began to form in Holly’s eyes. “Is that what you think? I would never--!”

  “No, that’s not what I think,” Parker clarified. “What I think is, Heller got you to sign off on extra money for the PTA budget in exchange for not telling anyone about your affair. Yes or no?”

  Holly looked to the floor of her SUV. “Yes.”

  “So, when you told me you had no knowledge of what item ADMIN-MISC was in the PTA budget -- you lied to me.”

  Holly began to cry as she held her forehead. “I’m sorry. Yes! I lied! I couldn’t exactly risk exposing me and Brad, now could I?”

  “Expose—that’s funny,” Parker chuckled. “Your panties are still wrapped around your ankles.”

  “Oh god!” Holly slammed her knees together.

  Parker pressed her advantage. “What did Heller need the money for?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Parker whipped out her phone and lifted it up as if to take a picture. “I feel a selfie coming on. Let’s take one together for the school yearbook. What do you say?”

  “I don’t know!” Holly interrupted. “All Heller told me was that it was for some kind of special investigation. She said it was important for the school, but that no one could know about it. Not the teachers, not even the principal. Heller assured me, she would pay the money back!”

  Special investigation? The term conjured memories of political wars between Congresses and Presidents. Obviously, that can’t be what Heller meant. “Anything else you forget to tell me?” asked Parker.

  Holly shook her head. “No,” she groaned. “Are you going to tell anyone?”

  “About Heller’s PTA secret fund? Eventually.”

  Holly’s face turned hot. “I mean about me and Brad.”

  “Riiiiiight,” Parker was sure to be over-dramatic in her delivery. “Here’s the thing. I don’t want other people to know, that I know about Heller knowing about you and Brad, and you knowing about Heller’s money.”

  “Okay—so?”

  “For now, let’s keep this between you and me.”

  “And Brad.”

  Parker rolled her eyes. Yes, that idiot, too. “And Brad.” Parker’s phone suddenly buzzed in her hand.

  It was a new text message from Evil Incarnate – aka: Karen Heller.

  Where, oh, where, could my dear Parker be?

  Holly couldn’t help but to notice the color drain from Parker’s face as another text buzzed in.

  Are you hiding from me?

  “Parker?” asked Holly. “Are you okay?”

  82.

  Parker surveyed her surroundings to make sure she an
d Holly were still alone.

  “I’m fine,” said Parker. But things are finally starting up. “I think we should head back inside. Together.”

  “Fine,” Holly rolled her eyes. “Can you turn around while I—pull up my undies?”

  Parker turned her back toward Holly just enough to keep her in the peripheral but grant some privacy. Parker’s thumbs worked madly on her phone while she shot glances around the backlot. Was the killer out there? Or was he or she actively searching for Parker?

  Regardless, I think it’s safe to cross Holly off the list, thought Parker. Her mind scrambled to make sense of the “special investigation.” It can’t be anything official. Bill would’ve mentioned it. Heller must’ve meant a “private” investigation.

  On a hunch, Parker punched a search into her phone with three key words:

  darling – private – investigation

  Parker smirked at the headline result at the top of the search page:

  Darling Detective Agency – Los Angeles, California

  Bingo.

  A related headline below it announced an even more chilling coincidence:

  Los Angeles Detective Gone Missing While Working Unknown Case…

  “I’m ready,” informed Holly. She smoothed out the rest of her dress. “You’re not texting anyone about this, are you?”

  “I told you, it’s between us,” Parker assured Holly. Her phone buzzed again from another text – again from Heller.

  There you are!

  Parker’s stomach turned. She looked up to notice the dark silhouette appear at the bar’s exit door. Concerned for Holly’s safety, she pushed the PTA back into her SUV and slammed the passenger door shut.

  “Hey!” Holly growled.

  Parker climbed into the front seat and locked the car. “You have your key fob?” she asked bluntly.

  “Yes, but what is going on?” Holly yelled.

  Without a word, Parker punched the ignition button on the Honda Pilot, and threw the SUV in reverse, thrusting Holly forward into her seat. Parker sped out of the lot backwards, never taking her eyes of the bar’s back door. She watched the shadow move back inside.