Murder at the PTA Luncheon

by Valerie Wolzien

  “I’m fine, Dan. Although I would appreciate it if you would give your opinion about whether I should have stitches. But let’s all get out of here first.”

  “Mother! What have you done?” Her daughter arrived on the scene wearing her best knit dress.

  “Chrissy, your mother has had an accident. I am going to drive your brother to a swim meet and Dr. Hallard and Detective Fortesque are going to take care of her cut hand. We don’t know if it will need stitches or not. You would be a big help if you would clean up this mess,” Jed suggested.

  The adults left the room before she had a chance to respond.

  Poor kid, all dressed up and no one noticed, Susan thought, sitting on the couch in the living room and watching Dan Hallard’s face for any sign of a decision. She really didn’t want to spend the morning getting stitches.

  “It’s messy, but not deep. I think we can put some butterfly bandages across the cut and it will hold all right. I have some at my house. I’ll just run home and gel them.”

  “Dan, you really don’t have to do all that. I can go over there,” Susan protested.

  “Martha’s still asleep. I’ll be right back,” he insisted and left the room.

  “Martha’s his wife?” Brett asked.

  “Yes; they live next door,” Jed answered for his wife. “I’m going to drag your son from the TV set and take the kids to the swim meet,” he said to Susan. “That is, if you don’t need me here, Brett.”

  “No. I just need your wife for about an hour or so, but I’ll see that this hand is taken care of first.”

  “Then I’ll be off. I assume I should stay for the meet?” he checked with his wife.

  “Yes. Be sure all the kids have their beach towels and—”

  “I can manage, Sue. Chad, let’s go!” he called out, as he reached over to kiss his wife. “Take care of that hand, okay?”

  Dan Hallard had come and bandaged her hand and was gone; Chrissy had informed them—from the hall—that the kitchen was cleaned up and she was going over to Janie’s house; and Susan had once again asked Brett if he was hungry and he had again refused before they finally got around to what he’d come for.

  “I told you yesterday, I’d like to know more about the PTA. Can you give me some sort of rundown of the whole organization and the main people who are involved in it?”

  Susan sat back and thought for a minute, then got up and went to her desk. “I have the information sheet we put out in the fall. It gives all the officers, their names, and also all the committees and their chairmen and co-chairmen. It’s in here somewhere. There. I knew I could find it.” She handed it to him and sat back while he looked it over.

  “The PTA list is on the first page. The rest is about the faculty and the calendar of the PTA-sponsored events.” She watched him thumb through the pages. Just how old was he? Certainly younger than she, but maybe not by that mu—

  “You know all these people?” She nodded. He handed the list back to her. “Can you mark off the people who were at the luncheon where Mrs. Ick was killed?”

  She spent a few minutes doing just that and then returned the paper to him.

  “Fantastic. Now can we go through the list? Can you tell me about these people that you’ve checked off? Let’s see, there are eleven of them. I think … let me recount … yes, eleven.

  “Let’s start with Julia Ames and Charline Voos. The co-presidents this year.”

  Oh, great. Begin with something easy, she thought, but she kept it to herself and smiled when she answered. “They were co-presidents last year, like you said, and they’re going to be in the same positions this coming year too. They’ve been involved in the PTA for fewer years than I have. They’ve always worked together on whatever they’ve done: fund-raising for a few years, and they were co-vice-presidents for two years …” She faded off, not sure what he was looking for.

  “They’re very much alike then?” he prodded.

  “Not at all. Well, a little,” she contradicted herself. “They’re both very good-looking, very New York City—as opposed to the pink-and-green preppie style that you see a lot of around here. Julia designs a lot of her own clothes. I think she may have designed professionally before she got married. Her husband is involved in some sort of exotic import/export business. He travels all over the world and she goes with him a fair amount. Their kids stay home with the housekeeper. They have two of them. Kids, not housekeepers.

  “Charline is also chic. She really could be a model,” she added, knowing that he would think that for himself when he met her. “She’s also the perfect corporate wife. She’s taken all the cooking courses, all the art classes. She also does volunteer work for the Metropolitan Museum in the City on weekends. She’s working her way up the board of the New York City Ballet, I hear …” She stopped. Did she sound bitchy?

  “Someone always has to run things,” he offered.

  “Yes, I guess so.”

  “You’re vice-president?”

  “Yes. And I run the library, too. So the next on the list is Patsy Webber. She’s secretary—”

  “But she wasn’t at the luncheon. At least you haven’t checked her.”

  “That’s right. I’m sorry. Her father was having bypass surgery that week, I think. The only other officer there was Fanny Berman.”

  “Treasurer.”

  “That’s right. She’s great friends with Charline. She’s pretty new to the PTA. Her oldest child is Chad’s age and going into second grade. And she’s an accountant. Our books have never looked so good. She’s also a great cook. She teaches down at the gourmet shop in town. I understand that she’s working on a book of recipes. I was talking to her at the pool when Paula died. That is, when we heard the scream and went out and found that she had died. But I don’t really know Fanny very well.”

  “Just keep going. I don’t expect you to be the final authority on everyone here.”

  “Well, the committees are in alphabetical order. The first is class mothers; the chairman is Nancy Dobbs. She’s been running the class mothers for years now. Found her niche, I guess, and wants to stick to it. She also can do a lot of the work from her home. Mostly the committee is organizing all the class mothers and calling them up when they have to call their classes. Does that make any sense?” she asked, thinking that it didn’t.

  “I understand. She gets information and then disperses it to the mothers assigned to each class, and they, in turn, call the other mothers in the class.”

  “Yes. You explained that well.” And how did he know about this? He must be married, even though he wasn’t wearing a ring. “Anyway, she likes to be involved, but she’s Catholic and—well—she has a lot of kids. Five of her own and three more that are her husband’s from his first marriage. His first wife died. Leukemia, I think. Anyway, with this committee she can take care of her preschoolers and still be involved.”

  “Her husband?”

  “He’s a doctor. An eye surgeon, I believe. He’s much older than she is and very conservative. They live in a huge home on the best street in town, but his kids always have jobs. Paper routes and traditional things like that. It must work. They’re all great kids. His oldest daughter, Cindy, has been our baby-sitter for years.

  “Next thing.” She looked at the list. “Oh, fund-raising, that’s …” She stopped and looked up at him. “You know, I never realized it.”

  “What?”

  “Paula Porter and Jan Ick.”

  “The woman who died at the pool yesterday and the one who died at the teacher’s lunch … yes?”

  “They were co-chairmen of the fund-raising committee last year. It’s probably just coincidence …” She looked at him for confirmation, but was disappointed. He had no particular expression on his face.

  “Why don’t you wait and we’ll go back to them later. What’s next?”

  “Hospitality. That’s one of my specialties. I did that for years. Now Martha Hallard is running it.”

  “That’s the doctor�
�s wife asleep next door?”

  “That’s right. Although I can’t imagine that she’s still asleep. Martha’s a mover and a shaker. She runs her own real estate agency, is very active in her church, has unlimited energy. She’s usually up and out of the house jogging when my alarm rings. Maybe she’s not feeling well.”

  “She was at the pool yesterday?” When she nodded yes, he offered an explanation. “These deaths may have shaken her up?”

  “Possibly. She and Paula were good friends. Maybe Dan gave her something to help her sleep.”

  “Probably. So she’s usually an energetic person?”

  “Very. She runs everything she’s in. She’ll be PTA president one of these years and she’ll juggle that along with everything else. I don’t know how she does it.”

  “But isn’t being so involved in the schools and her church group good for her business?”

  “Of course. We all go to Marty when we have to move or know of people looking for homes in the area. But that’s because she’s good at her job. Really it is.”

  “I’m not arguing with you. I was just suggesting that one part of her life enhances the other. How long has she lived next door to you?”

  “We moved here after she did. About seven years ago. We left the city when Chrissy was ready for her last year of kindergarten. We bought this house from Martha when she was with another agency.”

  “You knew her before you came up here?”

  “No. We had been looking all over Connecticut in towns with good school systems and we walked into a realtor’s office here one Sunday late in the evening. We had just finished viewing everything we could afford in Darien—which wasn’t much in those days—and Marty was manning the office. Anyway, she worked with us for a few months and, in fact, found this house for us. I remember Jed used to say that the house must be good since the agent who sold it to us was living right next door. It was his idea of as good a guarantee as we were likely to get.

  “Anyway, Marty’s been moving up ever since then. She started her own agency about four years ago. She’s also our PTA representative on the Hancock Town Council. Keeps each group informed about the activities of the other. Actually, come to think of it, she may not want to be PTA president. She might be happier running for a position on the Town Council.”

  “She would win?”

  “Probably. She’s very well known in town. And she’s in with the establishment here. She’s probably going to run the two-hundred fiftieth town birthday party. At least that’s what I heard recently. It’s a very big deal in a place like this.”

  “It’s soon?”

  “No. In two years. But the planning will have to start soon. I guess the mayor will announce a committee or something. I really don’t know very much about town politics, to be honest. You should talk to someone else, if you’re interested.”

  “Like Mrs. Hallard?”

  “Like Mrs. Hallard. Next on the list is library committee. That’s me.” She was embarrassed.

  “I think we can skip to the school-store committee.”

  “That’s run by Carol Mann. She’s a good friend. She has kids in both Chad’s and Chrissy’s classes. And they’ve always been friends with each other. In fact, Chrissy said she was going to the Manns’ this morning. Their daughter is the Janie that she mentioned on her way out. Carol was my first friend in town. I met her in a play group for kids Chrissy’s age. And we went through our second pregnancies together.” She stopped, wondering if a man could have any understanding of what a bond that could bring. “She works in a children’s clothing shop downtown. It’s owned by another friend. Anyway, even though she likes to be involved in the PTA, she needs something less time-consuming. The school store is only open four times a year. It carries school supplies, T-shirts and sweatshirts, and small items that the kids can buy with their allowances. It doesn’t take a whole lot of work to run and so it’s perfect for Carol.”

  “Is she the only one of the women who works like that? I mean, besides Mrs. Hallard and her agency?”

  “Well.” She paused and thought (how could she say this without sounding crass?). “She is the only woman in our group who has to work. Because her family needs the money, I mean. I told you about Fanny Berman and her cookbook. A lot of women have done things like that—in fact, quite a few do some sort of free-lance writing. Magazines and the local paper and stuff. And Paula Porter used to work in her own husband’s office—he’s a pediatrician.”

  “The difference is that the Mann family needs the money, I gather?”

  “Well, yes.” There was only one way to say it. “Her husband is a police sergeant in town and this is a very expensive place to live and, well …”

  “Believe me, I understand.” He chuckled at her hesitation. “I do understand,” he repeated. “So what about the rest of this list?”

  “The three representatives to outside organizations. That is, two of them are. There’s the Town Council representative. That’s Martha Hallard and we’ve already talked about that.”

  “And the two others?”

  “Board of Education and legislative.” She took the latter first. “Angie Leachman is our legislative representative. She keeps track of any state or federal legislation that might make a difference to the schools or our kids and then she reports on them to the PTA. A lot of her information comes from the national PTA offices. They have quite a lobbying group, you know. Or you may not know. But we do try to add to the effort locally when necessary. Angie is very good at her job. Very thorough and concerned. She’s a member of the League of Women Voters as well. She has one child in the school. In fact, she only has one child, and he is in the fifth grade. We’re going to miss her next year. I don’t know who is going to take her place. It’s an important position, but not really appreciated. We all know we should be more involved in government, but I think it’s one of those things that just doesn’t get done in the process of day-to-day living. I know Angie sometimes feels like she’s hitting her head on a stone wall. For instance, she tried to get members out to a march for some bill or other in Hartford and she and her husband were the only residents of Hancock who showed up. It was Labor Day weekend and there were parties, and people closing up their summer homes, and things like that. We were busy ourselves that weekend …”

  “Everyone has things to do. We can’t all do everything,” he soothed, but she still felt a pinch of guilt.

  “The last position is Board of Education representative. That’s Ellen Cooper.” She stopped, not knowing what to say. Well, onward. “Ellen’s a good friend too and she does lots of work for the PTA. She’s a very dedicated volunteer. The Board of Education representative goes to all the Board of Ed meetings—and there are a lot of them—and then she reports back to the group. We’re a wealthy town and we have a good-sized school budget, but there still is only so much to go around to all the schools. The Junior and Senior High are always looking out for their share. And things aren’t what they used to be. Elementary schools are closing all around us. The baby boom is over and town populations are getting older and there’s always a push for funds. Ellen works very hard.” She didn’t know what else to say.

  “Would you say that her position isn’t appreciated? Like the library representative or the legislative representative?”

  He really was a good listener! “Not really. I thought everyone appreciated the work Ellen was doing, but recently …” She paused. “I don’t know. Maybe others don’t see her the way I do.”

  To her surprise, he was willing to leave it at that.

  “Could we go back to the two women who were killed now?” His voice was gentle.

  FIVE

  “Paula and Jan. I don’t know where to start.”

  “Why don’t you begin by telling me about the fund-raising committee? It’s an important one, I gather. How much money is raised by the PTA each year?”

  “Usually about six thousand dollars, I believe. But there are years when we earn a lot more than t
hat. We sometimes have extra fund drives for special projects. Like when we bought twenty computers for the school, for example.”

  “But usually?”

  “Usually, we have two big fund-raisers each year. And they’re events rather than raffles or selling something door-to-door like some organizations do. We have a big fall book sale. The books come from a great children’s bookstore in Darien and we get thirty percent of the profits. It’s not too much work. The store does the inventory and we provide the space, a theme, publicity, and volunteers to lay out the books, help the kids, and collect money. Usually the profits from that go straight to the school library and not into the general fund, so I suppose it’s not included in the PTA budget for the year.

  “Anyway, our big event is in the spring. And that varies. We’ve had dinners, art fairs, science fairs, fashion shows, whatever the person running it dreams up—with the school principal’s permission, of course. That event has been known to raise between four and five thousand dollars on its own.”

  “And this year? The year that Mrs. Ick and Mrs. Porter were doing the work?”

  “It was great. It really was,” she enthused. “The best since I’ve been involved in the PTA. Its theme was ‘Bubble Magic and Other Flying Things.’ It was part art, part games, and part science. The kids and the parents loved it.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “Well, it was held on a Saturday in the middle of May. The sixteenth, if I remember correctly. A man from San Francisco was the feature. He’s a bubble artist and he gave three shows that day: one at ten when the fair opened, one at noon, and one at two in the afternoon. The fair ended at three. He did fabulous things. Made bubbles inside bubbles, blew gigantic bubbles—almost as big as a room—and when they floated into the sky it was amazing …”

  “And the kids?”

  “They made paper airplanes and cardboard Frisbees. They created animals out of balloons, they had relay races where they sat on balloons. They tried—each grade competing against the other—to see who could make a rocket that would fly the farthest without using any sort of flammable fuel. And there was lots of food, donated by the parents and then sold to the people who came. It was very, very successful. I don’t remember how much money was made, but I know it was more than usual.”